Social Lies and Omissions

I'm fairly open about myself. I developed this trait when I flunked out of college for a semester, back in 1995. People would ask about school (mainly why I wasn't there), and I'd just tell them the truth. It was a little embarrassing, but it got easier with the telling. Granted, I didn't always tell the entire story about why and how I got put on Academic Suspension; it wasn't always relevant to the conversation, and was usually more than the person needed to know.

These days, I'm still fairly open about myself. I gladly announce my strengths and shortcomings, for the most part. I'm all over the internet, too, so there's no hiding from people who want to know all about me. (I know there are one or two people from work who check my blog and Twitter and Flickr on occasion, and I've come to be OK with that.)

There's a line, though, when it comes to casual social interaction. For instance: when I use the phrase, "once we have a kid," or, "someday, when we procreate," or whatever witty way I put it, one of the standard responses is, "Oh, are you thinking about trying for a kid?"

Normally, a standard answer from your average married thirty-something would be a casual nod and a smile, and perhaps a vague timeline — once so-and-so finishes school, or maybe this Fall, or even a secret admission that the person is indeed actively trying to conceive.

From me, though, you'll likely get a stiff attempt at a casual nod and a "We're thinking about it." That's because, every time someone asks, I think about the fact that I miscarried my first pregnancy at 10 weeks, and that Aaron and I could have been parents of a toddler right now. Then I realize that no one wants me to mention the worst day of my life in casual conversation — especially me — and I omit that detail and move on.

Never mind the fact that, no, we're not necessarily thinking about trying for a kid again. The jury's still out on that.

When my close friends ask me about my miscarriage, I answer. We discuss. It's cathartic, I think. But when people who didn't know me three years ago ask me about my family plans, I almost feel like I'm committing a social lie by not telling the whole truth, even though I know that's the last thing they want me to tell them at that moment.

The omission is just as much for my comfort as theirs, though. I'm not exaggerating when I say it was the worst day of my life. Reliving it isn't at the top of my to-do list.

So I'll stop now.

The Quest For Inbox:Zero

My modus operandi with e-mail is to leave "pending" items in my inbox, then file them when I've done whatever it is that needs to be done with them. Reply to them, take action on them, whatever. While that works out well at my job, it only plays to my procrastinating tendencies at home, leading me to have e-mails in my inbox from literally five years ago.

It's fun interesting looking back at some of the stuff I'd intended to blog, but never got around to it, being that some of it ended up being mildly prescient / prophetic:

Fri 15 Dec 2006 | 4:47 PM

I’m not one to fall into the trap of blogging about specifics at work. Suffice to say that I have evidence that the high turnover rate in my department of late is likely to continue in the future. Our previous clockwork vibe is long gone, co-workers are complaining about one another, and our supervisor and her actions are unpopular in certain circles. The few people who have the best interests of the department in mind (myself included) are quickly moving toward just doing our jobs and the extra mile be damned.

Fri 29 Dec 2006 | 4:49 PM

I figured out last night why I'm so stressed about the possibility of losing this pregnancy. There will never be another individual exactly like this little one that's brewing right now. Even though it can't yet see, or hear, and doesn't even really have opposable thumbs yet, it has the potential to be a unique human being. If it doesn't make it, it's not only a child I wouldn't get to raise, but it's a person who wouldn't exist. It's like some weird wersion of It's A Wonderful Life or a Richard Bach story, thinking of all the people who haven't existed due to miscarriage or abortion. Who knows what potential leaders or philanthropists were never born, but were, in fact, meant to be?

Then, there are some slightly more recent almost-blogs that are more applicable to my life as it is today:

Mon 19 Nov 2007 | 4:21 PM

[My old job] vs. [my new job] is like marching band vs. drum corps - no one is here who doesn’t want to be here. Everyone is all business.

Also? Seniority is directly related to a person’s proximity to a window. At least in my dept.

(Incidentally? I will shortly be moving to a cube two spots closer to the window, after a year and change.)

