Sunday, August 31, 2008

Lazy Sunday

I somehow managed to sleep in until almost noon today. And now that I've been awake for a couple of hours, I kind of want to go back to sleep again. My accomplishments for today consist of:
  • Eating Cheerios
  • Playing Guitar Hero
  • Listening to the Beatles
  • Accidentally locking the kitten in the master bedroom for 40 minutes (She didn't mind, she merely used the opportunity to nap beneath the dresser)
Before I know it, Tuesday will be here and I'll be left wondering how in the world the weekend managed to end so quickly with so little to show for it.

This is pretty much me today, if I were a pair of lazy animals instead of a single lazy person:

Rocky and Sega Are Seriously Knocked Out

How is everyone's holiday weekend going so far?

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Pregnant Lady Quiz 2

It's quiz time again! This month, the prize is something [slightly] more substantial. In addition to an invisible puppy, the person who scores best will get a haiku written about them or their blog. I know some of you may not think that there's anything particularly glamorous about a stranger writing a poem about you, but I like to think that there is something attractive about earning the bragging rights to say, "I'm so kickass that the Internet wrote a poem about me."

As per usual, we use the honor system around here, but I like to think that nobody was really tempted to use Google in the first place.

Here are this month's True or False questions:

Yay or Nay?

1. Nosebleeds are a symptom of early pregnancy.
2. Semen contains an enzyme that can cause early labor.
3. The oldest woman to give birth was 61 years old at the time of delivery.
4. The worldwide average of weaning a child from the breast is four years old.
5. After the first trimester, amniotic fluid consists mostly of fetal urine.
I'll go over the answers in a few days. Leave your answers in the comments below!

Also, here's the link to Pregnant Lady Quiz 1 and the answers if you missed it.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

I Lied To My Mom About Trying To Conceive

My mother doesn't know about this blog, and she doesn't know that Marcus and I are trying to conceive again. It kills me because I very badly want to tell her. For the past couple of months it's merely been something that I neglected to mention to her, but while we were vacationing at the beach in early August, she asked me point-blank, "Are you trying to have a baby?"

And I looked at her and told her no. She looked disappointed and said only, "Oh."

My mother and I have a terrific relationship. I cannot even begin to express how much I look up to her and how intensely I love her. I also see a lot of myself in her; she's given me so much of her personality, which I appreciate because I really do love myself and the kind of person I've grown to be. I hate to lie to her. I hate to keep this secret.

But the alternative is simply too risky. When I lost my first pregnancy, Mom mourned almost as deeply as Marcus and I did. She was devastated. There are 13 children between my mother and her three sisters, and not one of them has experienced a pregnancy loss. She never believed for a second that she would not have a grandchild in August.

She never thought for a moment that I would not be a mother right now.

I understand my mother, because we're so much alike. If I told her the truth, she'd read my blog every day, and she would read into my symptoms even more than I do, and her heart would fly up and then fall down during every cycle that we fail to conceive. Even when we finally do conceive, as hard as it's going to be (because I love my mom and I value her input and support), we're not going to tell our parents until the 2nd trimester, when things are statistically more in our favor.

If I ever miscarry again, I don't want to put my mother through it. I don't ever want to hurt her like that again. I just can't. I love her too much.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

A Little Help, Guys?

I'm going to do something different with the poll this time. I've set up two different polls: one for the ladies, and one for the fellas. I've always been glad to have been born female; I personally find that the biological perks (like not having to worry about squishing my delicates when I ride a unicycle) are worth the social disadvantages. Societal trends and social norms may evolve with plenty of help, but certain biological realities - like the fact that female junk can gestate babies and male junk can't - are pretty much here to stay unless science catches up.

Here are the results from the last poll, which had 57 responses:

If you could decide how long it takes to gestate a full-term baby, which would you prefer?

Less than a month. Get that sucka out ASAP!

12 (21%)

40 weeks is just fine by me, thanks.

33 (57%)

Indefinitely. I just love the perks of pregnancy that much.

3 (5%)

Screw that, I'd like to give birth about three minutes after conception.

9 (15%)

I think it's actually pretty awesome that a few people wish that pregnancy were indefinite. I hope that my full-term experience turns out to be that positive.

