Wrap your head with this material...

Ways to announce you're pregnant: "I'll totally punch you and steal your lunch.  What?  I'm pregnant." "I have to watch Grey's Anatomy now.  I'm hormonally predisposed due to pregnancy."  "Shit happens when you party naked.  Like pregnancy.  Get it?  I partied naked and now there's going to be lots of baby shit." "Wanna see how much yoga pants can stretch?  Watch me for the six next months.  Due Jan 2013." "Seriously, hand your lunch over.  I'm pregnant and hungry.  I'm not fuckin around." "You've got to be kidding me!  Lunchmeat?  All that bullying and I can't even eat this!" Looking forward to the current household indigents getting a new resident on or abouts January 3, 2013, you know, minus the giving birth part.  That part's fucking horrifying.

Sometimes I feel awkward.  Like, middle school awkward.  The kind where you just know people can see it.  You bought the slightly off version of what's cool and your underwear's sticking out, or you stared too long until it became weird, or said something that made the world come to a screeching halt and now the whole world knows how odd you are.  How ill-suited for normal company. It doesn't happen a lot anymore.  I live in a place that I'm perfectly suited for and that's partly why.  I'm also good-looking and a lot of leeway comes with looks and age.  But when my friends from home hang out, the middle schooler peaks out of me.  Facebook is the worst for this.  I should really abstain more.  When I lived in St. Louis, I was never part of any group.  I had friends who were drug dealers, and friends from the honor's society.  I had friends who were in college, and friends who were in drama at my school.  I sprawled and ...

I've technically only been unemployed for two days so far. I've been a busy girl. And eating really good breakfasts. Mmm. I love breakfast! If you put a bunch of pots in the fire at the same time, then something's bound to be edible come dinnertime, right? See also, starting my own diapering service. See also, that damn book I wrote that I did nothing with and might maybe sorta try to get published. See also, 2-3 jobs I'm applying for. Sure I might burn some stuff, but I just can't handle the idea of putting all my eggs in one basket either. Speaking of eggs, I went out for cocktails with a few close friends after my last day of work and ended up back at my house eating eggs and drinking wine. (Which was a little sad b/c I just worked too many hours and too hard and didn't have any down time so ended up in that weird place with a few drinks where I started to let down and thought I might cry. No one wants to hang out with a crying drunk girl. There aren...

I knew a couple in high school who claimed to still be virgins because they were only having anal sex. Every time I see a picture of her posted on FB, that's what I think of. I think my child is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I stare and stare at him and I could kiss my own lips right off on that forehead of his. I also think he looks just like me. BUT, I do not look at myself in a mirror with an achy lovey heart and think how beautiful I am. My neighbors shoveled a line in the snow dividing our two lawns yesterday. They're so fucking bizarre. I quit my job. I'm getting my house in order. Literally and figuratively. And I even use literally correct in sentences. It should result in more writing. And skiing. And feeling more like myself again. Which is good because I kind of lost me in a deep pit of self-doubt. I'm climbing out now though. Which involves being very poor, and hopefully, very happy.

I still can't decide if I should write about this, what I should write about this, how I feel about this, how I should feel about this. But here it is. Magnus was a twin. Was. big WAS. Not for long. Maybe 5weeks. But still. Because I'd had the miscarriage, I called and made an appointment right away when I found out I was pregnant. They saw me at 5 weeks. Did and ultrasound and saw two little blobbies. I asked if it could be twins and they said yes. Could be. But not necessarily. So I came back at 7 weeks. Because they were hoping to see a heartbeat then. They did. It was Magnus's. By then there were dark spots on my ultrasound too though. They didn't like that. Doctors weren't sure what it meant. Could be another miscarriage in waiting. Could've been lots of things. So I waited another 2 weeks to go in for another ultrasound. At 9 weeks they were hoping they'd be able to tell but said it was possible they wouldn't. I counted daysho...

