I Know Technically It Is Tomorrow

I thought that I was home free and took DelSelva to the Nordstrom Rack to get him some shoes this morning. He pulled an Imelda and bought eight million pairs and I re-enacted Carrie in the bathroom.

Several hours, three clots the size of my fists and a trip to the ER later I have am now not miscarrying anymore. The hospital staff was a delight, DelSelva was a champ and of course my husband rules the world. I am so glad that it is over and have never had a more frightening day. Until you have filled multiple toilets with blood and clots in an hour you have couldn't understand. I was so scared and I knew what was happening--anyone who this happens to as a surprise deserves six months in Bermuda to recover.

I will be alright. The worst is definitely over now. Once you have an OB who is giving you a pelvic exam say, "oh crap, well I am glad I wore my SHOE COVERS" you have hit bottom.

Happy FUCKING NEW YEAR.

Still Here

I think the worst is over. It better be. The past two days have been me trying to fake feeling fine (failing miserably) and wanting to cry. I think I cursed myself 94,000 times for not just having the damn D&C because it sucks and it's still happening.

Thanks to everyone for their good thoughts, I am just trying to get through this and they really do help.

At least my tight jeans fit again. As do my regular bras. Amazing how that fucking works.

Time Bomb

Last week I was making all decisions based on what would be most likely to allow me to hold my shit together. I had a mixed success (only my boss at work knows what has happened but everyone keeps staring at me like I might start bawling and pull out a gun) and am just now sort of starting to feel much of anything (I mean besides the grief emotions and RAGE).

One of those decisions I made was to miscarry at home, I just couldn't face the surgery (even though I know it is so minor and BAH). Sometime Sunday I started questioning this, because it could take four weeks and damn it sucks having a ticking time bomb in your abdomen. So I put myself on a shortened timeline. Of course I have had cramps for three days and nothing doing (some blood today--sorry! GRAPHIC! Delicate people should come back later) so who knows how long this will take.

The doctor recommends using pads, no tampons, and while it took me a minute to figure out what he was talking about I did manage to drag myself to the drugstore to buy some after work. I haven't used a pad since about eighth grade (and somewhere on the internet lives the story of once I got a tampon stuck in my vagina yay me I am smart so look back for that treasure) because they are horrible. But somehow I sorted through the eighty-seven THOUSAND options and bought something. Resentfully. I don't see why I should have to PAY MONEY to bleed out my baby (wow, not doing as well as I thought, sorry for the bitter spurt).

Uncle Chris (ok funny story first, so I get home tonight and his dopp kit is on the back of the toilet. And no shit I could have SWORN his toothbrush holder was a little gray dildo and I was thinking HUH I mean I know this is his vacation but WOW. But no, TOOTHBRUSH HOLDER not anal penetration device, though I suppose it could be multi-purpose) is here this week and J was asking me all about how I was feeling and I look at the poor guy and I think SHUT UP HONEY DON'T MAKE OUR FRIEND LISTEN TO THIS. Because seriously, let's just watch Ninja Warrior on TV and let me enjoy the ibuprofen ok? We'll talk about it later.

All along I thought I just wanted this to be over. It isn't over, and may not be for a while, but the truth is that isn't what I wanted after all. I want this to be a dream, I want to go back to a week ago when I was so happy. But when this part is over I think it will be better, I won't have a bomb in my belly anymore after all.

What It Feels Like

Like the sudden rush of shit to the heart that comes with that phone call you get early in the morning from your mom, the one that starts with "Sweetheart, I have something to tell you . . " but repeated over and over for days and days.

Like the worst loneliness you can imagine, even when you are lying in bed holding hands with your husband who feels exactly the same as you do.

Like you have disappointed everyone you know. If you are like me, and ordinary, you have made both of your parents proud to bursting maybe twice in your life. And mine were so happy they were telling grocery clerks and now it's over.

Like your head is going to burst with rage. Anyone who says "it's God's will," will get a sharp object shoved up their ass. If God doesn't want me to have a baby then God can fuck himself.

Like the nights last for years because you are not sleeping.

Like your heart has been worked over with a cheese grater.

Like nothing matters.

Like the next thing that will happen to you is 4300 people will hock loogies on you at once.

Like your eyes have sprung open to how many people have gone through this very thing.

I know that it will not always feel this way. That one day it will not be so raw. But I know that I will never be quite the same--I'll be like a zipper that got off track and now sticks in that one little place. I just compared myself with a zipper so it also feels like being a crazy person.

Summing Up the Day

The Good: Darla did great with her surgery today and is home in a drug-induced loopiness.

The Bad: Baby is dead.

The Indifferent: Darla pissed all over me in the car.

Devastated

We had an ultrasound today. Where there was a gestational sac but not an embryo. Which means we are much less far along then we thought or no embryo developed.

I'm not doing much but crying at this point.

I hope that we were just WRONG. But I am pretty much sure it is over. And I am not sure what I am going to do.

