Today I got my period for the first time since October 2010. It's a good sign I suppose, but I certainly didn't miss it.
I signed into Fertility Friend for the first time in forever. I don't think I'm going to do any serious charting this time around. I am definitely not interested in bothering with temping. But I will probably put in the stuff I happen to notice anyway, because why not?
For some reason I feel very weird about this.
Thứ Tư, 6 tháng 2, 2013
Thứ Ba, 5 tháng 2, 2013
Grief
My friend Jaime died yesterday.
Jaime was an amazing person. She knew what she wanted out of life. A husband, a house in the country, a beautiful kitchen, a baby, a garden and some chickens. She went out and got all of those things and she didn't wallow in comparisons or focus any of her energy on what anybody else had that she might be missing and she was just unapologetically HAPPY.
Jaime called me her "cheese wife." In some ways we were alternate universe versions of each other; so much in common, yet leading vastly different lives. We were pregnant together, sharing in that experience. Her daughter Katie was born just a month after Tycho. She made him a onesie once, with a rainbow unicorn and a cupcake on it. I sent Katie tiny pajamas with birds on them, because before Katie was born we knew her as "little bird." We she first got diagnosed with cancer she got a fabulous pixie cut. I admired and envied it, and she convinced me to get one too.
My friend Jaime died yesterday.
That's what I said at least. Jaime was a part of an online community of women, who I sometimes collectively call my imaginary friends; I've never actually met her in "real life," whatever that means. But she was my friend as much as anyone is my friend. I'm dropping the "imaginary" so that people better understand my grief. She is real to me.
Jaime was never supposed to be imaginary forever, anyway. We were constantly discussing opportunities to visit. When we found out she had cancer I started making more serious plans. Just a couple weeks ago, when the prognosis was six months, maybe more, we decided on the spring, probably May. And when things got worse, I vowed to go down right after we got back from Mexico, since I had already asked for a couple extra days off.
But she died yesterday, and I never got to see her beyond the screen. I never got to give her a hug. We never got to sit in the sun, eating rich foods and drinking wine. That is without a doubt what we would have done. We never got to see our babies play together. We never got to build a friendship that I won't have to justify to anyone. I never got to say goodbye.
She was just 33 years old. And only two months from her first cancer diagnosis to passing. When she found out she was sick, and that it was terminal, she was accepting, she was strong, she just wanted more time with her daughter. A year, maybe two, please, to see her little girl grow up, to make more memories. These past few weeks all I can think is that I just wish I could take a year off the end of my likely long and boring life and give it to her right now, so she could spend just a little more time raising her daughter and loving her husband.
I am just devastated. I am exhausted from crying, from mourning. My heart is breaking for her daughter, who will grow up not knowing her amazing mother, and for her husband who has lost his love, his wife, his best friend, and become a single father all in one day. And also for our community of imaginary friends. We are brought to our knees by this tragedy. We are all still so young; none of us are prepared for this loss.
My friend Jaime died yesterday.
It still hasn't completely sunk in, the permanence, that I will never talk to her again, that we won't get to meet like we both so badly wanted.
I bought a plane ticket today. I'm going to her funeral in San Francisco on Saturday. Maybe it is silly to blow so much money on this trip to see her dead, when I never was able to make it when she was living. Maybe, but sitting here in my anger and grief, doing nothing seems impossible. And something I can do is be present for her, and for her family, one more reminder of how fiercely she is loved. And I'll be making other imaginary friends real on this trip, and we can hold and support each other through this impossible time.
My friend Jaime died yesterday. I am not okay.
Jaime was an amazing person. She knew what she wanted out of life. A husband, a house in the country, a beautiful kitchen, a baby, a garden and some chickens. She went out and got all of those things and she didn't wallow in comparisons or focus any of her energy on what anybody else had that she might be missing and she was just unapologetically HAPPY.
Jaime called me her "cheese wife." In some ways we were alternate universe versions of each other; so much in common, yet leading vastly different lives. We were pregnant together, sharing in that experience. Her daughter Katie was born just a month after Tycho. She made him a onesie once, with a rainbow unicorn and a cupcake on it. I sent Katie tiny pajamas with birds on them, because before Katie was born we knew her as "little bird." We she first got diagnosed with cancer she got a fabulous pixie cut. I admired and envied it, and she convinced me to get one too.
My friend Jaime died yesterday.
That's what I said at least. Jaime was a part of an online community of women, who I sometimes collectively call my imaginary friends; I've never actually met her in "real life," whatever that means. But she was my friend as much as anyone is my friend. I'm dropping the "imaginary" so that people better understand my grief. She is real to me.
