Archive | January, 2011

I know you’re probably sick of it, but…

31 Jan

This song has been in my head for weeks.  Even though I feel like I’m still in the middle of my “dog days,” maybe if I adopt it as my mantra the concept will finally stick.  Despite being over-played on the radio (and, um, you know, that time it was on Glee): it’s a freaking really good song.  So if you’re not sick of it yet, put your volume the highest it will go, press play, and sing your loudest.  We’ll all pretend you sound just like her.

(Sara, wish we could sing it together again.  I think you should play this a lot this week.  Over and over.  Miss you.)

I touch my belly underwhelmed.

30 Jan

In high school, my best friend* was tall and thin and I was neither.  When we would hang out, I would eat exactly the same things she ate and continued to wonder why I never looked like her.  My hips were round, my belly even more so.  I was uncomfortable in my skin, always wanting to look like someone else – anyone but my curvy self.  In particular, it was my stomach that I concentrated on the most.  It flowed out over my pants as I sat and rounded out over the sides as I stood.  In college I took better care of myself by eating better and working-out regularly, but my stomach remained full.  When I would look in the mirror, my eyes would never see the curve of my neck or the strength in my legs, they would focus solely on my stomach, never measuring up to what I wanted it to be.

As an adult, the attention on my never-flat stomach has still not wained.  But today, I rest my hands on my stomach, and despite the curves below my fingers, it has never felt flatter.  As I move my hands, I can even swear it’s concave.  My hands disappear in it’s hollowness.

The life-long desire is gone.

These new eyes of mine now seek a belly in the mirror that doesn’t allow my pants to button.  My heart longs for a stomach that doesn’t just flow over my jeans, but protrudes so obviously over, no one will mistake it for a too-big blouse.  The roundness would no longer be my worst enemy.  It would be welcome and loved, even nourished.*  I suddenly want something that I have spent my entire life fighting away.  22 years reversed in a single year.

I have to believe my stomach won’t always be this flat.  That someday soon it will have a roundness the most beautiful I have ever seen.

A roundness I will praise my eyes for focusing on.

I’m trying my damnedest to believe this.

* She’s still my best friend and still just as beautiful as ever.  And just so you know, she never made me feel like that.  It was all my own doing.  Why are we such jerks to ourselves?

** and I will do my best to continue this frame of mind – in a healthful manner – long after I’ve become a mom.  It’s not just about the want of pregnancy, but about a healthy body image with or without child.  I want my daughter to embrace her inevitable curves [unlike her mother allowed herself to do] and I want my son to love a woman as she’s meant to be.  But right now, obviously, the only roundness I can focus on is that of a baby.  Not that I had to tell you that.

Still not better.

28 Jan

I was planning on writing something else today, finally something not related to the miscarriages; but of course, my friend finally told me himself and I tried my hardest to seem happy for him and his wife, but I failed miserably.  I hate not being able to find joy for those who deserve it.  I hate that more than anything.  It’s not me.  It’s me clouded by grief, and I don’t like that me very much.  And now I’m sitting here at work and the tears keep falling and I can’t think of anything else but my losses.  This is when I don’t like working for men.  These particular men are very understanding, but I know they can’t get it and I’ll just seem pathetic needing to go home because I can’t control my tears.  I hate this.

When is it going to stop?  How do the tears keep coming?  Some days I just don’t know how I’m ever going to get through this.  This week has been a hard week.  I’d like to say that I’m happy it’s over, but I don’t see it getting better in time for next week.

I don’t want to rush into anything, but…

27 Jan

Okay, fine.

Week: I forgive you.

I know, I know….we didn’t get off to a good start, did we?  But I think we can work this out.  I’m willing to give it another shot.  Whatd’ya say?

I took Mommy Odyssey‘s advice and today has been much improved.  It helped that when I got home last night, I put on my running shoes and went for a run with this guy:

And then I popped some of this just because I had it and I could:

And then of course, there were you guys.  You guys are my flowers and chocolates.  I am so moved by the women I am meeting through this.  If I have to go through this pain, you guys are a damn good consolation prize, you know?  You pulled me out of my bad day.  You gave me the strength when I didn’t have it.  You made me feel like I wasn’t alone.  Best of all: you offered chocolate!

You sure know a way to a woman’s heart, don’t you?

(Thank you.)

And yes, I’m totally in.

This week and I are no longer friends.

26 Jan

This morning I woke up to my period and just now found out a friend is pregnant (something I had to hear from someone else).

On the same day.

Can this also be something we’re exempt from?

Sometimes it is so hard to think of a damn title.

25 Jan

I had a very draining session of therapy last night.  I knew it was going to be like that days before I got there; I could feel the weight building up every day that passed prior.  During the session, it became apparent that the trip to North Carolina really forced me to realize I’m not as far along in this grief process as I’m trying to tell myself I am.  Getting out of my comfort zone by leaving for a week and being faced with things I’ve been hiding from for months was really difficult for me.  While I was there I kept noticing that I didn’t even recognize the voice coming out of my mouth any more.  The things I said just didn’t seem like they were coming from me.  I think I’ve just been so inside myself for so long that I’ve lost who I am in all of this.  I’ve been sitting beside myself for a year now, waiting (im)patiently before I can jump back in.

Last night at the session I cried as hard as I did that first night almost a year ago.  The entire day leading up to it, I was just trying to get to 5 o’clock, to when I could let it all out and not have to hold it in any more.  I cried so hard at one point I thought I was going to throw up.  My therapist’s office is the only place I am completely and unabashedly allowed to feel my pain.  It’s the only place I know I’m not being judged.  Not by anyone else, anyway.  It appears I still have to face myself, my biggest critic.  I just can’t seem to show myself the compassion I want so badly for others to show me.  Maybe if I can achieve that on my own, I won’t be seeking it so much from everyone else.  I just don’t know how to get there.  I’m still so angry and clouded by so much pain.

I hate more than anything that our society doesn’t let one grieve.  We’re not conditioned to it; we’re supposed to put on a smile and face the day, shove our problems under the rug and get on with life.  You are looked at as weak if you don’t get over it already.   And I feel that.  I’m so conscious of it and it fucking pisses me off.  That’s why all this weight builds up on me until I get to go to therapy and let it all out.  And then I come out of it so drained.  It’s exhausting.  This is all so exhausting.

By now you may have taken your first steps!

24 Jan

(For those of you from ICLW, I posted our TTC timeline on my about page if you’re interested.)

While I was adding our timeline (because I’m working really hard today at work), I realized today is Bodega Bliss’ 1st Birthday!  It started out as a pregnancy blog and turned into something I never imagined.  I can’t say I’m not pissed at the direction it went in, but it is what it is, you know?  In the process I’ve met some incredible people and I’m certainly not sorry for that.  For those of you that have been here since the beginning, thanks for sticking around through all the bitching and moaning and countless tears.  You’re the best!  And for those of you that just found me, you’re pretty swell yourself.  Welcome.

Happy Birthday, Bodega Bliss!  Let’s see if this year can be better, shall we?