Aftermath

The aftermath of this windstorm keeps dragging on. While we lost power for only a couple of hours thousands of people are still without it and will be for another week. And it has been freezing tempratures all week. There are record numbers of cases of carbon monoxide poisoning in the hospitals from people bringing grills and other outdoor heating elements inside. Many of these people are immigrants from warm climates--ill equipped to deal with the cold and unable to read the warnings against indoor use on the equipment.

J and are so lucky to have had power (and cable and internet--we are the spoiled brats of the world our wireless didn't even go down). My parents had their's returned over the weekend. It would be such a nightmare to not be able to go home.

I am pretty sure that this will finally stop the Californians from moving here. J and I joke and moan all the time when they show beautiful footage of the city on television. That is two thousand more Californians. This is such a beautiful area but so FUCKING CROWDED we need the bad publicity.

I was KIDDING UNIVERSE, no need to make the volcano erupt now too. I think the snow storm, the horrible Kim tragedy, this wind storm and the continued smokage of Mt. St. Helens should scare of most people--they'll go to Colorado instead.

Besides, look at our serial killer list.

Failure

Everyone has certain foods that start their day off right. For some people that is the classic bacon and eggs, for others just coffee and maybe a pastry. I am not big on breakfast but I love an English muffin (crispy if possible) with peanut butter. That with a glass of milk is a breakfast I can handle any day--whether I feel like it or not.

Except today, when my standard, always-delicious breakfast failed me. MISERABLY. Full body Excorsist puking.

Let us forget today ever happened.

I just need to come up with a new fail-safe meal. DAMN IT

Helpful

So. This sucked.

Hurricane strength winds y'all. We have had the most fucked up winter ever with snow and ice storms and flooding and now this shit. This is SEATTLE. We are supposed to have the mildest climate this side of San Diego.

Fortunately, we at the AB house lost power very briefly and were up and running again. I don't think we ever lost cable. I even got to keep my doctor's appointment this morning.

Others are not so lucky, namely almost everyone we know. Including my parents. My mother and I were talking this morning and she said, "well we have battery powered nothing." So I think she spent the day (schools were closed because no power) checking papers at Starbucks and shopping for baby furniture (she has picked out $1500 worth, UM? MOM).

But we are fine. J is still at fucking work (he is now pathological and I've given up, he just likes to work all the damn time) and I am lying on the couch moaning. I am so sick today I can barely stand it but stand it I will because actually I have no choice.

But at least I can try not to barf while watching MTV's The Duel. I mean that does help.

MIGHTY

I'm a strong, tough MIGHTY woman.

J has a potluck tomorrow. He wanted me to make scalloped potatoes (one of many dishes that I hate that I make that I absolutely hate but is apparently delicious). I really hate scalloped potatoes. The smell of the cream sauce just turns my stomach under the best of circumstances.

I am still baking them right now.

AM SAINT.

I haven't puked once. NERVES OF STEEL.

Brings New Meaning To The Phrase No Tears

It seems most pregnancy books agree, to paraphrase, that eight weeks is when you lose your damn mind. I would like to say that I have a better control of my hormones, emotions and damn self than that but that would make me a liar. The week ended in dry heaves, and heavy sobbing and many many tears. I was so sick and dizzy and miserable and seemed to make it my mission to take poor J along with me.

So I would like to pretend that none of this happened.

Saturday we went to his company's Christmas Party (since they make no pretense that this is a "holiday" party I see no reason I should). Last week I sent J to work with instructions to find out what the girls at his office were wearing to the party and he came back with these vague instructions of, "whatever. . . some people wear jeans some people wear dresses," which is decidely NOT HELPFUL and not his fault but fuck ladies help a sister out. If I had realized exactly how much older most of the workers were than us I might have skewed it a little dressier but I didn't and we showed up in cute jeans and nice shirts.

And were the most casually dressed people there.

There were people in beaded tops and cocktail dresses for fuck's sake. Of course, the bright side in all of this is that I could still rock my designer jeans and there was no damn way I was wearing a cocktail dress. So at least I didn't know ahead of time that I could be having a wardrobe crisis. Also, my boobs looked enormous. Like, I wondered if they were a little much but since I have never really had big boobs before I just went for it.

We won a crockpot though. That was worth going for. And we are still sort of inappropriately excited about it.

Today was a much better day. No heaving. No dizziness. No tears. That is practically perfection.

Why Garrison Keillor Can Suck My Dick

This (you have to watch an ad to get a site pass to salon) pissed me off beyond belief. Garrison Keillor, of Prairie Home Companion, basically demands that all non-Christians start celebrating Christmas or shut the fuck up.

At first blush, it seems like a much milder idea. And if Keillor was merely objecting people who are offended by Christmas well then I take this all back. But since I've encountered this idea a lot, that everyone should celebrate Christmas DAMN IT because we are AMERICANS AND IT IS REQUIRED BY LAW, and because I have never actually met a person who is offended by Christmas (people keep claiming they exit but I swear they are like Big Foot). Look, if you tell me Merry Christmas I will say thank you. If you send me a Christmas card I will thank you for the warm wishes and accept it as a lovely token of the season. I don't care if people hang lights or sing carols.