Jaime was never supposed to be imaginary forever, anyway. We were constantly discussing opportunities to visit. When we found out she had cancer I started making more serious plans. Just a couple weeks ago, when the prognosis was six months, maybe more, we decided on the spring, probably May. And when things got worse, I vowed to go down right after we got back from Mexico, since I had already asked for a couple extra days off.
But she died yesterday, and I never got to see her beyond the screen. I never got to give her a hug. We never got to sit in the sun, eating rich foods and drinking wine. That is without a doubt what we would have done. We never got to see our babies play together. We never got to build a friendship that I won't have to justify to anyone. I never got to say goodbye.
She was just 33 years old. And only two months from her first cancer diagnosis to passing. When she found out she was sick, and that it was terminal, she was accepting, she was strong, she just wanted more time with her daughter. A year, maybe two, please, to see her little girl grow up, to make more memories. These past few weeks all I can think is that I just wish I could take a year off the end of my likely long and boring life and give it to her right now, so she could spend just a little more time raising her daughter and loving her husband.
I am just devastated. I am exhausted from crying, from mourning. My heart is breaking for her daughter, who will grow up not knowing her amazing mother, and for her husband who has lost his love, his wife, his best friend, and become a single father all in one day. And also for our community of imaginary friends. We are brought to our knees by this tragedy. We are all still so young; none of us are prepared for this loss.
My friend Jaime died yesterday.
It still hasn't completely sunk in, the permanence, that I will never talk to her again, that we won't get to meet like we both so badly wanted.
I bought a plane ticket today. I'm going to her funeral in San Francisco on Saturday. Maybe it is silly to blow so much money on this trip to see her dead, when I never was able to make it when she was living. Maybe, but sitting here in my anger and grief, doing nothing seems impossible. And something I can do is be present for her, and for her family, one more reminder of how fiercely she is loved. And I'll be making other imaginary friends real on this trip, and we can hold and support each other through this impossible time.
My friend Jaime died yesterday. I am not okay.
Thứ Tư, 30 tháng 1, 2013
Volume 2, Chapter 1
"You are no longer protected against pregnancy."
Okay, let's let that sink in for a little while.
Okay, let's let that sink in for a little while.
Thứ Ba, 29 tháng 1, 2013
Thứ Năm, 24 tháng 1, 2013
The Simple Life
If every day was like today I might consider the whole stay-at-home-mom gig. I mean, not really, since it's not a financially feasible thing for us right now, and every day is not like today anyway, but really, today was simply blissful.
I got myself up early, on my day off, and dragged myself to yoga. It's been a long time since I've been to class regularly, but I need to carve out some time to myself, so I've been going to class at a studio just down the street and it's been lovely. This morning's practice was, in a word, beautiful. Joyful, even, and you could feel it radiating out of everyone in the room. I needed this. I'm in perfectly reasonable shape, thanks to my job, but my muscles are so tight, and I need the opportunity for relaxation and meditation and slowness and deep breaths. My unofficial new years' resolution, I suppose, is then to get to class twice a week. I think it's doable.
It was a beautiful clear day today, after a week of thick fog, and then finally rain yesterday, so Tycho and I took a walk to get brunch. Tycho walked the whole 3/4 mile without me having to carry him, except for across a couple streets. He stopped to look at every bird and truck and smiled at everyone we passed. Kyle met us at the restaurant. Food was delicious. I had a mimosa.
When he napped this afternoon I tidied and vacuumed and assembled our new dining room furniture that has been sitting in boxes in the garage for weeks now. I'm slowly (slowly!) but surely turning our house into a home and these bright yellow chairs bring so much happiness into this space.
In between all these things I let myself really be present with my kid. It's hard to do sometimes, when there's so much to get done or I just need a break or I can't pull myself away from the inanities of facebook, but I spent most of the afternoon down on the floor with him wrestling and cuddling and reading and giggling and it was just what I needed.
He went to bed easily tonight, and I am enjoying my alone time. Some music, a fire, chocolate, the internet. And another day off with my babyman tomorrow! This is happiness.
He went to bed easily tonight, and I am enjoying my alone time. Some music, a fire, chocolate, the internet. And another day off with my babyman tomorrow! This is happiness.
Thứ Bảy, 19 tháng 1, 2013
It's Time
Last time, things went something like this: First I got the baby fever, and I got it bad. BAD. Like, it kept me awake at night, and daydreaming during the day. I could not stop thinking about what it would be like to be pregnant, how I would feel when I saw those two pink lines, how I would fall in love with my little bundle of joy. It consumed me. But it wasn't time yet and I knew it so I just immersed myself in imagining.
