Perspective

I'm not a hugger. I'm not touchy-feely. Physical contact takes work for me, it doesn't come naturally. I even feel like I have a limit to how much physical touch I can take.

Well, last night at dinner, Moose was making it his personal goal to see if he could help me reach that limit. He could not stop touching, hugging, kissing me. He would rub my arm, climb in my lap, put an arm on my shoulder, place his head on my lap, and hold my hand. I love that he is so affectionate. I wish I was that way, but last night for some reason, I was about at my limit. I wasn't mad or upset, but I was feeling a little stifled. We were laughing and making a joke about it and he thought it was hilarious.

Then today it hit me, I need to cherish those moments because I am blessed enough to have them.

I would have been due with baby #2 this month if I hadn't miscarried back in March. That's a baby that I'll never touch, hug or kiss. I will never be able to rub his or her arm, hold them on my lap or hold their little hand. I will never be able to "reach my limit" on physical touch with that baby. You don't comprehend how attached you can get to someone that you never met. It's the loss of what could have been.

It's hard to think about that but it hits me every now and then and realize how luck I am to have a happy, healthy, beautiful boy. Not everyone gets that opportunity. My heart breaks for friends of ours who haven't been able to have kids and who are struggling through the ridiculous Florida DCF trying to adpot.

I realize that even if we don't have another child (yes, we are going to try again, but it's ultimately up to God), we are beyond blessed with what we have. I will relish every squeeze, every eskimo kiss, every butterfly kiss, and every smack to my (in his words) "beautiful spankable bottom" (thank his dad for that).

October 15th is Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day. In October 1988, President Ronald Reagan Proclaimed October as National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. “When a child loses his parent, they are called an orphan. When a spouse loses her or his partner, they are called a widow or widower. When parents lose their child, there isn’t a word to describe them.”

Here are events to get involved with and here are ways to show your support.

Most Days I'm OK

Most days I am ok, lots of days I'm great, but some days my miscarriage still gets to me. I guess that's normal, it's only been a few months, but some people seem to move on so easily. Or at least on the surface they do, I guess I don't know their heart.

Anyway, some days it doesn't even cross my mind, and some days I think, I'd be almost 7 months now which means we would have definitely known what we were having. Some days, I wonder what it would be like.

Those days are fewer and farther between than the beginning, but on those days I beat myself up a little more. Was it the theraflu that I took when I was 4 weeks along because I felt like I was dying from the flu? Did I work out too much? Was I too unsure about it? Was it because I wasn't bonding with the baby or was I not bonding because God wouldn't let me?

I have gotten to where I really love babies, but on those few days, I don't want to talk about babies or baby things. I don't want to hear people complaining about their babies (even though on a normal day it's perfectly fine, moms need to vent).

I don't like having to answer the question "So, are you going to have any more?" by someone who doesn't know. I then feel some absurd need to explain to them how we had tried but I miscarried and now I need a little time. They don't need to know that and I'm sure it makes them feel bad.

Mostly, on those days, I feel bad for feeling bad. I get this little voice in the back of my head that says "Why are you even sad, there was no baby? No baby even developed." Now, I know that regardless of whether there was a baby or not, I was almost 10 weeks at the time and my body was pregnant, but on those days, Satan, gets a foothold and tries to pull me down.

I know that some of these thoughts are still hormonal changes, and to help with that I am doing some natural remedies (acupuncture and Chinese herbs) that I'll blog about later. I know that these are normal thoughts (or at least I think they are) and yet, that doesn't make me feel better at the time.

I'm feeling this way a little tonight, but it will pass. Like I have said before, this blog is more for my therapy, than it is for anything else.

Thanks for sticking around even when I'm gloomy! :)

to the moon and back,

Why do we do it?

Why do we do it?

Why do we try to have babies? There are so many risks, so much possible pain, so much possible devastation.

But we still try...

Some of us succeed on the first try (or with out even trying), others spend years and thousands of dollars trying, others never succeed and either choose to adopt or make peace with not having children.

But we still try...