What I object to, is the FORCED participation in Christmas. Christmas doesn't belong in schools and I don't care if it is Santa or Jesus it just doesn't. There are millions of people in the world that don't participate in the holiday and believe it or not many live here in the US and some attend your local elementary school. Santa bothers me less than the religious stuff, obviously, but there is still this idea that Christmas is NORMAL AND RIGHT and people who don't participate are deviant and we will allow them to sit in this corner and watch. It's fucked up. So just quit it. If you want your kid to be in a Nativity or sing Santa songs well that is what church and community groups are for. Suck it.

Beyond anything else I HATE that people honestly cannot understand why two practicing Jews don't do Christmas. I was raised a Christian, I am well aware of the secular aspects of the holiday. But I was brought up to believe that the reason for the season is the birth of Christ. That all of the joy and generosity that now stem from these traditions are inspired by this event. And I don't believe in Jesus. So it strikes me as horribly disrespectful to all Christians to do their holiday with less than a whole heart. That may not be true for your family, even if you are Jewish or atheist or Hindu or whatever. But it is true for mine.

The other side is that Christianity and Judaism are incompatible belief systems. You cannot believe both, I do not care what people say about Judeo-Christian beliefs. You just can't. And Christians have a long, sordid history of forcing Jews to participate in Christianity. So it is pretty fucking incredible that people expect it of us now. DEMAND it of us now without thinking of that. We celebrate the day with my family. We help them celebrate. That is a way that we feel comfortable with. Would everyone else (including my parents) be a lot happier if we got a tree and sent out cards and just conformed? Probably. But that really is bullshit. It's inappropriate and disrespectful and I am TIRED of being pushed on it.

When I was a child, I really felt the joy of the season. I didn't have the capacity to really feel all the spiritual things that are tied up in it but I have fantastic memories of those times. I do not have the ability to feel that way about Christmas anymore. And that is fine with me. And it should be fine with everyone else too. Maybe the reason they get so upset about our practices is that they find their own wanting.

On The Market

I went and got a haircut on Saturday.

Let us all clap and cheer that I don't look like a yeti anymore. It had been three months people, I had enough hair for us all.

I love my hairdresser because he is just the right proportion of paying attention and self-absorbed. And he is single so he always has drama to tell me about. Example. This week? His girlfriend dumped him via text message.

I immediately blurted out, "Who do you think you are? K-FED?"

Which is funny right? And he snickered. And then he turned all twitchy faced and was all, "I bet she thinks that is HILARIOUS."

Way to be an asshole AB.

Honestly, I do not understand breaking up with your boyfriend of THREE YEARS over a text message. Or breaking up with anyone that way. I suppose this is the new breaking up with the answering machine but it is a monster dick move. And he was pitiful. All, angsty and talking about how he wanted to work it out but she wouldn't even talk to him and blah blah blah.

I swear he was about to write in his diary and listen to the Cure all afternoon after I left.

I've confessed here before that I think he is just adorable. Dreamy even. And can you imagine how great your hair would look if your boyfriend blew it out for you every morning?

Good thing J has me in lock-down huh?

Wide Awake

I've been up since 4 am. I woke up to pee and then had to deal with a dachshund who wanted to play in the now snow-free yard. By the time I got settled back in bed I was hungry and after yesterday I am not messing with hungry (even after my double cheeseburger I was still hungry, I could eaten five of those fuckers).

This is how I am lying on the couch, eating cereal (still hungry!) and watching City Confidential on Ti-Faux.

I grabbed a blanket out of the linen cupboard and it smelled a little stale. So I sprayed it down with Febreeze. Anyone else notice that Target's generic Febreeze smells exactly like Brut cologne? This is my grandpa's cologne so I find it a comforting and homey smell. Wrapped up in my grandpa--not such a bad way to begin a Saturday.

At Least I Didn't Actually Vomit On The Train

WHY does Mystery, Alaska make me cry?

I a had a terrible, dirty rotten, no-good day involving intense hunger and no desire to eat and PUKING. Y'all are on the edge of your blog-reading seats yes. It seemed to drag on forever and damn I am glad to be back at home on my couch under a blanket. If only J could hurry with the cheeseburger (the poor dear, he called early and I was crying because I was hungry--gee I AM RATIONAL).

So, go read Alice, who is a fucking genious. I am so irritated by the shit that this country puts women through about motherhood. And now we are supposed to be in a state of constant readiness to be incubators and GOD FORBID we enjoy any adult pleasures like booze when GASP think of the children.

Notice that men have to give up jack shit. So much for solidarity.

Nothing to see here, I am all het up about not much and lying on the couch hoping for death (or a cheeseburger).