Finally, there are some random goodies that are fun any day of the week:

Mon 27 Aug 2007 | 3:45 PM

[Heard at work:] "...teach them their prayers." Does God not listen to you unless you know the magic words? Mormons learn God's secret handshake in the temple, though, and that's no less ridiculous.

Fri 27 Jun 2008 | 11:30 AM

From a DBA [database administrator] at work, about a debacle he helped create: "Bah. That's part of the job. They just misspell it: should be DBAcle."

I still have about 80 e-mails in my inbox, dating back to January 2005 (the oldest ones are from genealogists and possible distant cousins looking to share research). Considering that I was way over 100 last week, I'm well on my way to zero.

Family Planning

It's been coming up more than usual lately, and in multiple places. I've been catching (and voluntarily watching) more of the maternity and childbirth-related shows on the Discovery Health Channel. On the one-year anniversary of my "new" job, my Mom reminded me that now I'm eligible for family leave. Aaron and I talked about it over sushi a couple weekends ago. And now Dooce is pregnant with her second child. Not only that, but after doing a little math, I figured out that, when she announced her latest pregnancy on her blog, she was right about at the place in hers that I was when in mine I had the worst damn experience of my life.

Whenever I write about that experience, it seems like I really dance around the subject. I don't often use the word "miscarriage," or say that "I lost the baby," but will instead refer to the emotions that surrounded that terrible weekend. You'd think that, almost two years after the fact, it wouldn't be such a tender subject. But it is.

Anyway.

Despite the fact that I can't get excited about subjecting myself to the possibility of that kind of tragic letdown again, it's something that we'll need to be thinking about relatively soon. We still have a few years yet before we need to really get on the ball, though. I'm 32½ right now — I'll be 33 in April. We won't be dipping into the *really* not-so-fresh ova until, say, the beginning of the next presidential campaign.

There are some things around the house that, if we're going to get them done, will need to be done before we procreate. Like painting, and getting new carpet and flooring, and replacing the window in the green bedroom (a.k.a. the cat's room, and someday to be Junior's room). Other things, like getting the leak in the tub fixed and installing a new bathroom faucet and replacing the garage door, those things could potentially be done with a small human being in residence, but the cash flow we have now may no longer be in effect. There are also some personal habits of mine that will need to change, like my housekeeping, and my health and hygiene (e.g. I'm way overdue for a trip to the dentist). I also want to reach my goal weight (about 20 more pounds to lose) before going and getting pregnant.

When I contemplate this laundry list of pre-partum to-dos, it occurs to me that we might just be stalling. Finding reasons not to try again just yet. That's a completely reasonable reaction, I think, for several reasons. Neither of us want to be in a place in our lives where we resent having had a child too soon, before we could discover who we were and experience the world and do the things we wanted to do. I don't want to be driving the family minivan to soccer practice in another ten or fifteen years asking, "What if...?"

That goes both ways, though. I also don't want to someday find myself pre-menopausal, without a child of my own, wondering what it would have been like to be a Mom.

Sometimes I feel like I'm too passive to be a Mom. Not responsible enough. Not selfless enough. But, every now and then, something comes up — say, Aaron turns pasty-white and clammy in the middle of a gaggle of people at the Ren Fair and needs to sit down before he falls down — and Responsibility Mode kicks in. And I'm reminded that I do have some innate something-or-other that can take hold when I need it to.

I've been easing myself back into the idea. The concept that the experience might actually be as joyous and fulfilling as people claim is starting to seem realistic to me.

But please pardon me if I remain stand-offish and skeptical for a while longer.

Still Too Close To The Surface

Read a blog entry about abortion today, written by a pro-choice advocate. Chose to write a comment in response.

Received an e-mail from the one friend I hadn't told about my miscarriage yet. Chose to write a friggin' novel in response.

I hadn't realized this shit was still so fresh in my mind. I've been emotionally KO'd all evening. Didn't get much accomplished besides playing some Civ IV.

Now it's time to start getting ready for bed, and I have no idea what I'm making for lunch tomorrow, which is bad. I don't really want to put my lunch together before I go to bed, which is worse. God knows what I'll end up throwing into my lunch koozie tomorrow morning...

