Again

This is written as a first draft and I do not plan to edit it.  It's the facts and exactly how I'm feeling.  It doesn't paint a nice, perfect picture of me or the situation but it's honest and real.


September 5, 2013 I found out I was pregnant again.  It was a surprise.  After 10 years of testing every month, waiting in anticipation and hoping for the best I had given up.  After multiple miscarriages, failed fertility treatments and emotional turmoil, I had accepted that I would be the mother to only one living child.  I can't tell you the exact day or the moment I gave up but sometime over this year I accepted my fate of only having one child.  I had found a happy place, not just content but happy with myself.   I had a focus, a new goal.  I was marathon training, taking care of myself and being the best me I could. 

Then on Sept. 5, I became violently ill for about an hour and a half.  After I was fine but exhausted.  After two people hinted at pregnancy, I went to find a test.  Imagine my shock when I didn't even know if I had any.  This was so surprising as it had been an anchor for me for so long.  I peed on it figuring it would be the same as usual and come up negative.  SURPRISE the pregnancy line turned pink immediately.  It was instant and it was bright.  I was in total shock.  I wasn't happy at first but sad.  Extremely and overwhelmingly sad.  I'd made all these plans, finally had started moving on with my life and planning the future.  I wasn't tethered by the possibility of a pregnancy.  I had stopped trying and it happened.  I had actually done more than just stopped trying, I was actively trying NOT to get pregnant.  When my husband arrived home, I told him almost immediately.  He was so thrilled, he's wanted more children and hadn't given up.  My tears hurt him.  He understood my feelings and allowed me to have them without judgment but it hurt knowing he felt he had to hide his joy.  I told him I was in a no win situation.  If I miscarried again, it would hurt just as the others had but that I wasn't ready to have another.  I had plans and goals I was working toward.  The timing wasn't right. Our marriage, going through a rocky time, wasn't right.  I felt selfish for feeling this way but it was honest.

The next day, I spent some time alone and came to terms with what was happening.  Dare I say, I even became excited.  I started thinking of the joys of pregnancy, the trial, and so much more.  I was still reserved though - terrified that something could happen.  I figured out that I was around 8 weeks.  Though I thought I'd had two periods in Aug both weren't normal and after talking with my Naturopath, we doubted that either of them were a real period. I made an appointment with an OB based off her recommendation and was all set for Sept 10.

Saturday, Sept 7, I started spotting, it was dark and minimal.  I became instantly scared, after all this is what happened the last two times.  Through out the day, I experience mild cramping.   We were scheduled to host a party at our house and tried to remain focused on it.  There was plenty to do and I was able to space my trips to the bathroom.  I become crazy about going to the bathroom and checking for blood.  The spotting seemed to have stopped.  YAY!  I was able to enjoy the party and keep the fear at the back of my mind.

Sunday, Sept 8, my birthday!  I wake up nervous but find no spotting from over night!  YAY!! My husband and I go for a nice 4 mile walk where I experience some more light cramping low on my right but I figure that it's normal stretching or something.  I have to wrap my mind around it somehow and make it ok.  Upon returning to the house, I find that I've started spotting again.  This causes me a huge amount of stress and I decide I want MY DAY to just involve relaxing and having family time. 

Monday, I call the doctor regarding my appointment on Tuesday, I want to make sure I will have an ultrasound.  My spotting has become more consistent and I'm a nervous wreck.  The lady that answers the phone tells me no.  I will not have an u/s as the tech is out until Wednesday.  This unacceptable.  I don't want an appointment where they'll just tell me I'm pregnant - I already know this.  I decide to call the Dr. I had when I miscarried in 2010.  They are able to fit me on Tues. too.  It's a little later in the day but I am guaranteed an u/s!  I spend the rest of the day resisting the urge to go to the restroom.  I'm also fighting bouts of nausea and mild cramping discomfort.  I'm wondering what is in my head and what's real. 