Monday, August 25, 2008

TTC: Cycle 3

Verdict: Failure.
Future Prospects: Slightly less optimistic.

I woke up with my period today a full two days early. I didn't notice until I went to the bathroom to pee on a stick, and it caught me entirely by surprise. I guess the silver lining is that I didn't waste another pregnancy test.

I feel like I don't have the right to start feeling nervous about this, but I am. Three failed cycles is not a big deal. It's not abnormal. And many women have certainly had more trouble. But while there are plenty of stats out there regarding how long it takes couples to conceive when they start "trying" (as in, just randomly having unprotected sex at any time of the month), I've never been able to find information on how long it takes couples to conceive when they use fertility awareness methods and regularly have sex within the woman's known fertile window.

It doesn't help that I come from a family of ridiculously fertile women, and thus I've pretty much always expected conception to be easy. When I got pregnant the first time, it was unplanned and happened only about 6 weeks after Marcus and I started gettting lazy with the condoms. It happened so quickly and it confirmed my belief (and my mother's belief) that motherhood would come easily to me.

My nervousness is not so much about the fact that I'm in a rush to conceive. Rather, there is a small part of me that has worried throughout my life that there is something that I don't know about my body, something that will get in my way when I try to conceive, something that may keep me from ever being a mom. My nervousness stems from the paranoia that it's just not ever going to happen, and that I'm being naive by having any sort of hope at all.

As dramatic as this entry may seem, I'm actually not upset at all. At this point I'm just unsettled. And, naturally, disappointed.

For history's sake, I'm going to start posting my charts after every failed cycle.

Trying to Conceive: Chart 3

Sunday, August 24, 2008

The Pregnant Woman As A Warrior

I found this interesting little tidbit about the role of pregnant women in Aztec culture (emphasis mine):

The setting western sun would then be greeted by female warriors, which were the souls of those women who died in childbirth. In Aztec thought, the pregnant woman was like a warrior who symbolically captured her child for the Aztec state in the painful and bloody battle of birth. Considered as female aspects of defeated heroic warriors, women dying in childbirth became fierce goddesses who carried the setting sun into the netherworld realm of Mictlan.

At first glance, that sounds a hell of a lot better than the all-too-frequent Western perception of pregnant women as emotional harpies, doesn't it? However, another source (again, emphasis mine) points out that the only reason pregnant women were considered important was because of the potential war fodder that they carried:

Women were expected to be virginal at marriage, and, according to Clendinnen, and they were given to cement alliances. They could have no public role and only men could speak on high public occasions. In sum, the pregnant young woman was a revered possessor of a valuable commodity: another warrior to die the "Flowery Death" or a girl child to remain (again, in the words pronounced over her at birth) to "provide water, to grind maize, to drudge..."

I managed to find a preview of Aztecs: An Interpretation on Google that allows you to read a significant chunk of the chapter on the role of Aztec mothers. (Start on page 174 of the preview). It's a fascinating read that includes an idea of what an Aztec birthing was like; the kinds of prayers and songs that were sung over pregnant women and their new babies; and neat information about the culture in general, including the fact that the Aztecs thought that the mingling of bodily fluids was necessary for infant growth even after birth - meaning that the parents were obligated to have sex for months after a birth or else they feared that the child would not grow to be a whole person.

Despite the fact that I've never had any personal interest in Aztec culture specifically, I'm almost certainly going to buy this book. There apparently is much more to the story about pregnant warriors than either my first or second source would have me believe.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Introducing "Sperm Meets Egg" Saturday!

It's been a boring day, but I suppose I shouldn't complain, as I've been aching for a chance to rest for the past week. Since I'm still adjusting to "real life" after my vacation, I really didn't get enough sleep during the work week at all, and it's kept me from writing a couple of terrific entries that have been brewing in my head for a while. I hope to get some real [blogging] work done tomorrow before the week starts all over again.

For those of you who haven't noticed (and I think that includes mostly everybody), I've kept an archive of the little Sperm Meets Egg cartoons that I post below my blog title. It's just something silly that I allow myself to have some fun with, and a new one used to get posted in the archive at 8:00AM EST every Monday. I have no idea why I initially picked Mondays, but I've decided that I like the sound of Sperm Meets Egg Saturdays much better. I'm just a sucker for alliteration.