I know that these things smooth themselves over as time passes. I just wonder how long I'll have these random days of sadness in the middle of being perfectly OK.

Better Than Yesterday

Not as preoccupied. Can count on only one hand the number of times my day came to a grinding halt and I stared off into space in sorrowful contemplation. Smiled. Laughed. Am eating and sleeping fine. Made it through the follow-up consult with my OBGYN with no problems. Discussed future baby-take-two plans with Mom over the phone.

Still feeling odd about finally feeling like myself again.

I feel weird about feeling almost OK. I'm sure it's only temporary.

Not-So-Tiny Tragedy

All the associated magazines and freebies and bills and other accoutrements have been tucked away into a corner, as if the "out of sight, out of mind" methodology will work on this.

Not like I'm not reminded by every commercial, every slip of the tongue, every time one of my pregnant co-workers walks by. Not like I don't zone out and think about it, instead of successfully getting back into the daily grind.

The logical part of my mind, the part that's usually in control of how I live my life and how I present myself to others, says that grief is stupid. It's more useless than even regret, because at least, with regret, you have the opportunity to learn something and make changes in the future. Grief... it's like constantly reminding yourself that this situation sucks, and that there's nothing to be done.

The emotive part of my mind has been held in check for far too long — years, in fact — and threatens to take off with the rest of me.

I feel alone. No, not alone, because Aaron's feeling quite the same way I am, although he's trying to be strong for me. I feel... empty. I'm alone in my own skin again, and I'm not sure how to react to that, especially after having just gotten used to being someone's... home?

I tell myself, at least it wasn't really self-aware yet. Or even conscious. Not yet able to hear, or see, or feel. Still, it doesn't help. To see it grow from a barely discernable blob with a heartbeat to a small human being with wriggling arms and legs — then to see it lying horrifically still and lifeless, displayed on a monochrome monitor in a darkened room, as the poor ultrasound technician tried every possible way to find a heartbeat...

This is probably the single most gut-wrenching experience I've ever been through. Maybe that's a testament to how lucky I've been in the past 30 years.

I'll miss you.

Experiences In Birthing

Being that we're actively trying to conceive, I've been searching around teh internets a lot lately about, well, having babies. Not just having them, mind you, but HAVING them. Like, how does one successfully pass a bowling ball through one's hoodie-hoo?

I came across an interesting set of photos by snowdeal (a.k.a. Eric Snowdeal III, father of internet-renowned micro-preemie Eric Snowdeal IV). This subject of this set was his... sister? sister-in-law? At any rate, it was of a home birth. It hadn't occurred to me that a home birth could be more like a holiday or a family gathering than a private moment with one's partner and one's doula and/or midwife. But, sure enough, here was a woman inviting her family and friends into her home to hang out while she had contractions and watch as she gave birth to her daughter.

Watch.

Y'know, I love you all, but I don't know how comfortable I'd be with you all in my living room, seeing me squat down and produce the miracle of life right there before you. I think that takes a certain kind of person with a certain kind of social network. And even my closest friends — Amy, Sheryl, even my Mom — I don't know how comfortable I'd be with you guys RIGHT THERE watching my first delivery. Afterward, sure, come visit and meet Diana Junior. But during the process? I dunno.

There are so many options... home birthing (which I don't think I'm down with, even without the party), water birthing, hypnobirthing, lying down or squatting or reclining... I'm looking forward to eventually sitting down with a medical practicioner and finding out what the options are. And what Aetna will pay for. I'm guessing I'll be getting the standard Delivery Room, bright surgical lights, lots of strangers staring at my crotch, doctor not even there yet, WTF is going on right now kind of dance that is my impression of what The Big Day must be like.

Of course, I have no idea what any of this is really like. And I'm NOT asking my Mom until we're at T-minus nine months and counting.

It's Thursday

It's been a few days since I wrote, so I figured I should spout off a few paragraphs before I turn in.