We try even though it may end in miscarriage, we try even though it may end in still birth, we try even if it means that our child will need to be cared for by us forever, we try even if it may take our own lives.

But we still try...

We try even if the finances aren't right, we try even if the house isn't big enough, we try even if we don't have help from our families, we try even if it means losing friendships.

But we still try...

It can be sad, it can be scary, it can be uncomfortable, it can totally change our bodies (hair, skin, shape, etc), it can throw our hormones completely our of whack, it can make us sick for 9 months straight.

But we still try...

Why?

Because it's worth it.

It's worth it for a chance at holding a miracle. It's worth it for a chance at feeling their movements before anyone else knows what's going on. It's worth it for a chance to hear their first tiny little cries. It's worth it for a chance to count their little fingers and toes. It's worth it for a chance to watch them hit every milestone and to see the world brand new through their eyes. It's worth it for a chance to feel unconditional love and to be loved unconditionally. It's worth it for a chance to fulfill one of God's purposes for us as women. It's worth it for a chance to hear them say "I love you" for the first time. It's worth it for a chance to feel the best hugs ever.

Why do we do it, when there seems like there are so many reasons not to? We do it for a chance at something amazing.

to the moon and back,

Of love and loss and grieving....

Ok, I stole that title from my bosses blog, but it's fitting.

I could start this blog off with "Wow, it's, like totally, been a really long time since I last blogged. I've been sooo super busy with my crazy important life but I totally promise to be better about posting!" (please feel free to read that in your best Valley Girl voice circa 1983), but I won't. Truth is, life happens and while I love writing, and emptying my head of random thoughts (yes, thoughts, plural, I do manage to have more than one, however, trains of thought quickly derail), I also have family, friends, 2.5 jobs, running and the like that fill my days.

I have had a blog brewing in my little brain about the "Are You Mom Enough" article, but my luke warm opinions about most things coupled with the fact that I haven't actually read past the title of the article, have hindered me from diving into that topic further. I am fairly certain, though, that I am not mom enough when you take into account that my almost 3 year old watches TV, has had his vaccinations as well as tylenol & motrin, was only breastfed (and not exclusively, there was formula in the mix) until 14 months, has had (on occasion) a PB&J for breakfast and navigates my iPhone better than me. But that's beside the point, on to the task at hand.

Tonight, I write of love, loss and grieving...

Love... The love of a gracious God, the love of a remarkable mother, the love of humbled friends. First, there is the love of gracious God who gives peace to a family who needs all of the comfort they can get. He has laid out the plans for them and gives them strength though the pain. Then there is the love of a mother, a love that has no rivals. I don't think you can truly understand it until you become one. I'm not taking away from the love a father has for his child, but I am saying that it is a bit different when you have carried, nurtured and felt the child moving from inside you. We give them our bodies for 9 months and in turn they take a piece of our heart with them on the way out. Finally, the love of humbled friends, who no matter how much they do for their friends, no matter how much they give, they are humbled to have the friend who is in need trying to comfort them through her loss.

Loss... One of my dearest friends and her family is having to go through what no one should ever have to experience, the loss of a child. Just a few days ago, after giving birth, she lost her son (you can read about it here). Throughout the pregnancy and birth, she gave her worries to God and above all asked for His will to be done. God's will was done, and part of His plan for Emmett was unveiled as he was able to be an organ donor and has the opportunity to help save the lives of two babies. 

Grieving... I can never claim to know what she is feeling, but I know that since Thursday night, I have been wandering around in a fog with an emptiness in my chest. My heart aches for them and I hate that we (her friends) can't be closer to help her through this and to keep her mind occupied. It's a very helpless feeling to have so much distance between us and to not be able to be with her.

It's amazing how someone so little can fill your heart so much and how you can be filled with so much love so someone that you never got to meet, hold, talk to or cuddle with.

My prayers continue to go out to the Jackson family, I hope you will do the same.

to the moon and back,

I'm crazy, I know...

But I miss it... being pregnant. That DOES NOT mean that I am ready to have another one, because I'm not ready for what comes after the whole pregnancy thing. (Screaming newborn, left over baby weight, hormonal changes, endless diaper changes, endless breastfeeding, sleepless nights...)