The poll will be closing soon, for all of you who haven't voted yet. Surprisingly, the most difficult part of updating this blog has been trying to think of new poll questions, which is one of the reasons I let them run for so long. But I've found them very worthwhile, especially since I'm almost always surprised by the results, so I'll try my best to keep up with them.

I've been doing a lot of brainstorming about the kind of content I want on my blog. I've got ideas for regular articles, but I'm not quite sure how to get started on them just yet. I'm still largely in my experimental phase of blogging, and I haven't ruled out the possibility of creating a different blog altogether, so that I'll have one for strictly personal stuff and one for strictly informational stuff about pregnancy in general. So far I'm content with the mix here, but I wonder if I do my readers a disservice by not separating the two. If you've got an opinion either way, I'd love to hear it.

Friday, August 22, 2008

My Resolve Is Waning

I think that I'm going to give in. I'm 10-11 days past ovulation and although my chart doesn't look very good, I'm starting to feel pretty anxious to whip out a pregnancy test. My post-ovulation temps look rather similar to my first failed month, so I've no reason to think that this cycle will be any more successful, but I can't help wanting to know for sure. The blue line in the chart below (click the image to see the larger version) shows my temps for my very first cycle, while the green line represents my current cycle. Like that first cycle, my post-ov temps (the ones after the red vertical line) have started a rocky downward trend only a few days after I ovulated.

Trying to Conceive: Chart Overlay
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the significance of post-ov temps, higher temperatures are indicative of a steady presence of progesterone in a woman's body. After ovulation, the follicle that released an egg (now called the corpus lutuem) starts to produce progesterone, which raises a woman's basal body temperature. If the egg is not fertilized or fails to implant, the corpus luteum dies and the progesterone supply runs out, temps drop, and menstruation begins soon after. But if a fertilized egg does successfully implant, then the corpus luteum gets to live a while longer and continue progesterone production, so temps stay high.

The fact that my temps are not as high as I'd like doesn't mean that all hope is lost. It's not over till the blood starts flowing. But I'm not feeling very enthusiastic about this month either.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

My Coworkers Apparently Don't Know Who I Am Anymore

I just had the following conversation with a guy at work.

Me: Hey, Jim.
Jim: Sony, hi! How are you?
Me: Um, did you just call me Sony?
Jim: Uh, yeah, I did. I have a Sony...thing...at home. I don't know...*incoherent mumbling*
Me: ...
Jim: ...

At least he didn't call me anything completely outrageous like Magnavox or Daewoo. The funniest thing is that I think he really would have continued the conversation unfazed if I hadn't noticed his error (and I almost didn't). I also can't help picturing a passionate scene in which Jim, caught up in the throes of lovemaking, accidentally calls out the name of his refrigerator instead of his lover.

"Oh, Kenmore, don't stop!"

You have to admit that it would make for an amusing TV ad.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

What's In A Name?

I love names. Absolutely love them. And I have a ridiculous amount of fun naming things, myself included. When I was a child I gave nicknames to every member of my family; I don't remember the name I gave my mother, but my dad was Big Bird, my little brother was Oscar the Grouch, and I was Bambi (I didn't realize that Bambi was a boy deer and not a girl deer until I was much, much older). I also went through a short stage when I referred to my parents as Homer and Marge and my little brother as Bart.

My cars are named Biff and Spike. My unicycles are named Babar and Momma Bear. My PC's name is Klaus and my iPod's name is The Burninator. My rats (they make excellent pets, by the way) were named Cain, Dresden, and Salem. Our cat Rocky's full name is Rockstar Donatello, Charlie's full name is Charles Michaelangelo, and Sega's full name is - what else? - Sega Genesis.

I even named the little mouse that used to haunt this house when we first bought it, but for the life of me I can't remember what it was. (Edited to add: My husband just reminded me that the little guy's name was Algernon.)