There's this woman at work who's pregnant — hold on, let me stop there. First off: is anyone else weirded out by calling your peers "women"? I mean, yeah, that's what they are. Late 20's, early 30's... you're not a girl anymore. You're a woman. I'd rather call my female peers "chicks," but some of them might not take kindly to that. And using the term "lady" is kind of weird, too. "Lady" always has the connotation of "bitch" somewhere in my mind. Like, "Hey, lady, get outta the way!" You know.

ANYway. There's a chick at work who's pregnant. There are a lot of them, actually, but I'm thinking of one in particular who's got a personality that jives with mine. Irreverent, cool, blunt, and totally floored that she got knocked up by her boyfriend. I mean, no one thought of her as the motherly type before — not even herself.

She had her first ultrasound this week, and brought in the "baby pictures" for us to see. Thankfully, the printouts were labeled with body parts, to give us a frame of reference. One was a full-body shot, with the head and arm labeled, and one was an image of the head, with the eyes labeled. What's really weird? This 21-week old fetus has teeth! Really visible teeth, obviously still in the gums, but still. I hadn't thought of such things before. It was kind of cool, seeing an ultrasound photo where I didn't feel all self-conscious about saying, "What IS that? What am I looking at?" Usually I feel kind of awkward about the whole thing.

At the ultrasound, she found out that her child is a girl. She told us all about how her unborn was doing friggin' backflips, and the nice ultrasound technician was having a bitch of a time getting all the images she needed. One that she did manage to get, though, was a total spread-eagle of the kid with her feet up by her ears. We all had fun with that — I made some sort of comment that we'd have to get her daughter some big hoop earrings.

The more pregnant people I deal with on a regular basis, the more comfortable I get with the concept of *being* one of those people someday. I mean, you guys know me. Candlemaking and wearing the occasional pink shirt is as girly and frilly as I get. Something about pregnancy just harks back to my days in church, where there was always someone pregnant, and all the womenfolk could make perfect pie crusts and sew their kids' halloween costumes and their favorite paint color was mauve. I'm not like that. But I guess moms don't necessarily have to be.

I'm really tempted to share too much about my private time with Aaron... but I'm not going to. There are some things that, although really fucking funny, are just a little too personal and weird to share with the entire internets. If, however, you want to know what Aaron says after unprotected sex now, feel free to ask privately. ;-)

Doctor's Appointment

Visited the OB-GYN's office today, for the first time since college. Don't worry, I won't give gory details — not that there are many gory details to give. Most of my time was spent waiting, either in the waiting room or in the examination room.

Let me say that I started out the day pretty stoked. I stepped on the scale, and it told me I weigh 201.5 lbs, which is continuing my downward trend, and is my lowest weight point since December 2004. When I got to the doctor's office (over my lunch break) and the nurse was doing her pre-exam thing, the scale in the examination room also read 201. Rock! My scale's not fubar!

Then, after a long several minutes of me chilling out on the examination table, the doctor came in.

One of the things I asked Dr. Okin was whether I should try to lose more weight before trying to conceive, or if I should just wait until after pregnancy to continue my weight loss. Predictably, she told me that a woman should be in her best physical shape before becoming pregnant. Sure, that makes sense. Then she continued to tell me things I already know: My BMI is 29, I should be around 21 to 23, and that means my ideal weight is around 160 lbs.

Right. So, considering the steady weight loss trend of .5667 pounds a week I've had since July (yes, I *do* have a weight-tracking Excel spreadsheet), and not discounting any lengthy plateaus, I should be in prime condition to conceive in... *does calculations* ...April of 2008.

*sigh*

She must realize I'm not inclined to wait, though, because she prescribed me some prenatal vitamins.

(The entry continues in a rambling self-pitying fashion, should you care to read on...)

read more...

Babies Babies Everywhere

Seems everyone's having babies these days. I guess we're just that age ("we" being myself, Aaron, our friends, and my blog readership). A few years ago, it seemed everyone was getting married. It's the next logical step.

I used to have a "thing" about pregnant people. Even when I was eight and my aunt (who lived with us) was pregnant with my cousin Michael, I was uneasy around her. It just makes me feel... weird. Like I'm witnessing something that should be more private and less obvious than hiding a watermelon under your shirt. Or like they might break. Or like something's wrong with them. All of which I know is slightly ridiculous.

