With a Little Help from My Friends
My mojo read my post yesterday, and she sent me a really bitchy text message:
“Duh, there are lots of really great bloggers around you who might be willing to help you out a little bit until I feel like coming home.”
And, darn that hag, but she’s always right. She’s got the groove like that.
So I asked around a bit yesterday (do you guys realize just how freaking great Twitter is?), and it looks like some really great people are going to help me get through this, while keeping you all quite pleasantly entertained. Each of them is simply fabulous in his/her own way. And I am immeasurably honored and delighted that each of them said yes when I asked them if they’d guest post for me sometime in January.
So, as I bounce around trying to find my motivation, and hammer my way back to producing content I feel like showing you guys, there will be some amazing guest posts here, from those other bloggers.
If you’d like a sneak peek at who’s going to be popping in sometime during January, check the sidebar. I’ll be adding a list of them there as they sign on to guest post.
I’ll still be in and out, making sure you don’t forget all about me in the presence of real talent posting here and there throughout January. Because, let’s face it: Mojo or Nojo, I will have things I need to say. (That whole “mouthy” thing.)
But they’ll be filling in the gaps I would have otherwise been leaving while mired in the Muck of Blah.
They’re giving to me (and you) of their minds and their time. That’s the most sincere gift you can give a person, quite frankly. I am thankful to them.
And I know you are all in for a treat. I hope you enjoy each post. I know I will.
But how the hell my mojo even got a cell phone is beyond me.
And it’s going to be bothering me for some time.
Will this ever end? HELL TO THE NO!
I thought about whining to you some more about the awful moments we had during our travels this past week. I even started writing the post. It went something like this:
“Whine whine whine tantrums blah blah blah vomit simper wimper fuss diarrhea waaaahhhmbulance traffic jams, blah blah etc, etc, poor me, whine.”
About halfway through I reflected upon things and thought, hey! Maybe they don’t want to read that regurgitated poop (puns intended) that I’ve really already mentioned in quite enough detail to please everyone.
So instead? More answers to your questions – because really, I have yet to break into this homework assignment far enough, and I shall continue hammering at it, You Wonderful People! This may take some time – I don’t answer questions in a brief manner very well, so I really only have room for a handful in each post before the darn thing is long and unruly.
Feel free to add more questions on to the original questions post, and as I move through, I’ll just continue answering whatever you want to know. I’m happy to do it, as I get to it. (Yay for stupid rhymes!)
Previous Posts Containing Answers:
- Answers to “Food-Based” Questions
- The Nipple Showing Question
- Second Installment of Answers
- Third Installment of Answers
Today’s Installment:
Kat asked: “How many kids do you want to have?”
Well, when I was a kid, I thought I’d have “several.” As I grew older, “several” became more like “3.” I suppose maybe that has something to do with feeling comfortable with what you’re used to, as there were 3 children in my immediate family growing up.
I still felt that way until my recent miscarriage. During the time directly following that unfortunate event, I had episodes where I was pretty sure I never wanted to have another child. Instead, I wanted to cling to the idea of getting back the one that had died. Whatever your ideas about the death of a child may be, it is of no consequence, because what I wanted was that very same child, at that very same time, in that very same flesh. And that, friends, is impossible, so I was coming to the point of stubbornly wanting none if I couldn’t have exactly what I had wanted.
The proverbial sour grape, I guess. Probably more like the tortured, wounded heart. I needed more time to grieve.
There’s no amount of “healing” that can happen to make it all better. Writing helped. Reading and talking to others helped. Being there for other people now helps. I do better on a day to day basis, as far as managing my emotions.
Of course, being pregnant again also helps, even if I’m a nervous ninny a lot of the time. It gives me something else to worry about and look forward to, so my emotional cup is crowded with other things, and there is less room for the swirling currents of pain and sadness.
I do keep thinking about December 24. That is the day the baby was due, and it is creeping up on me. I’m not sure what I will feel on that day. Today when I thought about it, I cried a little. Perhaps playing Santa will take away some of the pain.
I am just fine now with having 2 children, but I am anticipating the impending stress of having a newborn, a 3 year old, a husband on the road, and several Internet jobs calling for my attention, all at one time. I’m thinking maybe 2 children will be enough to drive me completely batshit nuts fulfill my life. 
LONG ASS ANSWER short? Two children, kthxbai.
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Kerrianne asked: “Heels or flats?”
OH BABY. Shoes? We’re talking shoes, here?
I love shoes. Flats, heels, whatever!
For pity’s sake, I even over-shoe-shop for my kid! He has 6 pair that fit him right now. (Even if he did call them “shits” at one point.) Yup. I have a problem. Heh.
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Veronica asked: “Are you nervous about the results of the Bloggies?”
Now THAT will show you how dated these questions are.