Now I know what you're thinking. You're reading all of this and you're wondering if you should call Child Protective Services on me pre-emptively for the terrible names that my children are certainly doomed to have someday. You're thinking to yourself, "This woman shouldn't be allowed to name a text file, let alone a living being!"

I assure you, dear friends and readers, that one of the reasons I allow myself to have so much fun with names is because I actually take people's names very seriously. There are so many outlets that one can choose to express themselves, their identity, or their message to others on a daily basis: clothing, shoes, hair style or color, glasses, tattoos, piercings, bumper stickers, accessories, jewelry, makeup, the list goes on and on. You could say that these things are all superficial, and you wouldn't necessarily be wrong, but you have to admit that they are all ways that people use to communicate their priorities and passions to others.

A name, while being a form of expression (if not of the named, then at least of the namer), is of course not like a piece of clothing. It's not something you can take off tomorrow if you find that it doesn't suit you anymore. You can get your name changed, of course, but that takes work and a little bit of money, and I'm guessing that the vast majority of the population sticks with the name they were given at birth.

And that is why I take it so seriously. It is more powerful, more resistant to change, more personal. A name can go down in history, can be given in remembrance or honor, can even be revolted or scorned (how many little boys named Adolph do you see running around these days?). And it is something that my husband and I will have the privilege to give, and our children will be (more or less) stuck with our decisions. And they may love it or hate it, but I hope that they know that I did take their naming seriously, and I had hoped from the start that they would see the love and beauty in the names I gave them as much as I do.

Marcus and I have been brainstorming baby names lately (what's wrong with a little pre-emptive naming?), and so far we've come up a with a couple that we're pretty satisfied with. We've even come up with paired names for twins!

What are some of the names that most interest you? Do you love them or hate them?

Monday, August 18, 2008

Symptoms Or Not, I Am Extremely Uncomfortable

I had a little bit of cramping last night, but really, it could have just as easily been gas. And I woke up this morning with my lower back aching quite badly, which is making my first day back at work even more obnoxious than I expected. I'm either 6 or 7 days past ovulation; my temps around O day were not as clear as I'd like, so I'm unsure as to exactly when it happened. I think that 7 dpo is a bit too soon to be feeling any symptoms, and I've certainly fooled myself before with phantom symptoms, but it's kind of nice to think that my August cycle just might be the one.

I'm going to try to hold off from testing for at least a week. So far I'm doing great.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Back Home

I'm back! Our week at the beach was absolutely fantastic, and it just happened to be the longest that Marcus and I have ever had off together. Even though my parents were there, it was pretty much the closest thing to a honeymoon we've ever had; and to say that we needed it would be a grave understatement.

Our trip was off to an awkward start, thanks to the directions we got from Google being only mostly accurate. But we did get there, and for the next week we stayed up late watching bad TV, slept in every day, took naps in the afternoons, and (we did more than sleep, I promise) just finally relaxed. In addition to the sleep, there was boogie boarding, tandem bike riding, lots of frozen custard, mini golf, go-karts, and a trip to the water park.

I also rode my unicycle up and down the boardwalk many times, which was always good for a laugh. It's fun to show off one's skills every once in a while.

I know that I promised lots of pictures, but to honest, we were having too much fun to take any. I only snapped this one shot of the sand directly in front of our balcony:

Frank is a wimp

I don't know who Frank is, but I'm guessing he's not much of a daredevil. Or at least that's what this anonymous beach goer would have me believe. And I've gotta say, the inconsistency of using the lowercase "r" while the rest of the message is in uppercase almost makes this message an art form...almost. The Grammar Banshee inside me weeps.

The best part about coming home is seeing the cats again and getting to cuddle with them on the couch. I practically ran from the car into the house to make sure they were okay, even though my brother had been checking the cats and the house periodically throughout the week. Charlie and Rocky had obviously missed us, while Sega (pictured below looking slightly less evil than usual) didn't seem to hate us any more than she generally does. As far as I'm concerned, that means that all is well.

Sega will hypnotize you

Today I'll be lounging about, doing some laundry, and preparing myself mentally for the return to the office tomorrow morning. I don't have any more vacation time to use until our wedding anniversary in October, so it's going to be a long couple of months until then.

How was everyone else's week?