Since I've known more people who have become pregnant, had to work with them (half a dozen in my building), and socialize with them (mainly Kathy Fries), I've become less stand-off-ish about pregnant people.

Now it's the baby thing that unnerves me.

Babies and I just do not get along. Especially little ones. It's like they can feel my trepidation and awkwardness, and start to cry for Mom not two minutes after being plunked into my arms. Again, I feel like I'm going to break them. And I'm afraid to be too obviously taken in by the marvel that is Life. Someone might be watching, after all, and I can't show that I'm a softie, now can I? Especially not around my Mom, who I'd like to think I have convinced that I am an emotional rock.

But at the same time, I'm getting this feeling... this knowledge that I'm going to do this someday. It's akin to another feeling I've had, one that will require some backstory.

In the Mormon Church, the first Sunday of every month is set aside for the members to share personal experiences and bear testimony of the Gospel as they know it. It's known as Fast and Testimony Meeting, because members are also encouraged to fast for two meals, and donate the money they would have spent on those meals to the Church welfare fund. (Mom and I made use of this fund several times — the Church has a Storehouse of food for the poor, funded by these donations).

Anyway, at this particular meeting, there's no set agenda: after the standard opening song and prayer, and passing of the sacrament (This is My Body, This is My Blood... you Christian-types know the drill), the pulpit is open to all in attendance to come up and speak. It's kind of funny, too, because so many people are poor public speakers, but they want to let everyone know they believe... so there's kind of an unspoken ritual opening that all Primary children know, but all adults try to break away from: "I'd like to bear my testimony that I know this church is true. I know that Jesus is the Christ, and I know that God lives. I know that Joseph Smith was a true prophet, and that [insert current Church President here] is the prophet today..." Then the child or stumbling adult stammers through why they felt the need to bear their testimony. Usually something happened that week to particularly affirm their faith, or something happened to them that they feel the need to share, in order to reaffirm someone else's faith.

So, as a member of the congregation, you either sit and listen quietly and pensively (or not so pensively), or you start to wonder what you would say, if you got up there. If your case is the former, then Testimony Meeting is either entertaining and uplifting, or boring and tedious. Either way, no stress on you. If your case is the latter, though, the most interesting sensations come upon you. You can't seem to listen to the testimonies, because your adrenaline starts up. A feeling of inevitability wrenches your gut. You know you're going to have to get up there and say what's on your mind. It reminds me of knowing you're going to puke, except this feeling is supposed to be much more warm and fuzzy, coming from the Holy Spirit and all. (It usually isn't, though.)

It's that feeling of inevitability that I'm talking about. That knowledge that you're not sure you want to do it, but you're driven to it anyway. Something is compelling you to do this thing that you're so apprehensive about. You know you'll feel better afterwards, and you'll regret it if you don't.

That's the feeling I have about procreating. Aaron and I are comfortable with the fact that we're going to do it someday, so that's a step in the right direction. But we're also agreed upon not having kids for another few years, preferably until we have a house. It's not like my internal clock's a-ticking... though it kind of is, although I'm choosing to ignore it for now.

There are so many things to look forward to about having children, and so many things to be apprehensive about. For right now, though, I can't even keep my fucking room clean, much less raise a child. But I'm inwardly jealous of all the new parents I know, while outwardly snickering at their sleepless nights and new responsibilities. Without waxing all emotional (I am a rock, after all), suffice to say that the bond between parents and child intrigues me, and I'm looking forward to experiencing it someday.

I'm 27 right now. OK, 27-and-a-half, but who's counting? I used to think I should have kids by age 30, and I know that fertility becomes an issue at some point (right now, I do believe). I don't know, though. I don't know if we'll be ready by then. I'd wager we'll never feel totally ready... but Aaron's too careful to have an oopsie, and I'm perfectly OK with that. :-) I've just got that feeling of inevitability, and it comes and goes. I want to, but I don't, but I do... but my crotch tells me in no uncertain terms that it is not looking forward to pushing a watermelon through a straw.