Tuesday, September 29, 2009


Last night's dream started out awesome. I mean awesome. One minute I was getting free samples of some fabulous fudge from a market stand - every flavor you could imagine - and casually chatting with the owner (random). The next I was making out with Da.mon Al.barn from Blur (beyond random, but I'm not complaining.) And when I say making out, that is a totally PG version of the R-rated goodness that was really going down. In the midst of swapping spit, he stops and just looks at me. Contemplating.

"What? What's up?"

"Oh nothing. I just forgot how, how large you actually are."


Way to bust my bubble, dude. Sure, we resume our lip lock. But it's not the same. Just not the same...

Not sure where to go with this. Sure, I've been beating myself up for not getting out and moving more, finding myself literally talking myself out of going to the gym as I have bag in hand, especially since my little motivational burst a week or so ago. But when that motivational burst is immediately followed by at least a 3-lb weight gain, it's kinda hard to stay focused, 'know'I'mean?

No new cycle has started yet, but should soon. But when? When? Obviously, it makes a ton of sense for me to exercise NOW, while I can. Start stuffing M. with nuts and seeds before a drop date is scheduled....

Am I really going into this with so little hope? Am I just convinced that whatever I/we do won't make a difference? Will my attitude shift once there are real dates? Real benchmarks to reach? Is the abstract all too much for me right now?

I have this little journal - more like a random compilation of To Do lists, notes and reminders. And in it, every few pages or so, it seems I have a new list. Yoga! Run! Prenatals! Eat right! Exercise! Get your Mind Right! It's like, if I keep writing it on a new page, one day it will stick. Sometimes it does - at least enough to get one or two items checked off in a day. But not enough.

But enough for what?

Oh Da.mon. Way to be a dick.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Into the Water

On Friday, I decided that I needed to go for a swim. A long, exhausting swim. I remembered that I swam a LOT right after Isa and Jovi died. And it always soothed me. If nothing else, it made me so tired that I couldn't focus on the grief and the anger and the injustice of it all. I remembered that it made me feel like I was healing. And last week, it felt like some wounds had been reopened and could use some salve.

This morning I woke up and my back and shoulders were sore. Oh gosh, am I that stressed? No. NO. I remembered that that is what if feels like when you work muscles that have been stagnant too long. And I relished the soreness.

This morning, I glanced at Face.book. Because love it or hate it, I can't resist checking in now and then, and I saw this update from my friend H.
The morning is crisp and promising, and I'm excited for a day of breadbaking, teriyaki and grilled pineapple, loud music and a vintage apron, cocktails and company.

And smiled because it is so vintage H. And as I was envisioning H. in her apron up to her elbows in flour, sipping a cocktail, trying to decide which music to play for her company, I realized that, you know what, like all of us, H. has had a handful of really shitty things happen to her in her life. Things that have absolutely shaped the beautiful person she is now.

But those aren't the things she talks about. Those aren't the pieces of her that she shares with anyone who will listen. She'd rather tell you about the recipe she just tried, or the perfect campsite her and her husband just found, or the moment of quiet reflection she enjoyed the other morning on her little porch. Those are the things she wants you to know about her. Because they give her joy.

I need to be more like H.

I need to remember to share the good days along with the messy ones with you here. Because there definitely are some. Even when there aren't full days, there are moments. And what more do we have, really, than a collection of moments?

This afternoon, I dropped M. off at his parents and see that I have most of the day to myself. A beautiful, sunny almost-autumn day. And I will not spend it wallowing in a "this time last year...." funk. I will put a load in the laundry, take out the trash, grab my bag and head to the gym. Do I brave the crowded riverfront for a run or do I want the comfort of the treadmill? Either way, I will slide into the water when I'm done. And swim myself sore. And with each stroke, I'll reflect on some of the many, many questions I threw down here the other week like a gauntlet to myself:
How many times do I have to say "My heart is open for what comes next" until I believe it?
As many times as it takes.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

I Don't Need a "Walk" to "Remember"

Dear ________ Hospital,

So please take your invitation and shove it up your ass. I really did not need to remember the moments leading up to the death of my children. But now they are playing in a continuous loop in my brain. Nonstop. I would rather not have been reminded that you ignored our pleas, stuck us in an observation cubicle for HOURS after the midwife said don't WORRY, failed to contact ANY doctor until my husband screamed that he refused to have his babies born in a hallway.

I didn't need to recall that the care we received didn't begin until death was a foregone conclusion.

Did you really want me to Remember that we blame you? But not as much as I blame myself.

The coup de grace was the handwritten note from the hospital's grief counselor. Did you know she's been "thinking of" us and our family? Really? That's so interesting. I never would have known since this is your first contact with us in almost a year. Tell you what, don't even worry about it.