Destructive thoughts. Everyone has them. Or, at least, I choose to believe everyone has them. Who hasn't thought about driving their car into the concrete wall? Its not suicidal either. Its instinctual and destructive. Thinking about smashing computers into tiny bits. Or whatever your pleasure. Or anger. Or whatever. For me its not even an emotional thing. It seems to just exist. Like, mentally, I'm running through the grocery list, the to-do list, processing my day at work, and oh by the way I'm thinking of driving over the dam and what noise my car would make as it splashed into the lake. Now I've added horrible thoughts of things happening to my child to that same destructive list. As in, I no longer think of driving into or over things, but what would happen if we took Magnus on a boat and he somehow fell overboard. Like, if picturing myself diving into the cold water and how fast I could swim to catch him would protect him in some way, I would be prepar...

You expect your life to go on. To change. To age in some capacity. You know, like the things they ask you to come up with your senior year of high school that you'll be doing in 10 years. So you have a concept of yourself and future times. But you don't necessarily accept that is what will happen to those around you. We all hear ourselves as the narrators of our own stories, and in our story don't we all expect to be the exception to the rules? We face our mortality, but don't we really just expect to make it through some loophole at the end? There's a part of me that expects that and more. That my husband will fit through the same loop hole and so will my parents and my children. That we'll all escape the inevitable death at the end of the story. I wonder if when you get to a certain age if you start to see the loop get smaller and smaller and suddenly disappear. If that is when you face and accept your mortality. I wonder this because in conversation w...

Ever make soup and then get a cold and think, "dang, what a good thing I made soup!" That happened to me this week. Did you know hemorrhoids are actual vericose veins in your ass? That's your gross and generally unimportant information for the day. Thank you pregnancy websites for teaching me all I simply must know to have a baby. Ever poop green? Of course you do. I always want to tell someone when it happens. Why is that? I never do though. Which is weird because I tend to say everything I think. Or as it turns out, almost everything. I don't want to talk about the baby thing lately. Someone very close to me had a miscarriage. Almost exact same story as mine. Same no symptoms/concerns. Almost the same date. 12 weeks instead of 11. I can't stop thinking about her. I'm terrified for her to go through everything I did. I hate thinking that she might be sobbing uncontrollably and unexpectedly at a time when she should get to be happy. I hate thinking how I spe...

Last year for Mother's Day we went out to breakfast and had a great time. A couple of days later is when I found out the baby was dead. I have really mixed emotions about being wished a Happy Mother's Day this year. The baby moves every day and Rob even felt it for the first time on Friday night. I'm happy about it and not all that worried. But still, it makes me kind of want my mommie.

I had my first seizure when I was 21. I didn't know it was a seizure at the time. It just seemed all foggy and confusing and then I could hardly move. For hours. I went to the ER hours later because of how I could hardly move. I couldn't walk on my own, really. I was too weak. We waited in the ER for a long time when I unexpectedly felt fine. We went home. Over the next several months I went through MRIs, EEGs, EKGs, glucose tolerance testing and much more. I was diagnosed with epilepsy and put on meds. I lost 1/3 of my hair. I had seizures 3 and 4 times a day. Even on meds. Which made me feel drunk and on an emotional rollercoaster. Oh, and did I mention I was 21 and losing my hair? Cuz being a bald woman is something that is bigger and scarier than it sounds. Is it as bad as being quadrapeligic? Of course not. But its no small thing. I tried different meds. My hair stopped falling out. But I was still an emotional mess and I still had seizures. After months ...