Yes, I was nervous about the results. In many ways, I am very laid back. But I am driven, and if I enter into something, I cannot fail. Must not fail.
So yes, I was nervous. When I found out I made it to the finals, I was 100% dorkishly happy and stupidly spastic. Being there with my beloved friend Alli made it that much more golden.
We both lost to that outlandish whore, Jezebel.
Bah! We are better than Jezebel. And way, way hotter. So there.
(Seeing this hot piece win her category made it all better, though.)
**************
Marylin asked, “When are you going to get that monkey you were on about in the Blog365 forums?”
HAHAHAHA! I told practically EVERYONE that I had a monkey and it would dance for them, or I was going to get a monkey and they should pet him, etc, etc when I was on cocaine (aka participating in Blog365).
But, Marylin, I DO have a monkey.
He’s 2 and his name is Braden. You may have seen me talk about him? *snort*
As for the Hippopotamus I also mentioned a lot during NaBloPoMo? No comment. *coughmyownasscoughsneeze*
Is this post too long? Did you read it all? Do you give a crap at all anymore? No?
Good, me either. More later!
The light is faith and hope.
Today’s Photohunt Theme is “Road”
Looking Ahead While Moving Forward
I took that photo about a year ago. It’s been quite a long year, and yet, in the moment, it seems to have passed in the blink of an eye. The road was long and winding. A lot of it was uphill. There were definitely potholes. Once, I even hit a sinkhole. It felt like I would never escape that. It left me with some scars I’ll carry with me always, but I think I’ve climbed out of the hole now. And we’re driving ever onward.
The road may have been a rough one, true… But there were enough fun and thrilling curves to ride, and the number of speed bumps was low enough that, well… the light you see up ahead in that picture?
Well, I still see it, too.
I Wonder… best and worst advice you’ve ever received?
In my post last Thursday I shared an email from a friend about remembering to be grateful for the blessings we have in our lives. I do try to practice that on a regular basis – likely, you can see how well I notice the beauty around me in the photographs I have shared with you. Sometimes, though, I get very emotional and wrapped up in myself, worrying about finding a happiness I haven’t even got a definition for – chasing after something imagined that I think I’m supposed to be able to close my hands around to make everything better. In chasing that mentally, I can lose sight of blessings in my immediate view. This is (I believe) what Jenny was warning against. Her email was a reminder not to chase after that imagined thing, but to revel in the beauty your life already holds.
In a past email Jenny sent, she also mentioned that the best thing she did to help her heal was to let herself feel all the emotions that resulted from the heartbreak of her miscarriages. I think that’s important to mention, too. And this applies to any kind of heartache or grief, any emotionally tumultuous experience you might have. I think tempering yourself between these pieces of advice – fully experiencing the pain while still remembering your blessings – is the best place to be.
We can’t push down the painful feelings and just wash, rinse, and repeat the “be grateful for what you have, be grateful for what you have” to ourselves over and over again, as if validating the painful emotions would be a sign that we’re not grateful for what we have. (I know that Jenny understands that, because she shared with me that allowing herself to experience those emotions fully was the only way she’d be sure she would actually really heal in the long run.) But I wanted to make the point here, too. Because I think allowing yourself to be in pain when you are in pain is just as important to remember as consciously taking note of your blessings and being grateful for what you have.
Obviously, I feel that these are good pieces of advice – some of it is Jenny’s (that I agree with) and some of it is my own. And I clearly wouldn’t pass it on to you if I didn’t think it would do someone some good.
So, for today’s installment of “I Wonder…”
What’s the best piece of unsolicited advice you’ve ever gotten?
What’s the worst piece of unsolicited advice you’ve ever gotten?
Taking it one emotional bump at a time.
It’s that time of the month when I’m more emotional than usual. More sad. More stressed. More angry. More prone to tears, what ifs, and blank stares.
Recently, a long-time and very dear friend of mine named Jenny sent me an email that carries important words, and good advice. I asked her permission to share it with you all, and she agreed.
So, for any of you out there who are feeling, have felt, or will feel the same way I do right now, maybe you’ll find something here that helps you turn it around, or just to deal with it more effectively. Or maybe just to make it through another day without feeling like giving up.
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I know you didn’t ask for any advice, and so against my better judgment I’m going to offer some without solicitation, and I hope you’ll forgive me for doing so. You know my story, you know about all my failed pregnancies. Five years ago, I was struggling. My life wasn’t turning out like I wanted. I had dead babies instead of living ones. I had no answers and no health insurance to help me find answers. I had crazy moods and baby hamster hairballs in the shower drain and an empty womb and it wasn’t what I had planned. All my friends were on their 3rd or 4th child by then. I was tired of going to other people’s baby showers. I was broken hearted every time I looked in the spare closet and saw baby clothes and gear staring back at me, taunting me with their uselessness. I absolutely hated to hear any pregnant woman complain about her nausea, her swollen feet, her tiredness- what I would give for any of that. After the hopefulness that came with each positive pregnancy test, came the fear of loss, the inevitable emotional investment and hope, and then the emptiness of actual loss.