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Finally, A Break

So my due date, August 9th, has come and gone; and in a way, it was kind of anti-climactic. It was almost like any other day - almost. Marcus and I ran errands, watched a movie, played with our cats, and ate Chinese food.

And we cried, because it was like any other day, and...it just wasn't supposed to be. But it was not the worst day of my life, or even in the top ten of worst days. It was just a painfully normal Saturday.

The participation for the last poll was great, with an astounding 56 responses. Here's the breakdown:

What kind of baby would you most like to care for?

A baby bird. The thought of caring for a helpless infant by regurgitating into its mouth is heartwarming

5 (8%)

A baby elephant. I would ride it to class/work every day, and/or use it to pick up my kid from daycare.

12 (21%)

A baby alligator. Its cold stare will strike fear into the hearts of my enemies!

6 (10%)

A baby human. I hear they make terrific alarm clocks.

33 (58%)

It's a quarter past four in the morning as I write this. Currently, Marcus is cleaning the cat boxes while the cats themselves wonder what the hell we're doing up this early. Soon the packing will be finished (so I'm a procrastinator - sue me) and we'll be on the road towards the beach, where we'll be spending the next week vacationing with my parents, sans Internet. So forgive me if you don't hear from me till then (but I'll have awesome pics, I promise!).

The new poll is up, so don't forget to show me some love and vote while I'm gone. See you in a week!

Friday, August 8, 2008

Pregnancy Loss Awareness

Thanks to everyone who responded to my last entry, This Is My Miscarriage. It is somehow comforting and yet madly saddening to hear about the stories of others: on one hand, I can be grateful that I am not alone and that there are others who understand; but on the other hand, it's upsetting to hear that these things happen to anyone, let alone so many women.

I was surprised, honestly, that I only got one male responder, and that was my husband. I didn't mean for my last entry to be for women only, but it seems like it turned out that way. I've spoken to a few men about their experiences after miscarriage, so I know that they are out there and that it can deeply affect them too. But as much as women are discouraged from grieving their losses for "too long" (whatever that means), I suppose that men are probably even more discouraged from showing their grief at all.

I discovered an article called Mourning My Miscarriage a few days ago. It details the author's miscarriage experience in Japan, where there are temples for women and families to publicly honor and mourn their pregnancy losses. It's a good read, and it's interesting to see the difference in attitudes towards pregnancy loss in Japanese and Western culture. Personally, I do wish that we had the same thing or something similar over here.

I still have a lot of mixed feelings over my last post. Part of me is glad to have gotten it out there, but part of me feels like I should have just kept my mouth shut. I don't think that most people want to hear about pregnancy loss because it's sad and confusing, and people don't want to be sad and confused. So how do you raise awareness amongst a population that, by and large, really doesn't want to know any more about the subject?

There are awareness movements for almost any disorder, syndrome, illness, or mishap that could befall an innocent person. Is there really a place for a Pregnancy Loss Awareness movement? And if so, would anyone listen? Would it even help?

I've still got a lot to think about.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

This Is My Miscarriage

Warning: This post is very long. I considered breaking it up into smaller posts, but it really is a singular piece and I would feel that I am doing myself and my story an injustice by making it bite-sized just for the sake of convenience. This is sensitive subject matter for me and I tried not to hold much back while writing it. I hope that it is appreciated, and I hope that it inspires more women and men to speak up about their own experiences.

I had five ultrasounds in January, and not a single one of them showed any signs of life.

The first one was the worst, because I had actually expected to see something there. I'd counted down the days and hours and finally minutes until the moment that I would see my little August's heartbeat...and that moment never came. When the first images were brought up on the screen, my doctor exclaimed cheerily, “There's the baby!” I grinned, my husband grinned, and my heart was as light as it's ever been.

And then my doctor went silent. It was the loudest and most hideous silence of my life, and it was only the first of many.

I went home that night thinking that I would be able to just jump back into life. I actually planned to return to work the next day. But it didn't happen. I didn't sleep that night at all. I stayed up watching the first season of Heroes, and at 6am I decided to leave a message for my boss letting her know that I wouldn't be coming in.

