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Sunday, October 31, 2010

An Essay for my Class...


 Our first "assignment" was to write a narrative essay. I chose to write about the day I had my first ultrasound with Quinn and I saw that the pregnancy was viable.
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The Day My World Stood Still
People use many different terms to define “making love.”  There is passion, romance, love, tenderness, spontaneity, or aggression. There is also mundane, monotonous, utility, and lifelessness.  Everyone expects the former, but many receive the latter through no true fault of their own.  When years are spent trying to conceive a child, sex proudly walks the line of both extremes. 
            My husband, Mark, and I married in March of 2007 and immediately began trying to have a baby.  Previously, I spent many years attempting the same fete with my first husband only for it to end in miscarriage and, eventually, divorce.  Dealing with infertility the minute a new marriage starts can be challenging, but we had mutually strong feelings about wanting a family immediately.  
            Our first pregnancy began a little over a year later. Sadly, it ended just as quickly as it had begun.  I was wary, but Mark was not ready to give up and he helped me fight the emotions and depression that threatened to keep me down.  He was determined to make sure we fought every battle we could and exhausted every avenue available. So we kept trying.
            Two years, 5 months, 2 weeks, and 5 days after we began our journey, I found out I was pregnant again. The mixture of emotions was an incredibly powerful thing.  The highs are the highest and the lows are the lowest, and honestly, there just is no middle ground where infertility is concerned.   I knew I had three weeks to wait for our first ultrasound. Time moved slowly, I was distracted and emotional and frustrated.  One cannot know the stress that waiting to find out if your pregnancy is viable does to your psyche. It terrorizes you.
            Finally, after an eternity of waiting, the day came. On August 31st I got up early and went to work just like every other Monday.  I couldn’t focus on anything beyond my appointment.  Two Thirty came and I left and drove so slowly to the doctor’s office. I sat in the parking lot allowed myself to cry hard and long.  There were just so many random thoughts, what if there is something wrong? What if there is no heart beat? What if there is no baby? What if I am not really pregnant and my body is playing a mean, vicious, evil trick on my brain?
            Slowly I got out of the car and I went in. As I waited in the doctor’s office, the thoughts ran through my head, positive, negative, feign indifference.  At some point, I couldn’t tell you exactly, they called me back.  As they began the ultrasound, I couldn’t breathe.  The room was dark and small and hot and I could not see through the water accumulating in my eyes.  The doctor reassured me, patting me on the knee in an almost condescending way. He meant well, but he couldn’t understand, no one could begin to understand my fears.
            As I lay there, wide open and vulnerable, the doctor performed the ultrasound. I spied on the screen now and then, but I couldn’t really watch. I waited and waited. The exam seemed to go on and on. Finally, he said, and I’m not joking, “Eureka!”
            “EUREKA???” I repeated, incensed.  If he only knew the heart attack this man was about to cause me.
            All he said was “look.” And I did. And there it was, this small, grainy fluttering on a TV screen older than me.  It was jerking about and flickering in and out of focus. I grabbed the screen with both hands and stared intensely.  It was alive! And inside me! The tears were flowing, my heart was beating so hard, almost out of my chest, and I just could not believe what I was seeing.  I was finally really pregnant and for a moment, just one moment, the whole world stopped and breathed with me. We knew, the world and me, that nothing was ever, ever going to be the same again.

Saturday, October 30, 2010

"Self-Indulgent" AKA: Thank you Simon Cowell

That's what my post was the other day. Really, really self-indulgent. I wallowed in it deep, didn't I? But ya know, I'm not embarrassed. I thought I would be when I went and read it back. But it was good. I needed to vent out those emotions. They're so intense and just bubbling at the surface of everything I do. I know it's because of being a new Mom and because it's been almost 10 years and the holidays are coming and blah-blah-blah... my point is, there are a lot of reasons why I'm feeling so out-of-sorts and, well, pissed off. But writing helped and knowing someone read it and was touched and concerned? That helped too. (Thanks for your comments Robbyn. You cannot know how much it means to know I am heard.)