Then came this moment where I could see clearly: While I really do believe that most of the pain of the human experience is self-inflicted, some things are truly beyond our control. My life is not always about my choices. Things happen to us, and we get no say in how they turn out. What could I do about my childbearing life at that point? Could I change history, or even my obstetrical future? No. The situation was out of my hands. But the great realization was about gratitude. Could I hold my babies and raise them and nurse them? No, but I had other opportunities that my friends with little babies did not: I could go out of the house for more than 2 or 3 hours at a time. Heck, I could go out of town if I wanted. I could give blood, and do upside down yoga poses. I could make love to my husband without the let-down reflex squirting breast milk everywhere. I could work and take night classes. I could sky dive and ride roller coasters.
I couldn’t control what was happening to my body. I had to resort myself to the fact that 1- I may never know what is causing this to happen, and 2- I may never give birth to another living child. Rather than dwelling on those uncontrollable elements, I chose to focus on what I did have. The summation of the realization for me was this: Be grateful for what you have, when you have it.
I could spend my time and energy wanting what I couldn’t have, wishing for something beyond my control, hoping for karma or God to sort out the kinks and make everything right, or I could make the most of what I had right then, even if it wasn’t what I had hoped. I realized that no matter what life is handing me, I have a multitude of blessings to make the journey pleasant, even wonderful, if I choose to see them. Life is fluid, ever changing and shifting. I would not always be in the place, emotionally, mentally, that I was in then. Who’s to say if I’d be in a better one or not, that is also out of my hands to a degree. I knew that if I did have another child, I would have a host of other challenges, as well as blessings to appreciate. But for now, this is what I had. And I owed it to my husband and living children who were depending on me, and to God who gives me each day, to make it count for something. If not, life would end up passing me by while I hoped for what was around the corner. Be thankful for what you have, when you have it.
Again, know that I care and I want you to feel well and whole. If I’m full of crap, you won’t hurt my feelings to 1- roll your eyes and hit delete, or 2- write me back in all caps and tell me how wrong I am.
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Of course, I didn’t roll my eyes. I nodded and cried. And now I look back at these words often.
I think I’m going to take Braden to the park on Thursday and watch him run around and remember that the day he was born to me, whole and alive, was such a special blessing. Every day after that with him (even the tough ones) has been another special blessing in and of itself. There’s really nothing bad that can happen that can ever take from me the great gift of everything I’ve experienced so far with my son. So many wonderful things and moments – there’s no way to catalog them.
Today, I am thankful for that. And remembering to be thankful for that makes the other stuff easier to deal with.
Baby steps.
Thank you, dear friend.
Twenty-Four Hours.
Today, Saturday, marks the one week point. It’s been one week since the bleeding of miscarriage began. One week since I sat on the toilet, with Braden happily splashing in the tub to my left, looking down at the blood in disbelief. Just one week since I began crying hysterically as more blood came. One week since I fumbled the phone, almost dropping it into the toilet, to give my husband the worst news I have ever delivered to anyone.
One week since I laid my face on the floor next to the bathtub crying, begging out loud that this not be what I thought it was. One week since I sobbed uncontrollably there, and Braden giggled in response because he thought I was laughing.
Last Friday night, I took this photo.
I was tired and emotional after watching a movie and thinking of an old hurt.
I attributed much of my emotional response then to pregnancy hormones. You know how they are.
Almost exactly 24 hours after I took this photo, I started bleeding; miscarrying.
Twenty-four hours after that, I was waiting with high anxiety and nervous trepidation to visit my doctor the next morning for blood tests.
Twenty-four hours later yet, I was standing in my kitchen, having not received the test results yet, speaking to my (empty) uterus with fractured, clinging hope.
“Are you still in there? Is it possible? I love you. Please fight; please hold on, little baby.”
That night, I fell asleep while I repeated the same thing over and over again in my head.
“God, please let my baby live. God, please let my baby live. God, please….”
The photo is sad irony.
It is a perfect portrait of how I feel right now.
All I can hope for is for each new 24 hour passage to take me closer to whole again.
I’m scared.
Haik’ave you seen mah baby daddy?
Almost one month now
since I quit taking The Pill.
I am healing well.
Gone back pain and ache!
Bye-bye to dragging fatigue…
Hello, Libido! 
No more strange crying.
And flat affect is replaced
by more steady joy.
Now I am just sad
because my very best friend’s
on the road again.
Good thing I have my
very own munchkin to keep
me laughing all day.
Still, this lil’ momma
sure is ready to see “her
baby daddy” soon!
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