I am so filled with hate and anger this morning, I am not sure how I am going to function. But I have to. I made M promise to call me when he gets into the office because I don't trust he can either. But he has to.

And this is how we live these days.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

So Much to Say

So little time. Seriously. Not enough hours in the day. M hates when anyone says that (so, uh, don't snitch on me).

Will try to blog properly (is that an oxymoron) later tonight. After work. After the happy hour I promised M I would take him too. After I watch the SEASON PREMIERE of Gossip Girl that I didn't even have time to watch last night.

Those of you that know me should be going, "whoa. ok. she must be serious..." and rightfully so. Who misses GG without a reason. I mean, really?

All is well. If not well right now at this moment, it WILL be well. I am willing it to be well. And I am strong willed.

Ok, see, this is why I'm not blogging right now. Because I'm not making sense.

Will talk more later. Promise.

Monday, September 7, 2009

In No Particular Order

  • How are we ever going to find a house if nothing I see is bigger/nicer/better than the apartment we rent now?
  • Does searching for a house now make sense, or is it completely ridiculous? Does waiting to see whether or not a child is in the future seem more prudent, or does it relegate yet one more aspect of our lives into that "wait and see" category thereby stunting any development? Keeping it static and unknown?
  • Do I even want a house? If so, why? (note: so I can have a place to store a real kayak is not an adequate response)
  • What is so wrong with renting? Particularly if the rental property is quite tony if I do say so myself?
  • How will I reinvent my creation myth if/when I find that I have nothing in common with my birth father? When I confirm that he is far more similar to my adopted parents than I ever would have expected?
  • Where did I come from?
  • When will M. shake this constant state of anxiety he has placed himself in? Will it fade once his boss returns from her ill-timed honeymoon, or has he made the conscious choice to engulf himself in work indefinitely since "it's all I got."
  • Does planning your wedding/honeymoon to coincide with the busiest time of the year at your office make you: a.) selfish b.) clueless c.) brilliant? Discuss.
  • Will our next IVF cycle ever happen? When?
  • Am I truly this unhappy in my current workplace, or have I created a scapegoat for other issues?
  • Is my "one year plan" to pull myself out of my boss' (very, very large and imposing) shadow sensible and long-awaited, or terribly ill-timed and irrational?
  • Can I live with being in the exact same place/position/role 10 years from now? If so, then staying will be fine.
  • Why have I waited so long to question her authority? (answer: because I am lazy)
  • Why have I not reached out to a.) a potential surrogate b.) the grief counselor I said I would find c.) the life/career coach my colleague highly recommended?
  • am I "getting the most out of" this cycle-free time or am I simply not taking care of myself? Does this make me feel better/worse? Discuss.
  • Does a bottle of wine a night between two healthy, able-bodied adults seem excessive to non-Americans? Why do I feel slightly guilty for this habit?
  • If I care so little about my current job, why am I working on Labor Day? (answer: because there are some people there that I DO care about very much and to not would leave them in the lurch when I go to Delaware later this week to see my parents.)
  • How, exactly, do I plan to tell my parents that I have found my birth father, spoken to him twice, and plan to see him, his sister and his mother in November?
  • How weird is it that I think my birth father and my brother could be best friends?
  • How should I tell my brother about finding my birth father? Should I? (yes. I think yes.) Should I do this before or after I tell my parents?
  • Why is it that I think finding my birth father will bring me closer to my adopted parents rather than what they fear? How will I allay those fears?
  • Why am I suddenly feeling so defensive about my birth father? My adopted parents?
  • When did I phase into this latest phase of grief - the one where images and emotions from the past seem to jump out and into my mind seemingly out of nowhere and then disappear just as fast? They are nightmare visions, clear as day, and feel as if I have been punched, or like I wasn't watching where I was going and walked into a wall. They are unsettling and disturbing and I don't quit know what to make of it all. Sometimes it is an image, another time a realization.
  • I cannot reminisce about my pregnancy. Right now, I have been trying to block out harder than ever the "this time last year" thoughts since last September was truly bliss. And this is so not. Is this avoidance healthy, or simply prolonging a full-on melt-down?
  • Why haven't I called a grief counselor? What am I waiting for? Is it because I feel fine right now? Do I realize I do not have to be in the midst of a crisis before I reach out to find help I need?
  • Why is it so hard for me to reach out?
  • Why do I have to be so fucking independent? Is independent simply a euphemism for an uglier word? What would that word be?
  • Why do I wince when my birth father calls me "baby"?
  • Why do I see allowing someone to love me as losing or giving up something as opposed to gaining? Is this the issue?
  • How many times do I have to say "My heart is open for what comes next" until I believe it?