Oh, The Changes One Year Can Bring

It was something that was said at my baby shower, "It's amazing the changes one year can bring..." and it's true. It's AMAZING.

In the past year, one of my girlfriends pointed out, that two of us were now pregnant (one of our babies has been born now), one of us got married and another has received her visa and is now a citizen of our beautiful country. (We're glad we get to keep her :D ) All of our years have been full of ups and downs, but the closer I get to my due date, my more profound it is to me.

One year ago today, I would have already known that I was pregnant. My first pregnancy ever. I couldn't wait to share the news. And I didn't feel bad about spreading the word. I told friends, I told my hair stylist from where I used to live, I told pretty much all my family. My cousins, my favourite aunt, my grandparents, mom, dad, sister and brother and the list goes on.

A few weeks from now (last year) I found out I was having a miscarrage. And after that, I would find out that the pills that were supposed to help my body "clear things out" and recover from my miscarrage more quickly didn't work - and that I was still technically pregnant with a child that would never be.

One month after the beginning of my miscarrage, I went to the hospital with a few loved ones and underwent day surgery. A D&C since my body couldn't get expel the fetal tissue by itself. A month of being "pregnant"

I can tell you, that there were lots of tears, some anxiety, shock and a delayed (albeit short) stint of depression. I remember talking to my sister on the phone shortly after my D&C and saying that I felt fine mentally, and *really* I was okay. I remember her on the other end quiet... and then said gently, "Oh honey, it hasn't hit you yet..." I remember thinking,  (I might have even rolled my eyes a little) "Hasn't hit me? It's not going to, I'm fine." And little did I know, it hadn't hit me yet - I was just in shock. And THEN the emotions and crying came.

Waves and waves of emotions and crying. After one wave would pass, I'd feel great and think, "Okay! That was the end of that, let's move on with life." And then shortly after, another wave would come rolling in and it felt like the undertow would take me below the surface and I couldn't breathe. I would panic and start to wonder when this would end. I got tired of thinking that maybe I was okay, just to be knocked on my ass again. Eventually, I just expected the waves of sadness to come - and ironically,  when I expected them to come - they stopped. And really, thank goodness, because after a month of going through a miscarrage, surgery and dealing with the loss, I was glad when it was over - even if I did expect another wave to hit me for quite a while.

I think that the volunteer work that I did, the time I spent outdoors for the spring/summer and getting a new dog really helped to pull me though, along with the amazing support I had despite being so far away from home and my family.

And today, I am 32 weeks pregnant and going into my 33rd week. My little girl is rolling around and throwing punches - and she is REALLY strong. And *really* active. It hits me almost every day that in a few short weeks I'll be strapping her into the carseat (which I'm going shopping for today) and taking her home - it's such a wonderful thought and I can't wait until that day is realized.

The difference this past year has made is huge and profound. How I went from mourning the loss of a child that I would never meet to anticipating the arrival of another - I can't even begin to explain. The transformation and how far I've come. From sorrow and having no interest in even thinking about starting to try and have a family; and then starting to be okay with the possibility of trying again; and then going through the process of being prenant - even with the doubt and anxiety and frequent visits to the doctor and having to get ultrasounds early on to feel like this really might happen. Really getting from that low point to being at peace with the way things are.

I can look back at me and my situation a year ago, and not be sad or cry or feel like something is missing. (I feel like I've started rambling since the beginning of the last paragraph, so maybe I should wrap it up... it's clear in my head how I feel, but I'm not sure I have the words to express it clearly...)

I guess, if I could tell me from one year ago anything, it would be that everything will work itself out and you will be okay. Those waves will come and and feel like you're being pulled out to sea, but you're heading somewhere new and wonderful... but for heavens sake girl, keep that life jacket strapped on tight, and make sure you don't lose your bikini!

Body Image and Miscarriage - My Experience Part II

Right after my day surgery, I was surprised how well I seemed to be doing mentally(Along with everyone else who knew I miscarried). I think it took me about two weeks for the emotions to really hit me - and when they did it felt like a speeding train had just knocked me on my ass. The emotions came in waves and just as soon as I thought I was going to be okay, another wave would hit and I would be just as devistated as before.

I think they only emotion I didn't feel was guilt. I didn't feel guilty for feeling the emotions I went through, or that I wasn't able to produce the child that I had already started to love. I didn't feel guilty about not finding a job after my last work contract had ended. I knew that I had to recover emotionally and mentally and that the emotions had to run their course.

