The Loss of Nameless Things

(Note: I borrowed this title from the 2004 bio-documentary film by Bill Rose)

In the last two weeks, several people in my life have been pulled to the brink.  Some have lost parents unexpectedly, others have lost a child, a sibling, a grandparent.  With every new conversation came the news that someone else I knew was suffering.  And my heart ached for them.  Loss is so hard.

And then, in the course of this same period, I found out I was pregnant, and my heart was full.  Then, just a week later, in a matter of minutes, I wasn't pregnant anymore.  And my heart ached...for me..  Loss is so hard.

I didn't expect that I would grieve very much if I had a miscarriage.  I had separated my feelings out of the equation, realizing that the loss of the pregnancy was a very real and possible situation.  Just like four years ago, when I was pregnant with B, I didn't allow myself to get too attached to this pregnancy, speaking about it as an abstract thing, just in case it didn't work out.  I chose to tell many close friends and family, figuring that if I lost the pregnancy, it wouldn't hurt too much to have to tell people that, too...since I wasn't that attached to the pregnancy to begin with.

And then, just eleven days after discovering the pregnancy, it was gone.  Pangs that didn't feel quite right had started to pull in my groin and lower abdomen the night before, and by morning, I was bleeding.  Not spotting, but full-fledged, can't-deny-this-is-a-miscarriage bleeding.  I remember hoarsely calling out, "Oh nooooo...." while Bryony played next to me.  Trying to stay calm for her sake, as well as a reminder that I wasn't emotionally invested in the pregnancy yet, I patted her head and made a makeshift maxipad out of toilet paper.  At some point later, I called Adam.  "Looks like the little sesame seed is gone," I told him, referring to an article he'd read earlier that the embryo was the size of a sesame seed at that stage of the pregnancy.  He didn't get it, so I had to (painfully) repeat myself.  Then he understood, and there was silence, and we were both sad. 

People don't talk about this, but miscarriages aren't just painful for the soul...they hurt like hell for your body, too.  The cramping, the pulling and stretching of muscles and ligaments, the waves of nausea, the bleeding, the passage of tissues and globs of other stuff that is unrecognizable.  No one talks about what to expect when you're not expecting a miscarriage.  The scientist in me caught some of the unrecognizable stuff in my hand and examined it, wondering what it functioned as when I was still pregnant, and whether the little sesame seed was buried in it somewhere.  The other part of me--the mother who wants to be a mother again--was just sad.  I was sad to lose the pregnancy I wasn't all that attached to yet.

I was lucky to have been visiting Michigan when this happened.  I was surrounded by my best girlfriends who took such good care of me...getting me out of the house so I didn't wallow, wrapping me in warm rice socks, propping me up on pillows, bringing me hot tea, not asking many questions but letting me talk when I wanted to...all while I was essentially bleeding the living daylights in my pants while sitting on their couches.  One friend laughed (nervously at first, then for real) when I told her it was like Slaughterhouse 5 whenever I went to the bathroom.

In the few days that have passed since I lost the pregnancy, I've been thinking about why I'm sad.  After all, there have been people in my life who've lost parents, children, siblings...all of whom had a real life and had made an impact on the world.  How could I mourn for the loss of a sesame seed no one had met yet?  Now, I'm realizing that I'm mourning the loss of a nameless thing...parenthood? sibling for B? complete family unit?  I'm sad for what that sesame seed would have become, and would have meant for our lives.  The loss is hard because after a year of trying, we thought we'd succeeded, and now we have to contemplate the long, frustrating process of waiting, waiting, waiting.  I'm no spring chicken.