Step two, I realized that babymaking for real wasn't that far off. And it freaked me the hell out. And I took a step away from the obsessing and the daydreaming because it was becoming too much for me and frankly I was scared.
And then finally three. One day, like someone flipped a switch, all of the sudden I was READY. NOW. And I couldn't wait a single second longer, I don't CARE what we agreed upon I HAVE TO do this. Fortunately Kyle seemed to understand the weight of the MUST I was feeling, and wisely didn't argue.
This time around has been a little different.
Stage one this time, was complete disbelief that I would ever be ready or want to do this again, ever. EVER. I felt like it was easy to go in to birth with a positive attitude; I knew it was going to be hard but I didn't know really what I was getting myself into, and there was no way after experiencing THAT I'd be able to do it again. And how exhausting Tycho was and we'd never be ready to juggle TWO, and ARE YOU CRAZY?
Before Tycho was born, before he was even, as my parents would say, a twinkle in my eye, Kyle and I agreed that we wanted at least two children, probably two to three years apart. It sounded reasonable. It SOUNDS reasonable. But when October rolled around I realized that if we wanted our kids two years apart we'd have to get pregnant right then. No. No no no no no no no NO. It was all either Kyle or I could think. NO. NOT READY. NO.
But then the NO faded almost as quickly as it came, and suddenly I'm back to the daydreaming and imagining and all the possibility and someday and feeeeeeeeelings. Still not ready, but WHAT IF, you know. And all that.
And then a couple weeks ago my switch got flipped again. It's different this time. My life is too full now to be so dominated by NEEDING to do this. But all of the sudden two doesn't scare me. I know, I KNOW, that it is time. It's a weird sort of calm I am in. Just kind of "bring it on, universe!" It's strange how it is this discrete jump from daydream to reality. I'm ready.
Step two, I realized that babymaking for real wasn't that far off. And it freaked me the hell out. And I took a step away from the obsessing and the daydreaming because it was becoming too much for me and frankly I was scared.
And then finally three. One day, like someone flipped a switch, all of the sudden I was READY. NOW. And I couldn't wait a single second longer, I don't CARE what we agreed upon I HAVE TO do this. Fortunately Kyle seemed to understand the weight of the MUST I was feeling, and wisely didn't argue.
This time around has been a little different.
Stage one this time, was complete disbelief that I would ever be ready or want to do this again, ever. EVER. I felt like it was easy to go in to birth with a positive attitude; I knew it was going to be hard but I didn't know really what I was getting myself into, and there was no way after experiencing THAT I'd be able to do it again. And how exhausting Tycho was and we'd never be ready to juggle TWO, and ARE YOU CRAZY?
Before Tycho was born, before he was even, as my parents would say, a twinkle in my eye, Kyle and I agreed that we wanted at least two children, probably two to three years apart. It sounded reasonable. It SOUNDS reasonable. But when October rolled around I realized that if we wanted our kids two years apart we'd have to get pregnant right then. No. No no no no no no no NO. It was all either Kyle or I could think. NO. NOT READY. NO.
But then the NO faded almost as quickly as it came, and suddenly I'm back to the daydreaming and imagining and all the possibility and someday and feeeeeeeeelings. Still not ready, but WHAT IF, you know. And all that.
And then a couple weeks ago my switch got flipped again. It's different this time. My life is too full now to be so dominated by NEEDING to do this. But all of the sudden two doesn't scare me. I know, I KNOW, that it is time. It's a weird sort of calm I am in. Just kind of "bring it on, universe!" It's strange how it is this discrete jump from daydream to reality. I'm ready.
Thứ Sáu, 18 tháng 1, 2013
Weaning
Weaning is going... well? I guess I expected it to be a terrible fight, lots of tantrums, and nothing! We nurse twice a day, sometimes only once, and it's not really even been hard. He asks sometimes, but usually I can redirect without too much trouble, or give him a cup of cow's milk or water. Sometimes it's a little bit of a fight, usually before nap time, though, when everything is a fight.
Being that this is easier than I thought it would be I'm seriously considering weaning him for good when Kyle and I leave him with my mom and go to Mexico next month. I feel a little sad about that, but at the same time, I also want to have another baby and I don't want to nurse again, so this trip would be really great timing... I guess we'll have to see how things are going when the time comes.
Little baby dude is growing up. Sigh.
Being that this is easier than I thought it would be I'm seriously considering weaning him for good when Kyle and I leave him with my mom and go to Mexico next month. I feel a little sad about that, but at the same time, I also want to have another baby and I don't want to nurse again, so this trip would be really great timing... I guess we'll have to see how things are going when the time comes.
Little baby dude is growing up. Sigh.
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