Tuesday, will 2 o'clock ever get here?! Around 12 I tell my husband I can't be at the office any more.  We need to go somewhere, anywhere to give me something else to focus on.  My bleeding has slowly increased and I know something isn't right.  I refuse to believe the worst until I'm told.  So, we decide to go have a light lunch and wait out the time remaining.  We get to the dr. appointment a few minutes early and then we wait.  We wait some more and then a little more.  Around 2:30, I finally get called back.  They do the normal checking of vitals and prepare me for the u/s.  Then they do the internal ultrasound and he tells me

the uterus is empty and shows no signs of pregnancy

my world stops

my tears roll slowly down my cheeks

He keeps talking and explaining to me everything I'm seeing, I don't really hear much.  All I want to say is 'stop talking".  I'm not pregnant but I know I was.  I'm living another nightmare. 

I snap back to reality when he tells me that it looks like I may have a ectopic pregnancy.  That there is
blood in my abdomen and it appears there is something in my tube.  He wants me to go to the hospital where they have better equipment and have another u/s done.  He calls and makes the arrangements and we head over. 

Yes, I have a tubal pregnancy.  They can never be 100% positive but they believe it to be in the high 90s.  I request to have the blood work done just in case.  The dr. talks with me and decides to wait until the next morning to do the surgery.  I don't appear to be in severe pain so he doesn't believe it will rupture while waiting just a few extra hours.  The room he likes is available and we are scheduled for 10 am on Sept. 11.   I am to arrive at 8 for prepping and he will see me in the morning. 
I head home to spend time with my precious baby boy and explain to him that the baby isn't really a baby because it's growing in the wrong place. 

I cry most of the evening until I fall asleep.  I manage to get a good nights sleep but my heart aches. 

I arrive at the hospital, they have issues putting the IV in my hand and end up putting it in my elbow.  This is fine with me.  I'd rather have it there anyway.  I wish they'd figured that out before I ended up with a collapsed vein and a huge bruise on my hand. 

I wake up in recovery with a lot less pain than expected.  In fact, I'm more upset to come out of dreamland than I am at facing the pain.  It was minimal.  I stay in recovery a little longer than needed because they don't have a room for me.  Eventually I get placed in a tiny, windowless and bathroomless corner room in CDU.  The nurses are really busy and less than friendly.  (Later that night, I did end up in a nice room, with a private bathroom and a beautiful view.)  Eventually, my husband finds me and fills me on the surgery.  It took longer than expected.  He spent 2 hours working on me.  When it's an easy case and all goes perfectly it only takes about 20 minutes.  Most doctors would have cut me open but he didn't want to do that.  He knows I'm a runner and going to have enough issues dealing with all that happened.  He didn't want to make it worse on me.  I have a lot of scar tissue from when I had my ovary removed and it made it hard for him to see what he was doing.  Also, there is a layer of fat that is supposed to be over your bowels.  Mine  had adhered to my abdominal wall and was also blocking the view of my ovaries and tubes and working as a curtain.  He placed it back in the correct area.  It also turns out my pregnancy hormone level was at 7500 and not the 1-2000 as he'd expected.  The tube was ruptured in two place and anyone else would've been in the ER days earlier.  I had tons of blood in my abdomen.  I'm lucky it wasn't worse and that I had the u/s when I did.  Apparently, I have a high pain tolerance.  He did have to remove the tube.  The embryo was not viable but the placenta was still growing.  He believes he got everything but I will need to continue having blood tests until the levels get to 0.   I am also advised to not get pregnant naturally.  I'm at extremely high risk of this happening again and it could be worse next time.  He says, I should have no problems carrying a baby but need help getting it to my uterus.  He recommends fertility treatment and then having surgery to remove my other tube.  I was also told that it's no longer considered out patient surgery, due to it being more extensive and that I should stay the night so they can keep an eye on me and get my nausea and pain under control. 

This is all so crazy to me.  I finally get my my body where it doesn't attack a pregnancy to only end up here. 

I'm at a loss and a bit of an emotional wreck.  I'm so conflicted and terrified of slipping into a depression.  I've worked so hard to get to where I was.  These set-backs scare me.  Top all of this with the inability to work out for 2 weeks and no running for a month.  Even when I am allowed to come back, I have to do it minimally with a max of 50% of my norm.  The biggest issue with working out/running isn't the ground I will lose physically (though it is a concern)  but that it's how I stay sane.  It gives me clarity.  I've now decided to switch my marathon to a half.  This makes me sad but with all the challenges I've faced, I don't believe I can be marathon ready.  I'm sure I could complete it but not with it being fun.  I want it to be fun and a challenge.