I did however, feel disconnected from and betrayed by my body. I remember thinking, "I can't even make a baby - that's what I was made to do." My heart hurt. I was told that it would be okay and I couldy try to have another baby right away, which made me angry. I didn't want to get pregnant again right away. I didn't want to have another child growing in me while I was so hurt. And I really didn't feel right about trying to use another pregnancy to help me get over my loss. They just didn't understand.

One of my good friends told me of her moms experience when she lost her twins. She recalled a conversation on the phone where her mom said "Your twin siblings would be this old today." She asked if her dad remembered the date and her moms reply was no. While my friend and I were talking, she said that while your friends and family might be there to support you in an event like this, you really are dealing with it on your own. After that conversation I carefully looked at my interactions and conversations with those who are dear to me and realized that she was right. As much as my friends and family didn't want me to hurt anymore, I was on my own, and I was the only one who could help me.

I remember a short period of time where I felt like eating food was a waste. As much as I knew that it was the furthest thing from the truth, I didn't think that I was worth wasting the food I ate. And since I knew that these thoughts were untrue, I made myself eat, and I made myself eat well the entire time I felt that way about eating.

As time went on, the waves of emotion got stronger and there is one specifically that was absolutely the worst. I was out grocery shopping and even though I'd been abstaining from sexual activity while I was ovulation, I had "pregnancy test" on my shopping list. I walked up and down the aisles and put the things I needed in my cart, but for whatever reason (and the reason now escapes me) I decided not to buy a pregnancy test.

Well, I can tell you, that on the drive home I was absolutely regretting the decision. I was hyperventilating, my knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel, my muscles were tense - I was having a panic attack and worrying that (even though I'd been abstaining from sex) I might be pregnant. I'd already passed the drug store and was over the bridge to get home, I decided that it would be best to drive to either of the two stores by my house. I walked into the first one and speed walked to the hygiene section. No pregnancy tests. I went across the parking lot to the next store. Bolted to the hygiene section on the verge of tears. No pregnancy test. "Well isn't this just my luck?" I braced myself for the (very short but seemingly forever) drive across the bridge to the Rexall.

The end result - I wasn't pregnant. I was so relieved that I didn't have to deal with my loss and also deal with being pregnant before I wanted to be again. It was also this panic attack that made me think that I had to start seeing someone that I could talk to. I got a hold of the mental health director in my area and she set me up with a great counsellor named Nancy. My first appointment all I did was cry. And throughout our sessions Nancy asked hard questions that really made me think and sometimes didn't even know how to answer.

The funny thing was, that very shortly after we started our sessions, I started thinking that things were getting better and I wouldn't have to do many more sessions and even though I was always expecting another wave of emotion to hit - it didn't. The last session I had, I ultimately cancelled, because I'd just found out that I was pregnant again and had an ultrasound in the afternoon after my morning session with Nancy. I really didn't want to take the chance of being upset by the time I was supposed to be getting the ultrasound. I wanted to make sure (and needed to know) things were okay before I saw Nancy again. Even though the woman doing my ultrasound wasn't supposed to tell me anything, I told her that I'd had a miscarriage, that I was going out of town for two weeks and wouldn't be able to see my doctor until I got back. She turned the screen around to face me and showed me what was going to be the baby I'm carrying now. Just the tiniest thing. So far it was just a yolk and sac. (In my previous pregnancy, there was no yolk or anything, jsut an empty sac) I had hope then. "I have a yolk!" I was in between 4 and 5 weeks, so really, we couldn't see ANYTHING... lol.

On the drive home somebody close to me said, "You're going to be a mom!" and I replied with, "We'll see..." They looked at me and said, "You are supposed to be the positive one, you aren't supposed to talk like that." All I could say in return was, "Look, I would rather be pessimistic about this and be wrong than get my hopes up and be excited and then be knocked on my ass again."

I went on my trip to visit my friends and family feeling a little more at ease. I dealt with nausia and my first actual experience with morning sickness (while I was sick with a cold, nonetheless) I had my sister give me a lot of reassurance and advice... and an awesome pregnancy pillow. I had my mom scold me for not taking it easy enough or for picking up my nieces and nephews - in her defense, one of my nieces is eight and my two year old nephew is the size of a four year old. Understandable, right? Shortly after I got back from my trip and I'd settled back in at home, I contacted Nancy and told her that I was doing well and no longer needed our sessions and thanked her for all the help she'd given me.