I debated about whether to tell B what had happened.  We had decided against telling her about the pregnancy, "in case something happens."  Now that "something happened" I didn't know if I should just keep it all from her innocent mind.  She had seen me red-eyed and sniffling enough times to know that something was wrong...and I finally got to the realization that my 3-year old, in all her youthful bliss, was also hardy enough to know the truth.  So, without gore or details, I told her the truth:  there was a teeny, tiny baby in my belly, but it was sick and had to go away.  Like the trooper my gut told me she'd be, she wrapped her arms around me and consoled my spirit.  She patted my back and said, "It's okay, Mom.  I didn't want the baby to go away, either."  Then, she pulled back and fumbling, formed her little fingers into the hand sign for "I love you."  It was amazing and timely and exactly what I needed in that moment.  Incredulous, I asked her where she learned to do that, and she said one of my girlfriends had taught her; I was so grateful.

And, in the end, that is what stays with me...gratitude.  Gratitude for the family I have, gratitude for the friends who love me and took care of me at one of my lowest times, gratitude for the ability to create a sesame seed even if it wasn't meant to stay with me.  Gratitude for my life.  My life is good.  It is full of wondrous and awesome people, and amazing experiences, and tremendous opportunities.  It is full...of nameless things.

Smart & Mobile

This is my first post written completely on a mobile device (in this case, Adam's smart phone). It's proving to be more painful than exciting, unfortunately. However, seeing as how I am in a very warm, very germy hotel room with a sick husband and cranky-but-now-thankfully-napping 3-year old, I'll take what I can get.    Wow, this thing wont even let me start a new paragraph...novelty has definitely worn off. I've spent the better part of this afternoon reading obituaries (does this girl know how to ride out a weekend or what?!). I've been catching up on all the newspapers and magazines I haven't found time to read in the last couple weeks, so now I'm tackling the 'end of 2012' stuff. The Washington Post magazine devoted its entire copy to notable DC Metro residents who died last year. none of them were famous, but they certainly had lives well-lived. It'a gotten me to thinking...maybe I'm going about things all wrong. Instead of waiting for a job to come my way (because it feels like I'm going to be waiting a long time), maybe it's time I create my own destiny. I don't know what that means yet(or,for that matter,how to do it), but I'm getting tired and frustrated by rhe lack of opportukity rifht now. I think I need to make my own. I guess I dont want my obit to read 'She hoped really hard but never fulfilled her dreams or potential.' How sad. I also hope they don't use a bad picture of me. That's almost sadder.  It's like, do a girl a solid at the very end, and at least make me look good, ok? It's not everyday a gal gets into the newspaper. So...to be continued..perhaps I might just shock the pants off us all and do something great..

Hail and Farewell

It is customary in the military to have a "hail and farewell" event to welcome in new members to the unit, and to bid adieu to those who are leaving.  The military is all about its customs, at which I usually inwardly smirk.  But sometimes customs and tradition aren't so bad, I suppose.

So, I welcome 2013 with open arms, a sense of purpose and determination, and with preliminary thanks for the learning experiences that are sure to come.  My previous self would have said, "Bring it!" with an eye for daring, danger and thrills that might be lurking in the future months.  My current motherly self, instead, flinches unconsciously as I contemplate all the many bad things that this new year could bring to our family.  I try hard to focus on the positives, but the reality of the world can be so negative that it's hard not to live with some fear from time to time.

And...Farewell, my friend Ruth.  I learned yesterday that a dear friend, Ruth Affleck, died after a long and difficult battle with pancreatic cancer.  She was a beautiful woman, a real lady's lady, with long, thick white hair that she always had done up in barrettes.  She owned an alpaca farm and spun the wool into yarn.  She was an amazing knitter and had such a great accent, being that she was from New Zealand and Australia...yup, a little bit of both.  Ruth had returned to school at a later age and received her degree in bookkeeping, and had decided to plug on for another degree right before being diagnosed with cancer.  She was not just the average "special person" people talk about when someone has died.  Ruth was rugged, soft, funny, serious, talented and average.  She was exactly the friend you'd want to have in the room during a winter's night spent knitting over tea.  And she loved her cats.  That was her, too.  I see and hear her so vividly in my mind right now; that gives me comfort that she'll never be far from memory.  We'll miss you, Ruth. 

Time to start up with my winter knitting again.  Sometimes customs aren't so bad, I suppose.