Here's some advice I plan to follow with regard to giving my children things to drink. Give water. Nurse. Feed fruit. Rinse. Repeat. No juice. Never. I mean it. Not until the kid's old enough to decide to spend pocket change on a chocolate bar vs. soda vs. juice vs. all the other things they shouldn't be having but we all do. Meaning, when my child is old enough to have pocket change. To go to the store and spend it and make change and make bad decisions they have to begin living with all on their own. In other news, I felt the parasite move. MOVE! It was the most excitingest thing ever. Seriously, I couldn't focus on a thing afterwards and just kept coming up to Rob (who was trying to play his banjo) and saying "The baby moved, Rob. It MOVED!" Wander the house, attempt to read, rinse, repeat "The baby moved, Rob. It MOVED!" It was so awesome. Little thumps, not rhythmic and I don't know where they come up with flutters, thumps. ...

I'm reading all these books on pregnancy and babies and I have to say the writing is just awful. Half of them spend so much time telling you what they're going to tell you and why they're going to tell you that I'm ready to shake them by the throat and say "Spit that shit out, already!!!" So my skimming skills are in use to say the least. This morning I read a couple hundred pages (see skimming) of a book on the Bradley method, a natural childbirth method. I might add, that I have not found the Bradley method yet. So far its just info on getting pregnant and the structure of the body. Which is where I get into the terms they use. They call it the "vaginal barrel." They have a diagram of 2 different "vaginal barrels." One is engorged (excited about welcoming a certain type of guest.) The other is regular styles. I think the engorged one should be referred to as a "vaginal barrel of monkeys." It also mentions that if there...

My mom got in a motorcycle accident. She was driving. Taking lessons. My mom married this really awesome man. She talked him into doing all kinds of things for himself that he never would have before knowing her. When they met, for example, he drove an old sedan and started it with a wrench and because he's that mechanical type, he could've kept it running forever. And he would have. Even if he had the money. I'm not sure he believed he deserved nice things. But she talked him into buying himself a really nice truck. She also talked him into buying himself a really nice Harley. He'd always wanted one. And they went for rides quite a bit. They loved it. But then this awesome man died. And every time my mom thought about selling the Harley, she cried. Finally she sold the truck instead. And with the money, she bought a sidecar for the Harley in order to be able to drive it herself. So she was taking lessons. But she's over 60. Learning the balance, and ha...

I'm mildly freaking out. I'm not really the call-the-police-on-people type. But my neighbors just keep having these awful fights. I hear them yelling, well mostly her yelling. Then there are these awful banging noises. And I don't know if they're throwing shit against the walls or each other around or what. I just get so anxious every time they do it. My hear trate skyrockets every time. It makes me shake a little. I can't sleep for worrying. The last time was very early in the morning. Maybe around 5 am. From my bedroom (which shares no walls with their home, I might add,) I heard what I would swear was a person falling down a flight of stairs. I went next door and knocked on their door. No answer. But I could hear voices. So I left. They were clearly both ok. The problem is I work for social services. And exposure to DV is child abuse in this state. And they have 2 little kids. And I just think, if I'm shaking because you're banging somet...

confeshun: I can't talk about the most emotionally meaningful things in my life because i feel like it cheapens them and makes them trite things that fit into words and sentences and phrases with pesky punctuation when feelings are ethereal beings that seem to wrap themselves around certain organs and regions of my tongue or ribs or uterus sometimes they itch and burn and squeeze and if I wrap my arms around Rob and bury my head in his shoulder and kiss his cheeks I just know its all ok that's with the good things The bad things I can write about. They're good to put into the shapes of things we know and hate in order to chew them up and let saliva and stomach acid take them apart and make them useful to something. I'm supposed to be 8 months pregnant . Instead, I started my period again. I was so sure I might be pregnant again. I even allowed myself to be happy about it. I felt like I'd be able to be patient this time, wait and see. You know, a calm happy. A...