As time has gone by, I've grown more comfortable and excited with believing that things are going to be okay. I don't push myself when I'm doing my chores or walking the dog. I try to listen to my body as much as I can. I eat well most of the time. I sleep and rest when I have to. I make it a priority to not worry about things and and try to be calm and relaxed for my sake and my babies sake.

Now I'm nearly 14 weeks and in my last ultrasound I saw my baby kick and squirm. I laughed and was so overwhelmed at this amazing little person growing inside of me, litt heart beating and trying to get that little thumb in it's mouth.

I still get sad sometimes when I think about my first pregnancy and how excited I was when I took my pregnancy test and saw those two little lines. How shattered I was when I found out that it might not work out. How devistating it was when I found out that the pills didn't work, that I was still pregnant and had to have surgery. I think about all the crying I did and how I felt about myself and my body and all of the emotions that came afterward. And I think about how we have so much to look forward to in our life together.

And somehow, it's all worth it.

Body Image and Miscarriage - My Experience Part I

This is a topic that I wanted to cover shortly after I had my miscarriage and when I started the Body Image series (which, to be perfectly honest, I still have to finish... I have about 3 or 4 other body image posts just waiting in my drafts)

I think that body image is a tough topic to tackle on it's own. I think it's especially difficult to discuss when body image is combined with a loss that is as deep reaching as a miscarriage. And in truth, people don't openly discuss miscarriage. Sure, we talk about it with our close family members and friends or maybe even more distant family members or friends you don't see or talk to as often if they bring it up, but it's not widely discussed beyond those boundaries. Even doing a web search of miscarriage and body image, I found very little.

And with good reason. You feel betrayed by your body; some women feel guilty and it's easy to feel like there is something wrong with you or that you're defective.

My experience, was a roller coaster ride to say the least. For those who know me personally or have read my blog previously will know that in March I had to go to the hospital. I didn't know I was having a miscarriage for sure, but I wanted to be safe and be checked out. In the pregnancy books they tell you that with a miscarriage you feel severe pain and may have severe bleeding. I didn't have anywhere near severe pain, and there wasn't plenty of blood either. So I was hopeful that things would be okay and at most I would have to quit my job and take it easy at home.

That was the start of my miscarriage.

They found that my pregnancy hormone hCG wasn't nearly as high as it should have been. I was at the hospital for hours, had blood tests done and had an ultrasound. They told me I had to go home for two days and then come back to see if there was an improvement or if my hormones continued to decline. (I think we know what ended up happening) These two days were the most stressful I can think of in my short life, and it was full of worry, crying and not knowing what might happen. The doctor who had been taking care of me gave me some pills to help my body clear out what it needed to in a bit shorter of a time frame. I was sad, but I found a little comfort in the fact that there was nothing I could have done to change things. I went home and back to work. I was doing okay.

At a two week check up, they did more blood tests and another ultrasound - I was still pregnant. Oh-FUCK! The pills they gave me didn't work, and they didn't have much hope that they would work after a second dosage. They gave me some time to think about what I wanted to do. I decided that rather than take another course of the meds and possibly be disappointed again in another two weeks to go the day surgery route. I scheduled a D&C that took place in April. The recovery time was a week.

By the end of April, I had been dealing with the same miscarriage for a month, had day surgery - the exact thing they refused to discuss in the first place (Not that I would have chosen the day surgery at that point anyway)

I remember coming out of my snooze after the surgery, there was a woman talking to me saying that I was in the hospital and I was doing really well and that we were done. She asked how I felt, and (with closed eyes, since I was groggy) I felt a single tear roll down my cheek as I said "That was supposed to be my first baby..." I guess she already had a tissue on hand, because she wiped away my tear and put the tissue in my hand.

Pretty much as soon as I was coherent, I looked down at my belly. It was big, swollen and empty. It felt a lot like pizza dough. I've never seen my belly that big and it was strange.
Afterward, I felt A LOT better than I expected mentally. I remember talking to my sister on the phone saying the exact same thing to her. And I remember her saying something like, "Ohhhh honey, it hasn't hit you yet." She knew what she was talking about through her own experiences.

And little did I know, she was exactly right. It hadn't hit me yet, and it was just the beginning.

They Don't Call It A Challenge Because It's Easy

Let's face it, weight loss is chalk full of ups and downs. It's exhilerating, it's empowering and you feel great with a sense of accomplishment after a good workout. But then there are those other days, aren't there?