So, I just keep laying here.  Wallowing in my self-pity without the emotional strength to even think of facing a day outside of bed.  I know, I'll over come this, I'm just scared of how far I will sink before I come back.  I am soo scared of falling back into the hole I was in before.  I keep telling myself I'm not that person any more and I am so much stronger.  I do feel stronger than the last time.  I also have more support.  I'm trying to accept this as normal grieving and necessary.  Hopefully, I come back stronger and braver than ever.  I never believed I could face another miscarriage and survive.  I faced something worse this time and I'm still here to write about it. Hopefully, some day I look back and gain strength from this struggle.

Believing in Myself

I've realized over the last few days that no matter how hard I am trying, a certain part of me still cares what people think. I don't care in the same way I used to but I care when it comes to having support. The other day I started looking into a potential new career. It is something that fits into where I am in my life and what I've been working toward. It is something that others approach me about and there is definitely a need for it in the area I live. When I approached some of my family about it I received ZERO support. The first person I told actually changed the subject as soon as I finished my inital spiel. I sat there staring, dumbfounded literally wondering WTF?

See, I NEED support. I NEED to know that someone thinks it's a good idea, that I would be good at it, that I could make a difference. If I don't have the support, I doubt myself. I know this shouldn't be the case but it is. Now, I've lost a little of my confidence but I'm still going to research this path and make the jump if I deem it worthy.

I also know believing in myself is key. Though I feel I need the outside support, I've got to support myself first. If I believe I can do this then I will. Life is full of potential but you'll never realize it if you don't make changes, face challenges and sometimes take a leap of faith.

Falling

Hey you!  Yeah you!  You over there ignoring me.  You over there with your nose stuck in your phone - living everyone else's life while yours is passing by.  You who forgets I'm here.  You who is so consumed that you haven't realized I'm slipping away.  Wake from your zombie state before it's too late.  I'm hanging by a frayed thread and I can feel myself falling - drifting away.

I'm succumbing to outside forces.  The forces that pull and tug at me.  The forces that see me and want me.  They don't need me.  They only know they feel a pull and are blindly allowing themselves to tumble forward. To place upon me the need I unwillingly reveal to the world.  My secret no longer safely hidden in the empty pocket of my heart.  It's written upon my face, upon the swell of my breast and the curve of hips.  It's oozing from me like an open wound.

Damn it all to Hell

I hate being negative. I hate opening that side of my life up for people to see. I hate that a certain person with their care and friendship keeps asking me about shit I don't want to talk about but apparently need to talk about. Everytime I'm asked I spew information like a faucet with a broken valve. After, I instantly feel quilt. I don't want to make my problems someone elses and I dont want to wear them down by constantly purging and dumping on them. I also don't want this person seeing me in this light and as anything other than strong. I hate displaying weakness and for this person to see me this way makes my heart ache. It makes me ache because I want to be strong, beautiful, sexy, loving, intelligent and brave. I don't mind having faults and can joke about them. I do mind looking weak and having someone's pity. That, I can not handle.

They are constantly looking for a way to help me but there is no outside help. I am only able to help myself. I know what needs to be done but am unable to go through the motions. Unfortunately, life is not simple and I am not ready to set these wheels in motion. It will create a chain of events that I am unprepared to face. It will effect areas more far reaching than I can even imagine. Everytime I think of it, I instantly become overwhelmed. I walk in a daze thinking of it all and if I could survive.

Survival, sounds somewhat overly dramatic. It is not, when speaking of my emotional state. At this time I know what to expect, know what will happen in my day-to-day. I am surviving. I may not be doing it in the healthiest of ways or making the best decisions but I've found my way of coping. I may be spinning out of control and lost my grip on reality in one area but I'm thriving in others. I've found a comfortable nook where I sit and observe the world. I watch it passing me and jump in and enjoy the roller coaster from time to time. I wear my mask and show the world what I want it to see. I focus on the areas where I have control and that make me happy. I embrace the joys and leave the tough shit simmering in the background. It'll still be there when I'm ready and able to face it.