Yesterday in the parking lot of the grocery store I closed my door at the exact same time as another car. Do you think that's fate? Or maybe a sign? Maybe the universe is trying to tell me that I'm just a piece of tickertape, part of the machine. And I can try and break out. I can die my hair pink or cuss up a storm. I can live on a platform at the top of a redwood tree, or camp out in an old mining shack. And if I could break out of the mold, the system, then I would just need to be strong in my broken places. Then, would things be right? There are so many places where there just isn't sense. A senator that doesn't get reelected because he's labelled unpatriotic. Did I mention he was in Vietnam and lost 3 of 4 limbs to a granade? And the guy he lost to? He avoided the draft. It was all very proper, deferrments and a trick knee. What is going on that this is what happens because of spin and media and pictures and sounds? But maybe its a lesson. Ther...

So I mentioned in this post that we got a dog. So I figure now I'll update you on his life. Cuz I'm sure you have nothing better to do that read about my dog. Firstly, he's named after Noam Chomsky but with a more dog-appropriate spelling. I talked Rob into getting a dog the same way I talked him into getting a cat: I cried and told him he could name it. Actually, this time I went one step further and agreed to buy a house to put it in. That's him. Wouldn't you cry too? Check him out here: He looks so astute, doesn't he? Well, don't be deceived. Wait till you hear this. This weekend I was in the backyard painting boards for shelving in the living room. Exciting, I know. I let ChompSki hang out in the back yard with me. Our yard is not fenced. We'd like to fence it, but we're sorta out of money from buying the damned house in the first place. So far, it hasn't mattered. So far, the dog (who spent the last who-knows-how-long living in...

The morning of the D&C I was awoken several times by the phone ringing. So I gave up and got up. I putzed around on the internet for a few and then decided to go for a run. I figured I wouldn’t feel up to it again for a while. Plus I had some extra energy. As they wheeled me in, I determined to focus on beautiful things. I pictured the sun glinting off the water in the creek, listened to it rush, felt the warm sun on my arms, and Rob’s hand in mine as I drifted off. I had beautiful dreams. My eyes fluttered open to the stark whites of the hospital and I felt socked in the stomach. I cried and cried. “I had a miscarriage. I forgot. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” I searched for Rob’s hand and cried. When the shock wore off, though, I felt surprisingly fine. Like the whole thing had been some medical problem I’d had taken care of. The shame and humiliation I felt at having told so many people of my pregnancy felt far away and the pain of the procedure was practically ...

I still wanted to think there was just something tricky but everything could still be fine. I teared up as we were leaving and Rob offered to just hang out with me until the next appointment. I declined and went to meet with a client instead. I dropped my client off for a home visit with his mother, telling him I’d be back to pick him up in a couple of hours. Then I went back to the doctor’s office to have the ultrasound. Stonefaced, I approached the window and handed my script to the 7 month pregnant woman at the desk. I held back, stiff, no tears. Rob and I were led back into the ultrasound room where I disrobed and I prepared myself for the discomfort of an internal ultrasound. The doctor waved the ultrasound wand around for a few moments. She looked at my uterus and ovaries and said my ovaries looked good. Nothing about my uterus. “Am I still pregnant” I asked beginning to sob. “Yes.” She said carefully. “Give me just a minute and we’ll talk about it and I show you wh...

I've decided to post on my experience since writing about it is helpful. I will continue to post my regular postings in between though, which may make for a weird rhythm in my writing. If you don't like it, you know how to scroll. Rob and I waited excitedly at the doctor’s office, holding hands, anxious to hear our baby’s heartbeat. I could see his excitement in the way his legs wiggled ever so slightly. The nurse called my name and we headed back. Everyone whispered almost seeming confused about why I was there. Nervously she said, “You’re here for…?” “I’m pregnant.” I said with eyebrows raised. Why would they be so quiet about this when if you show up with a bladder infection or the runs, they’re like, “SO YOU”RE HERE BECAUSE YOU HAVE CROTCH ROT RIGHT?” or "SO WHERE IS THIS BOIL WE'RE LANCING TODAY?" Weird. She led us to a room, I smiled, Rob and I held hands, and waited for the doctor. She came in and smiled back, congratulating us. We chatted about...