The other days where you didn't eat breakfast because you had an appointment to get to or you didn't eat protein in all of your meals because you had to go shopping or were lazy. You decided that "Hey, pizza seems like a great idea... and I REALLY don't want to make dinner in this heat tonight...". That craving for something sweet really caught up with you and you bought a tub of ice cream. OR your spouse makes it hard to stick to your diet commitment to healthy eating.

Since I have started my weight loss challenge on May 1st, I went from 180 lbs to 170 lbs (YAY!) but after a few weeks of inactivity and poor eating choices, I gained nearly four of those pounds back (nearly...)Since then, I have started the INSANITY workout with my friend Caroline, and I am almost back down to 170. One more pound to go until I'm back, baby!

Shortly after I started my weight loss challenge, I was having a rough time with my emotions from the miscarriage and found it difficult to get into workout mode. As I Was talking to one of my high school girlfriends she said:

"If anything, I have to look at you choosing a really hard time to make a change like this. Look at the good days as your time to relax and enjoy life, see what you are working for as something good for yourself and on the bad days, let them be bad. Go for a run, an fight it off. Like the punching bag effect I guess. Those feelings are so justified, I cannot even begin to understand or relate to them but just knowing you have to experience it makes me hurt. On and off (waves of emotion) is a good thing, that there are good and bad times now. Not all bad."

And she is TOTALLY right. I did chose a super hard time to try to lose weight and be disciplined when all I want to do (some days) is eat my emotions and take comfort in food.

The thing I have to keep reminding myself when I do have bad days is:

1. I do feel better when I am active and exercising, even when having a bad day.
2. I am worth it to ensure I am living a healthy lifestyle.
3. It is worth the effort to make sure that our future children have a healthy and happy mom who is a good role model.
4. It will (and is getting) get better, it just takes time.
5. I can let the bad days be bad and then move on.

I am also really excited to say, that as of tomorrow, I am starting to see a councellor about the miscarriage! Her name is Nancy and I'm looking forward to meeting here and hopefully together we can help me to move on and get prepared for my (eventual) next pregnancy.

How have you been doing lately? Are things crazy where you are or are you just strolling and enjoying the scenery?

180 - Turning It Around

I'm pretty sure I nearly fell over. I looked away, then looked back down again. Yup, there it is - 180. The scale read 180 lbs.

Now, I've made an unofficial and small effort over the years to NOT care about what the scale said, (partially due to a history of anorexia) but rather, if I could look in the mirror and be happy - that was good enough for me. The Scale hitting 180 was the last straw for me.

Over the past few years my weight has slowly, but steadily crept upward. For a couple years I wavered around 155-160. No biggy. Then I moved and it wavered between 160, 165 and 170. No Problem right? I'm a tall gal.

Mid March was the down fall - and the creep upwards. I was having a miscarriage. (And don't believe what the preggo books say, you do NOT have to be in severe pain or bleeding severely when you have a miscarriage, just sayin') This was no ordinary miscarriage, this was the miscarriage that wanted to stay for as long as it could.

The oral tablets the doctors gave me to help my body clean house, did not work. We found this out two weeks after I took the supposed "easy" pills. March and April were a blur of doctors appointments, ultrasounds, ER staff, lots of emotional exhaustion and confusion. I ended up getting day surgery scheduled. I was to go in for a D&C to clear out what my body, and those pills, couldn't so far.

For a month and a half I chose McDonalds instead of homemade chicken, Miss Vickys Salt and Vinegar instead of salad and LOTS of chocolate instead of fruit. It helped give me a distraction and numb what I was feeling. Eventually, (a few weeks ago) I was ready to start eating healthy again, and take control. I played with the idea of getting a personal trainer. I decided that I should weigh myself before I took any futher steps.

Which leads me to here. With you reading this right now. I gained 15-20 lbs in the span of a month and a half to two months. HOW ON EARTH did this happen? More importantly, how long will it take me to lose it?

A woman possessed and determined to meet my goal, I started creating a plan. I (more or less) cut out junk food from my diet. I wrote a list of what my temptation foods were, what I could replace them with; made a commitment to walking every evening after dinner and getting in some physical activity in every day.

I went to the library to find a book unrelated to health/weight loss/dieting, but found a great book on just that topic by a Wall St nutritionist, (more on that later) bought an exercise bike and decided to set my goals in 10 lb increments.

I still have a little way to go to 170 (here's hoping for any day now!) and I am still finding the tools that work for me to keep my motivation up, but no one else can make this happen. It's all me. I AM going to make it work.

I choose my health over greasy food.
I choose to make my life better.
I choose me.