Left Meets Right

I'm facing a political struggle.  I'm fairly vocal about my political beliefs and don't have a whole lot of issue arguing with others who are vocal about their own (different) political opinions.  In fact, I think it's good fun.

....however...

Now we've moved to the political hotspot of our nation, and while Virginia turned blue during the election (thank goodness), most of my old friends and a few family members are quite conservative.  To a fault.  If I'm diving into the Pacific, they are backstroking in the Atlantic.  Back in Michigan, I had little problem sparring with various friends who had differing political beliefs (although there were only a few, as most folks I knew there were quite liberal). 

But being here is different.  And this political climate is different.  Conservatives, Republicans, Tea Party-ers...they actually seem to HATE our President rather than just disagree with him.  There is an animosity, a vitriole that I never saw exhibited toward Clinton.  And it gets my hackles up.  So I get fired up and want to debate.  Especially when I see really poorly-thought-out, misleading and misinformed posts by people on Facebook.  Normally I engage, but these days I've been holding back.  As Adam has put it, "You live here now.  You have to find a way to get along with everyone, which probably means putting your political dialogue by the wayside." That's not exactly normal for me--keeping my thoughts to myself (hahaha)--but I suspect he might be right.

So, for now, I'm keeping mum, keeping calm.  But this leftie is still steaming inside.

It's Been So Long I Almost Forgot My Password

Not really, but I was nervous for a minute there.

Not that I expect that anyone really reads this blog, but my humble apologies for keeping my non-existent audience waiting for the past month and change.   We packed up our Michigan selves and made the twelve-plus hour trip to parts southeast-ward, finally settling in our new abode in Virginia, my old stomping ground from 15+ years ago.  As Adam has finally gotten me to admit, I have mixed feelings about this move...happiness to have our family back together under one, permanent roof; and to be close to both sets of relatives; and to have moved somewhere thriving with possibilities for all of us...sadness to be away from friends, community and employment I had in Michigan.

You give, you take.

But things are good here for the most part.  We have great wildlife in our backyard--a red fox, an amazing songbird community, a Northern Harrier, and (supposedly, though we haven't seen them yet) eagles and deer. Great viewing for this unemployed wildlife biologist!

B is overjoyed to have her dad back in her life on a daily basis, and the feeling is mutual.  Now she's gotten so used to him being around (and being a short walk from his office) that she gets annoyed when he doesn't come home for lunch.  I'm grateful life has suddenly gotten so easy for her, considering how much she's dealt with the last few years.

I'm typing now while Ads is trying to sleep, so I'll sign off for now and write more tomorrow.  Tomorrow we get our Christmas tree so perhaps I'll have some pix to post.

Back before another month passes by...

Movin' On East

Our Move, by the numbers:

6 more days of work left

5 different good-bye lunches and 1 farewell party

12 more days here in the place that has been our home for the last 10 years

Countless friends and memories to carry in my heart

Zero tears shed as we say good-bye

One big fat lie (see above)

In Sickness and In Health

Two weeks ago, I did the unthinkable--I ate a cookie.

Such a simple and benign act turned into two weeks of gastrointestinal hell.  But, let me start from the beginning.

One Tuesday evening, after a filling dinner, I treated Bryony and myself to our sometimes-treat of two sandwich creme cookies.  My preference is for the Newman's Own brand, because their products are organic with easy-to-pronounce ingredients.  Newman's Own uses plain old sugar, rather than some kind of high-processed corn syrup that will one day result in my growing another leg.  But, I digress.  That night, I ate a peanut butter sandwich cookie, while Bryony stuck to her usual Oreo-style vanilla creme chocolate sandwich cookies.  It wasn't until she was in bed and I was working on the computer some three hours later that I started to feel uncomfortable.  At first, it was just gas, which I cast off as indigestion.  But, by the time I went to bed, I was in full-fledged abdominal pain, complete with cramping, bloating, gas, and chills.  I rocked in bed, moaning and groaning, for the better part of the night. 

