Entries Tagged 'expansion' ↓

I could be writing my Sin post, since I missed it yesterday. But I’ll leave that for next week and then hit two at the same time. Disappointed? Here’s basically what it’d come down to:

Envy – are you currently miscarrying? Nope? Envy you. Have in the past? Empathize but unless you’re batting 1 for 8, still envy you.

Gluttony – yes, I did spend grocery money so I could drink myself away from this feeling.

Greed – um. Well. I guess I’ve got nothing on that to be sarcastic about.

Sloth – Ends tomorrow since I no longer have an excuse to take ‘er easy.

Wrath – I’m all about the wrath. I mean, god, do you even know me?

Pride – I’ve got pride coming out the yin-yang about my intelligence. And that’s about it. Oh, also, my kid is smart and stuff.

Vanity – Um, I think I look like shit. ‘Nuff said. But my kid? A very cute mini Jim Carrey at the moment.

This is not a pity post, don’t get me wrong. I’m just feeling very honest and upfront and have been through the ringer in the past coupla days, so I’m sorry, but y’all are getting the resultant animosity/poorly worded prose.

I find it amazing. Some people are really in touch with their bodies. They can do a quick mental check and know something’s off. Me? My body’s really in touch with my mind. Here’s some examples:

I know it sucks to hear, but if I think I wanna lose weight, the next morning I wake up with a flat stomach. Yes, years of sticking my fingers down my throat and not much else has really helped in that aspect, but it’s funny still that instead of my metabolism slowing down and being in perpetual starvation mode a la some textbook, somewhere, I’ve got the ‘damn the man’ metabolism that allows me to drop 10 pounds in a few days. Doesn’t help issues, but is contentment-making.

If I think my headache might become a migraine, it does. I will invariably end up passed out on my bathroom floor after losing all of the bile in my body for two hours straight – about four hours after thinking, ‘god, I think this headache I’ve had for a year might be a migraine.’

Think I might be slipping into a manic phase? I do. Next thing you know, my house is itemized, I’m still awake at 4am and I’m drinking 10 cups of coffee a day.

What else? Well how about how everytime I get pregnant, as soon as I know, it starts killing me. Morning sickness, tiredness, back aches, low blood pressure, heart palpitations (oh, you didn’t know? I have a wrecked hear from the dieting dramas. Everytime I lose fast or gain fast, I have to prepare everyone around me for a potential heart attack – which would be my fourth.). It’s a joy.

And then there was last week, when someone asked me how the pregnancy’s feeling. And I flippantly replied, “like I’m not even pregnant.” Turns out that my body heard that, got in a time machine and made it so.

My hormone levels from the ER visit the other night? On par with 6-8 weeks gestation. My fetus? Non-existant. It never grew. It never was there. I’m not losing it.

I’m losing an empty egg sac.

Here’s one more example.

As soon as the ultrasound technician told me that’s what she saw, I thought, ’so I’m going to have a miscarriage.’ And I got all cleaned up and waited in the lobby of the hospital for a rockstar. That’s when the bleeding started.

So, excuse me while I go and bite on a leather belt cuz the cramps are making me want to curl up in a little teeny tiny ball. But in case you didn’t know? Mr. Lady, Giraffe Parade, Stargirl and Huckdoll are bitches you should be lucky to have in your life. I know I am. They took the time to drive downtown, call, email, say words like love. Just when I needed to hear it most.

PS – yes, I’m almost drunk.

PPS – JDawg is here after apologizing excessively and sincerely this morning. Currently passed out in a beer/wine haze. He’s been told that should this ever happen again, that’s it. No passing go.

K, so after I hit publish, there’s a 12 hour window before I pretend to forget about this, agreed? Good.

Some of you have been reading a whiles and you know about my history-o-baby-loss. Some even know that Isobel was a baby I was never supposed to be able to carry to term, never mind that she was born on her due date. So, especially with her and a lot with baby #2, I’ve been paranoid.

Petrified. Sure it was not going to happen.

Okay, that last one was more Isobel, but still, since I’ve been virtually symptomless this time around and had that killer flu three weeks back (can you say 102.9 degree fever?), I’ve been worried.

Convinced we’d go to listen to a heart beat for the first time and there’d be nothing. Convinced that every cramp was the beginning of a horrible death. At least until I figured out I’d just had to pee or had gas or something. Half sure that my back killing me for the last week has been the indicator that I should stop thinking names and start thinking alcohol again.

But, it, like most painfulish things, has also been getting ignored and not talked about and has lived in the recesses of my mind. Until I went to get a glass of water tonight and felt something.

It wasn’t blood. It was just not rightly coloured stuff. And there was a bunch of it.

And then I started freaking. And thank god Mr Lady was online to tell me to just go get it checked out, otherwise I’d have exploded in freaking outism at JDawg immediately and given his, uh, state, I don’t think it would have met with the right reaction from him. What ever that would have been. I suppose there’s no right reaction.

Almost as soon as I said, “Well, there’s a problem, I think, and Mr Lady said I should go so I don’t worry.” And started crying. He said, “You don’t think, do you? No, no way. It’s too late. No way. Didn’t this happen before? I remember it. Oh, no that was later, I remember now. Okay, go, if you need to go. We’ll be fine,” which was oddly kind of assuring.

So, I turned on the baby monitor to full blast and put it about two inches from where I knew his passed out head would be in three minutes and I cabbed it to the ER. And they saw me right away.

And if you live here, you know that does not ever happen, especially at St Paul’s, at nearly midnight, with all of the drug-seekers and cop abusers and methadone-less junkies and shizo-effective people off their meds littering the waiting rooms. So I was less comforted than I could have been, cuz UH, HELLO? They think I’m an emergency-emergency.

Waited for about 10 minutes in total between triage and meeting the doctor. He said it was rare, this late in the game – 11 weeks – but that my back pain could be indicative of something. He tried out the regular ultrasound, but I was too empty-bladdered and he was too non-ultrasound-inclined to see much more than the fact that I DO HAVE A UTERUS.

I have to go back for one of those lovely, invasive, cervix-scarring really sensitive ultrasounds. But they drew some blood. So my hormones will tell them something, most likely.

So now, I wait. For a call, fever, cramps, a tide of red emotional turmoil. To find out if this is a threat, I over did it walking today, there’s tubes being involved, or absofuckinglutely nothing at all.

Baby #2: this is your first time out. You get 1/12th of a minute for making mama feel something bad that an epidural is not immediately following.