Torn

Sitting here in the sun enjoying a beautiful afternoon but I'm torn.  As usual, I'm torn between what I should be doing and what I want to do.  This should come as no surprise as it's typical for how I've always lived my life.  I grew up with a certain way I was to be seen, act and believe.  There was no room for deviation and little tolerance for anything outside the considered norm.  We didn't talk about things considered private and I learned to navigate my way through life on my own. 

It was unfortunate that many times when I was torn between what was expected of me and what I wanted I went with what was expected.  When I did choose to go off the given path I was rather good at being discrete.  However, when my little rebellious streak really struck I gave it 100% and held my ground.  It was dumb and I learned a life lesson.  A lesson that changed my entire future.  I have no regrets and wouldn't change a thing.  But I do wonder what if I had made a different decision.  How would my life be now? 

I always wanted to be loved and showered with attention.  To know that I was the center of someone's universe.   As soon as I received that from a man I became like a sponge, soaking it up and longing for more.  Unfortunately, it wasn't something that lasted.  It would be easy to point out the reasons that he caused this failed relationship. But I'm here to focus on me and my biggest contribution was my inability to believe I deserved what I desired most.   How can one possible succeed if they believe the are unworthy and destined to fail?

I've always longed for attention.  Any kind of attention yet am embarrassed upon receipt.  I somehow never feel deserving and often think it to be some kind of joke and that my acceptance of it will be the punch line.  This is why I am unable to graciously accept a compliment and find it hard to give them.  At least those that are more than surface deep.

I realize this is a problem of mine and I'm working to rectify it.  I'm learning to just say thank you and not make a joke or down play it.  I'm learning to tell that little voice in my head to be quiet and to stop the negative talk.  I am learning to believe them.  I am me and me is enough.  Though I constantly work to improve myself, at this moment in time I AM ENOUGH.  Every time I repeat this I believe it a little more.

I'm a work in progress and I have my ups and downs.  I have my low self-esteem days and the days I think I'm bad ass.  There are days I wish to bare my soul and days where I feel it and my heart need to be protected because any hint of imperfection will destroy me. Today, today is a day where I'm willing to open myself to you and embrace you with all that I have.

One of those days

Today I'm feeling bitchy, bloated and lethargic. It's just one of those days. You know the ones... everything and everyone annoys you and you'd shoot them with lasers, from your eyes, if only you could. You'd curl up under the covers consuming comfort food with abandon while watching mind numbing television hoping no one had the nerve to walk in the room. Should they walk in the room you would shoot them with said lasers. I always have a day like this when it's close to THAT time of the month. Luckily, I've learned to recognize and accept it. Gone are the days where it would start a downward spiral of depression, self-critism and destruction. Now I embrace it as best I can and know it's only 24 hours of hell.

15 Years and Counting

15 years ago yesterday (yes, I'm a day late and a dollar short) I moved to this state of California.  I remember that day like it was...well...yesterday.  I was young, scared, and heartbroken.  I packed everything I could in two suitcases, had a $100 cash, got dropped off at the airport and headed into the unknown.  I'm pretty sure it was a memorable day for the guy that sat next to me on the plane.  I doubt he'll ever forget the crazy young woman who cried for over an hour, stared out the window and refused to speak.  Hey dude, if you're reading this...I'm doing great now!  

April 15 has become a day I celebrate and mourn each year.  I take some time to reflect and think about a lot of what if's.  This year however, I celebrated it by having a very special photo shoot.  I didn't exactly plan it this way but it worked out perfectly.  I've always been a bit of a control freak and a reserved person (unless there's vodka).  I've also relied heavily on what others think.  So stepping out of my comfort zone, letting my sexy shine, embracing me and giving up control was no easy task.  I like to think I did well at it and if the pictures prove anything - I did.  I've had body image issues all my life but to look at these pictures, all I can say is DAMN! Is this really me? 

   The photographer is amazing and I am thrilled to be photographed by her.  I intend to continue modeling with her.  I may be the one paying but it's worth every reasonable penny.  I've never felt so beautiful, sexy, powerful or accepted - to mention only a few key words.  Life is grand and beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  Love yourself and embrace all that life hands you. It's all part of what gets you to where you are going.