By the time Wednesday morning arrived, my stomach felt mildly better, but I was extremely tired from lack of sleep, and dragged my way through the day.  Eventually my coworkers sent me home from work halfway through the day because they said I was starting to turn "green."  I came home and slept for several hours before I had to pick up Bryony from school.  I woke up from the nap feeling refreshed and much better.  I wrote off the stomach cramps as just a 24-hour bug, and proceeded to carry on with the evening.  At some point, I got a phone call from the local grocery store (they have an automated computer call you) informing me that the Newman's Own Peanut Butter sandwich cookies I'd purchased had been recalled due to the salmonella outbreak.  Ahhhh, I thought.  Now it all made sense.  But wasn't I so lucky to have  only suffered from the food poisoning for one day?  Then I ordered spicy tacos from the food truck at the Farmers Market.  Big mistake.  Big.  Huge. 

Wednesday night was (as my brother would say) the mad beast.  If I had thought Tuesday night was awful, Wednesday night put me on a whole different playing field.  I got zero sleep due to the almost unmanageable cramping, and I finally ended up behind the computer, postin gupdates about my condition to Facebook friends who happen to be up and looking at their newsreel at 6am.  Then I e-mailed my supervisor to tell her I would not be in that day.  I let Bryony sleep in, and after taking her to school, I came home and slept all day long, with NPR speaking soothingly to me as I napped.

And so it went.  Friday I woke up feeling somewhat better so I went to work for a half day, then went home to rest.  By Friday night I was a mess once more, and Saturday wasn't much better.  Sunday, however, found me feeling almost back to my normal self, which was encouraging for a number of reasons, the least of which was the absence of pain.  Since I'd been sick, I'd been unable to eat much beyond the BRAT (Bananas, rice, applesauce, toast) diet; in fact, I couldn't bear the smell of food, which meant that Bryony wasn't eating much beyond BRAT, either.  I felt so bad for her.  Even worse, however, was my general lack of energy and ability to truly be her mother.  I felt like I was basically a zombie for three straight days, letting her watch movies endlessly just so I could sleep uninterrupted on the couch.  Even she seemed to get cabin fever, and the dogs got so restless they ended up in two fights in one day.  It was a difficult weekend.

I went back to work on Monday, and life seemed normal again.  Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday...all good.  Then, I woke up on Saturday feeling...not...quite...right.  All I wanted to do was lie in my bed and send Bryony off to be parented by jolly elves, but alas, we had a pancake breakfast fundraiser to attend, so away we had to go.  I felt miserable at the restaurant, hungry for food, but nauseous at the smell.  Someone pushed coffee my way, which usually I would have chugged at 9:00am, but instead sat untouched that morning.  We went home afterward, and I became Zombie Mum once more, lying sick on the couch while Bryony was allowed to watch countless movies.  How could this have returned???  It felt unreal, and yet, there it was.  Sunday, I cancelled plans with a friend because I felt so ill, then ended up feeling better mid-day so I rescheduled our meetup.  I was sure I was on the mend, but by Sunday night I was sicker than I'd been throughout this entire ordeal--migraine so bad I couldn't open my eyes to look at my daughter, abdominal cramps, bloating, diarrhea, chills, fever.  I put Adam on the phone as I crawled into bed next to Bryony, and somewhere in the recesses of my pounding brain, I had the thought that this was how I was going to die.  The thought was heartbreaking because I couldn't bear the idea of Bryony waking up next to her dead mother in the morning.  Somewhere in the course of belaboring this, I fell asleep.

And then, just like that, it was over.  I went to the doctor because it seemed a good idea to get some tests run, just in case.  They all (blood and stool analysis) came back free and clear of any problems.  That was simultaneously relieving and frustrating.  Surely something was wrong with me...right?

And so now I'm on the other side of it all, back to the "health" part of the vow.  Adam's pretty darn lucky he wasn't around for the "in sickness" part this time.  He might not have wanted to wait around for the "health" part to show up.