The one thing I didn't like? Being caffeine-free... Prior to getting pregnant I tried to get rid of everything that might not be good for baby, and caffeine was one of those things. I'm sorry, a large fat-free cinnamon hazelnut decaf latte is just not the same. I was thrilled to have my caffeine back as was my blood stream (I think that my blood needs a little, or a lot, of thinning out with caffeine).

I feel like I was one of the lucky ones. When I was pregnant with Moose I didn't have any morning sickness. The worst that I could say is that in the beginning I was exhausted ALL of the time, to the point where I could not keep my eyes open after about 2:00 in the afternoon. I did have waves of nausea, but it was nothing alittle food didn't fix! I only actually threw up once, but we were on a cruise (the roughest waters we had ever seen on a cruise) so I think it was actually a combination of seasickness and being pregnant.

I didn't have any back pain or hip pain (I went to a chiropractor my whole pregnancy, thank you Dr. Jackson). I wore heels up until about a week before I gave birth. My due date came and went and I was ok with that. As far as I was concerned, he could stay. People said I was crazy, but as long as he was inside, I knew for sure he had everything he needed, no guessing!

I really liked being pregnant. I miss the feeling of the baby moving and getting the hiccups. I miss the closeness. I must also admit, the vain side of me, misses the attention, too. (insert sarcasm font) I do miss the excitement of it all though. Not just the excitement of having the baby, but of knowing that my body was growing a person with fingers, toes, lungs, a heart and everything else. It was amazing and a huge part of me can't believe that it's been 2 years since I was actually pregnant. Crazy...

There is nothing in the world like being pregnant, good or bad. I think every mother would admit that. It's kinda sad that men don't get to know that, but let's face it, they couldn't handle it. Jon, for example, has to open the package of his new gadgets before we even get out of the parking lot of the store, there is no way he could go 9 months!

I have to say, no matter how much I miss it, I'm not ready for another one, yet. In the mean time, I have my memories... at least some of them... Have I mentioned I have a horrible memory? Which means that I will probably forget that I actually typed this and be pregnant next week... (HA...HA...HA...Definitely insert sarcasm font here)!!

Emotional Eater, Party of One...

I'm an emotional eater, there I said it... what a weight off my shoulders! Now hand me a cream puff... crap, there it goes again.

Basically, it goes like this...

• When I'm happy, I celebrate with eating
• When I'm sad, I self medicate with food
• When I'm stressed, I feel better with chocolate
• When something good happens, we go out to dinner
• When my favorite TV show is on, bring out the pretzels

Notice a pattern here?  I sure do... but I rationalize by saying, "I'll be better tomorrow".

Tomorrow... ahh, tomorrow... there is always tomorrow, yet tomorrow never seems to get here.

Why do I do this? Beats me, I mean, technically I feel better mid bite, but before I can brush the crumbs off my shirt, I am already thinking, "Why, did I eat that? I didn't need it". Then I walk by the pantry and hear the peanut butter calling my name.

How does emotional eating effect dieting?? Umm, hello, negatively!

Sure, I still blame those few extra lbs on baby weight (I know he's almost 2, don't judge me!), but I'm starting to think that those 4 cream puffs I just ate aren't helping anything either. I gained (gulp) 49lbs when I was pregnant. The 2 weeks after he was born I lost 30lbs (postpartum and breastfeeding will do that to you). A few of those lbs creeped back (mainly on my thighs, I think) and I am still about 25lbs or so heavier than I was pre-pregnancy... ugh... Let me be perfectly clear, I am by no means saying I'm fat, I am just not at my goal weight. Sometimes being a girl sucks! *We are always worrying about weight, makeup, fashion, shoes, skin care, being submissive little housewives... (haha!!! Now that I have set the feminist movement back a few years, I'll stop!)

*Disclaimer: Just to clarify, I was making a joke about the things we actually worry about, we are way more complex than that, I mean, I didn't even mention hair care... ;)

And now for a laugh (more cartoons I came across while searching for one to suit the topic):