That turned out to be a mistake. In my shocked and sleepless stupor, I accidentally called her house instead of the office. I explained to her that I hadn't slept in almost 24 hours, that my baby was dead, that I wouldn't be in, and I just started sobbing. I humiliated myself over the phone with her and I didn't have the good sense to just shut up. She was sympathetic, of course, and obviously very uncomfortable, and after we hung up I couldn't stop feeling like a failure to her and myself.

I had my second and third ultrasounds two days after the first, one transvaginal and one standard. The tech was silent when it became apparent that there was no viable pregnancy. And then, when I thought that it was finally over, she explained that the doctor had to double check before I could go. So I had my fourth ultrasound (another transvaginal) just ten minutes later. And again there was that silence as she stared at the screen, looking for any sign of...anything.

I elected to have the D&C rather than to wait for my body to miscarry naturally. I wanted it over with. I wanted it out of my body. It was dead and I wanted it gone. I couldn't stand the thought of bleeding and crying in my parents' bathroom (my husband and I were staying there temporarily due to badly-needed renovations in our own home) for God knows how many days or weeks it would take to happen naturally. I was furious with myself, I was furious with my life, and I was furious with my ridiculous fucking failure of a body.

I didn't have my surgery until five days after that first ultrasound. That day is really what this post is about. That is when I consider my miscarriage to have occurred, even though the baby was already 7 days dead by then. I haven't really talked about that day much in detail to anyone, because it really was the worst day of my life and I can't express how vulnerable it makes me feel to type it up for everyone to read. But I am sharing it because I think that it needs to be talked about; not just my miscarriage, but miscarriage in general.

I did not sleep the night before my surgery. I stayed up, watching TV or browsing the Internet, and I listened to Caleb Kane's “In Your Own Way” on my iPod over and over. I cried even though I felt rather numb, and it was only in the wee hours of the morning that I realized that I was terrified of what was about to happen to me. I wrote to my best friend but I don't remember what I said, and even right now I'm a little scared to look up that email. I don't really want to revisit that mindset.

I was supposed to be at the hospital at 6am. I had talked my husband out of coming with me (which was no easy feat) because...I guess I was trying to be brave. I was trying to prove that I had not been destroyed by my loss. I fooled myself into thinking that I didn't need him, and it was a dumb mistake, because I would come to find out that I really, really did. So my husband stayed at home, and my mother drove me to the hospital. She stayed with me in the waiting room while I listened to Kane's song on repeat.

I kept having to repeat why I was there to various nurses and receptionists and the anesthesiologist and to the other patients in the prep room who saw me crying, and I kept having say “I'm getting a D&C” over and over and over again. I had to say, “I miscarried” over and over and over again to all of these strangers. They sent my mother back to the prep room with me and she sat next to me and cried with me.

They put something in my IV that made me a little fuzzy as they wheeled me back to the operating room, separating me from my mom. There were all these people in scrubs and coats and they were very busy, it seemed. I felt like a tiny little girl, like a failure, and I couldn't stop crying. And then I realized that my surgeon was my OB/GYN, and I had somehow managed to forget that she was 7 months pregnant. Her large belly mocked me. It all seemed so unfair.

I know that when I fell asleep, I was still crying. And that I woke up sobbing. It's a strange sensation, to wake up already crying. I'd never felt it before and I haven't felt it since.

That was one of my lowest moments, when I really lost all sense of reason, all sense of who I was and what I knew about the world. When I woke up, I immediately asked my doctor, “Was it a boy or a girl?” I knew damned well that it was too early to see that, but I asked it anyway, without even thinking. I hadn't even known that the question was in my mind until it escaped my tongue. I've never felt so stupid or so weak in my life.

When I woke up, I was a creature of pure agony. There was no room for anything else. It was over. My August was dead and gone.

They rolled me into recovery, where I sobbed and hyperventilated and basically had an anxiety attack for half an hour, while a nurse stood by looking annoyed. She said that she couldn't take my IV out until my heart rate was low enough, and since I was freaking out, it stayed too high. She wasn't very sympathetic, but I doubt she even knew why I was there. I never told her. Or maybe she did know and she didn't care. I don't know.