So, as far as an update... I'm still pissed off. But I don't feel full of rage at the moment. It could be that I'm healing/dealing. Or it could be my gratuitous use of pharmaceuticals. (Xanax is the new black.) Whichever, I'm glad. I've been really enjoying hanging out with my boy. I've needed that so much. I've felt detached from him. I think it's because I'm so far inside my own head, wallowing in my own pain, that I'm not living in the now. Certainly that's not fair to him.

Tomorrow is Halloween. Quinn is going to be a Devil and I have the cutest picture idea. I won't spoil it. I'll post it tomorrow.

Also, one last complaint: Today was a GREAT hair day. And do you know who saw my great hair? No one. I cannot remember the last time I had a really good hair day. It made me kinda sad. Not sad enough to forgo the Charlie's Angels' hair flip though. Believe it.


Thursday, October 28, 2010

Convo w/ Mark:
J) I'm hungry, that's why I'm not sleep.
M) Eat your attitude and go to sleep.

Wow! He just gets meaner and meaner all the time.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

So Quinn started with the stomach flu last night. I was so anxious abt falling to sleep and missing him get sick- what if he couldn't cry out for us? Ugh! Scary

Monday, October 25, 2010

Guess what??! I can blog from my phone! My own, personal twitter. Y'all are in trouble now, yo.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Emotional Purging

My mom used to call my dad a "Stamp collector" saying he would hold all his emotions and ill-feelings in. Collecting all the wrong-doings until he had enough and then he would sort of explode. The explosions were short lived, I know, I have his temperament.

My mom died almost 10 years ago. For 9 and 1/2 of those years I wasn't angry. I didn't place "blame" it was what it was and it is what it is. But ever since Quinn was born... no before that. When the pregnancy started becoming difficult and I started having problems at work, I started to feel abandoned by her.

I kept pushing those feelings down, refusing to allow myself to feel them. But the more things that come up with Quinn, the more I feel isolated. I know it's whiny, but it's not fair that I don't have my mom to talk to about my boy. And the more I let myself feel things about this, about her, the madder I get. I feel like I need to be angry. I need to point fingers and yell "YOU DID THIS TO ME!" There is no logic in this, that's why it's so hard for me to just let go and feel.

So I don't know what to do. I reached out to my Aunt, her sister, to try to reconnect. I thought that would help. It blew up in my face and made me feel worse. I have attempted to find a surrogate... it helps, but only a little. I keep thinking I need to let it go, to stop feeling so angry and thinking about it ALL THE TIME. It's a determent to my relationships. But I can't seem to take that first step.

And I'm tired of feeling like it's a crutch. "I'm sad cause my mom died"... ten years ago. It sound ridiculous and stupid and emotionally stunted. Maybe I am emotionally stunted. I've always felt like I was years ahead of my peers emotionally. I understand relationships, I understand people in the relationships and I'm good, really good, at seeing things from all sides. But I can't seem to do this right. Not just for myself, but for everyone.

Also, I'm tired of feeling sad. I'm tired of trying not to cry, of sleeping to distract myself... all of it. I want to be me again. I want to think about my mom and feel good. Enough emotional self-flagellation. So if you have any ideas of how to dig myself up out of a hole, feel free to send them my way. TIA. :/

Friday, October 22, 2010

For My Husband (Post #100!!)

Come On, Get Higher by Matt Nathanson

I miss the sound of your voice
And I miss the rush of your skin
And I miss the still of the silence
As you breathe out and I breathe in

If I could walk on water
If I could tell you what's next
I'd make you believe
I'd make you forget

So come on, get higher, loosen my lips
Fath and desire and the swing of your hips
Just pull me down hard

I miss the sound of your voice
Loudest thing in my head
And I ache to remember
All the violent, sweet, perfect words that you said.

If I could walk on water
If I could tell you what's next
I'd make you believe, I'd make you forget.

So come on, get higher, loosen my lips
Faith and desire and the swing of your hips
Just pull me down hard and drown me in love.

I miss the pull of your heart.
I taset the sparks on your tongue
I see angels and devils
And God, when you come on, hold on, hold on, hold on.