Eventually I calmed down, and my husband showed up and my mom went home. I was weak from crying. He brought me a teddy bear, and I held onto it while he held onto me.

I went to the bathroom, and when I peed there was blood in the toilet. I had not seen my own blood in two months, and I could not help but stare. I wasn't supposed to see my blood again until August when the baby was born...and yet here it was. No baby. Just blood. It dripped onto the bathroom floor as I washed my hands at the sink. I couldn't stop it. I didn't have my clothes on, just the hospital gown, and there was no stopping it. I had no control over anything, not even my own body. Especially not my own body. I reported the mess and the nurses were nice enough about it.

My doctor had ordered me to abstain from sex for two weeks after the procedure, or else I was risking a serious infection. I was bitter about that. I needed the comfort of my husband more than anything else at that time, and she told me that I could not have it. We didn't follow her orders. We made love every night for six nights starting the day after my procedure, and it was the one thing that I did right throughout the entire ordeal. I needed him. And he was worth the risk.

I went on short-term medical leave from work. I could have had three weeks to myself, but I felt like I was letting my boss down by tending to my own petty emotional needs, so I only took one. That was yet another mistake in a long line of mistakes.

Two days after my surgery, I came down with a bad fever. My doctor told me to go to the emergency room as soon as possible, and I ended up spending six hours in the hospital getting blood drawn, having yet another ultrasound done, getting my temperature taken, and ultimately being told that I had the extraordinary bad luck of catching a random virus right after surgery, but that there was no sign of infection.

At one point I spent fifteen agonizing minutes being pushed back to my room from ultrasound by a nurse (who was hugely pregnant) and her colleague, who spent the entire time discussing how much the nurse had not ever wanted to be pregnant. To say that it was difficult hearing how much someone else didn't want their pregnancy just days after I'd lost my own is an understatement.

So in my experience, ultrasounds are awful ordeals. They make you hold your pee, then poke around inside you, push on your full bladder, stare at the screen, and tell you that there is nothing inside of you to love anymore. There are pictures of babies on the wall to remind you of what you don't have. There are posters reminding you of the importance of folic acid to your developing child - fat lot of good that does now. There are other women there, and they are pregnant. They do have something to love inside of them. They will be mothers. Not you. You don't belong here anymore.

It's upsetting to write about this. It's upsetting to think about. But no one ever talks about miscarriage, and that only hurts women who have miscarried, because it means that many people don't understand it at all. It's too often thought to be this rare affliction that only happens to women who weren't careful enough with their pregnancies; and that could not be further from the truth. A lot of people don't consider it a real loss. And they say a lot of stupid and hurtful things because they don't know what else to say. You can always try again, it's not too late, you're young, you have plenty of time to start a family, it wasn't mean to be, at least it happened early, blah blah blah. You wouldn't say that to someone whose brother just died, would you? Women who have miscarried a beloved pregnancy have lost part of their FAMILY. That needs to be understood.

Too often it seems that women are expected to get over it, because a pregnancy is often considered to be renewable. Replaceable. Forgettable. And maybe it is for some women, but it isn't for me, and I know a lot of women who also will never forget their losses. And they should not ever be expected to, either.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Google Search Pop Quiz!

Which of these phrases entered into Google did not lead at least one person to this website?
  1. "extreme burden law term"
  2. "period was on 7/1, i haven't gotten my period, am i pregnant?"
  3. "pregnant lady sexy"
  4. "what happens if a pregnant woman goes on camping boat"

Answer: It's a trick question. They were all used to find my blog.

Monday, August 4, 2008

I Didn't Even Know There Was A Miscarriage and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Month

But apparently there is, and it's in October.

Presidential proclamations aside, my miscarriage awareness month is August. It's on my mind in a big way, especially this week leading up to the 9th, and I imagine that I'll be talking about it a lot. I hope that my readers and friends understand. I've already done some crying and I know that it's inevitable that I'll be doing a whole lot more.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

5 Things You Didn't Know About Pregnancy

Here are the answers to Pregnant Lady Quiz 1!

1. Pregnant women are recommended to forgo eating hot dogs.

True, if the hot dog is uncooked or not hot enough to be steaming at the time of consumption. Not only are pregnant women recommended to avoid eating hot dogs, but they should also avoid deli meats, soft cheeses, meat spreads, raw or undercooked meat or fish, and refrigerated seafood. This is because of the risk of contracting Listeriosis, which is caused by eating food contaminated by the bacteria Listeria monocytogenes. Complications from exposure to Listeria may include miscarriage, early labor, or even neonatal death. Listeriosis is actually pretty rare, but pregnant women just happen to be particularly susceptible compared to their non-pregnant adult counterparts.

Fortunately, pregnant ladies don't have to completely cut their favorite deli meats out of their diets; nuking the meat until it's steaming hot is enough to kill off the bacteria, making it safe to eat. Personally, I think that sort of defeats the purpose of deli meat, but what do I know?

2. The youngest mother on record was five years old.

True, unfortunately. Her name was Lina Medina (warning: there is a naked pic of the pregnant child on the linked page) and she was born in Peru in 1933. She suffered from extreme precocious puberty; she started menstruating at the age of 3 and had breasts at the age of 4.

Lina gave birth to her son by C-section; the identity of the father has never been established. Her son has long since died, but she still lives in Peru.

3. Some women have experienced orgasm while giving birth.

True, although this has been contested. At the very least, there are women who claim to have experienced it. Katrina Caslake is one such woman, and she has made it her mission to spread the good news after her unexpected experience.

I'm prone to believe these women myself; not just because of wishful thinking, but because I could definitely see how the sensation of a baby sliding over one's G-spot as it is born could trigger some pretty intense sensations. Every woman's birth experience is different; and even if a pleasurable birth may not be altogether likely, I don't think that it is impossible.

For more information, there is a film called Orgasmic Birth, which chronicles the birth experiences of eleven lucky women.

4. A woman cannot get pregnant if she is breastfeeding.

False. The Lactational Amenorrhea Method (LAM) is a valid and reliable method of birth control with a failure rate of only about 2%, but only if the new mom is breastfeeding exclusively at least 6-10 times in a twenty-four hour period (including several feedings throughout the night), has not had a period yet since delivery, and her infant is less than 6 months old. Once any of these criteria are no longer met, she must find another method of contraception.

Many casually breastfeeding moms can and do get pregnant, mostly due to the misunderstanding of LAM and its rather finicky criteria. For more information on LAM and other natural family planning methods, check out Taking Charge of Your Fertility, which is also an excellent resource for those of us that are trying to conceive.

5. Pregnant women should double their caloric intake.

False. Despite the popular myth of pregnant women needing to "eat for two," pregnant ladies only need to eat an additional 300 calories (on average) during the second and third trimester. You can get that many calories by eating just one low-fat cup of yogurt and an apple.

Congrats to Fiesty, who got all five answers correct. Enjoy your invisible puppy of an unspecified gender and breed, and may you have a happy and healthy pregnancy. And many thanks to Lexy, Nicole, Tigerwong, and chole for participating.

Friday, August 1, 2008

My Cats Obviously Hate Me

Last night, I fell asleep on the couch at 9pm. Apparently at the moment I lost consciousness, I ceased being a person and instead became part of the furniture, and thus there was no need to consider my comfort or lack thereof. So Charlie - all 15 pounds of him - was completely justified in leaping onto my stomach in his efforts to chase the kitten. And Sega (and all 4 of her little kitteny pounds) did not offend me when she used my sleeping face as a trampoline. And Rocky was free to whine and meow and chirp and sing his little attention-whoring heart out.

Despite all that, I actually slept pretty well, and I feel pretty good today.

I'm actually kind of surprised by the poll results so far. So far the human baby is winning by a landslide! And a lot more people are interested in regurgitating into a baby bird's mouth than I expected. We've still got six days left, so I guess that could change.

As for the True or False quiz, the best score so far is 4 out of 5. Can anyone else do better (without cheating!)?

Yay or Nay?

1. Pregnant women are recommended to forgo eating hot dogs.
2. The youngest mother on record was five years old.
3. Some women have experienced orgasm while giving birth.
4. A woman cannot get pregnant if she is breastfeeding.
5. Pregnant women should double their caloric intake.

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