Tuesday 5: Summer time and the living is....busy?!

Okay, wow.  Sooooo...I took the summer off.  Sorry about that.  I have been BUSY!  This time I actually mean it and I wasn't just suffering from writer's block.

I'm gonna do a Tuesday 5 to get back in the groove, alright?

Thanks for sticking with me, by the way.  And HELLLLOOoooooo to the new faces!  (Pretend that was Seinfeld.)

Without further ado...

1.  I started a new job in May, as a trainer.  I love it.  It's always different and I get to talk a LOT.  Only downside is all. the. MEETINGS.  OMGoodness!  That's okay, though because I would still rather be stuck in a meeting than sitting at a desk doing the same work over and over and over ad infinitum.  I also chose a standing desk at my workspace.  I love it.  I occasionally do a bit of yoga while standing.  I do some squats or calf raises while reading stuff and my legs feel much better.

2.  I am involved in 3 SIGNIFICANT things within my parish.  I have weekly meetings for two of them and am about to start monthly meetings for the third one.  I'm actually THRILLED!  I like having 50 things going at once so this suits me just fine.  The people I work with are all brilliant and kind and funny and creative and so, so generous with their spirits, their words, and their time.  It's amazing.  Truly.  I love my parish so much!

3.  So, I flaked on no-spend August you guys!  I just couldn't plan and commit this year.  It was so hard.  I was busy and just feeling depressed and deflated (losing one of my pets and gaining back some weight will do that to you) and I just felt so blah that I didn't do it.  BUT, I have my shopping list for September and tomorrow after work I am going to prep.  It's going to be a September fiscal fast instead.  I have a few old blog posts on this, if you are clueless.  Check 'em out!

4.  I've been thinking about babies a lot lately.  There's a song by Jason Aldean called "Laughed until we Cried" and it came on my mp3 today.  This is one of the verses:

Just the other night the baby was cryin
So I got out of bed rocked her awhile and I held her tight
And I told her it would be all right
My mind went back to a few years ago
We tried so long, we almost gave up hope
And I remember you comin' in and tellin me the news
Oh man we were livin, goin crazy in the kitchen
We danced and screamed and held each other tight
We laughed until we cried

Ugh, you guys.  I wanted this so badly...I dreamed of the day that I could do this with my husband.  It touches my heart so deeply and some days I can't handle it.  It's been a while since I've felt as sad as I did when all the fertility stuff was actively happening to me.  I trust in Jesus to help me.  He's there.  I know it.  It's just really f'in depressing sometimes.  It makes me hide that pain behind something else and not processing this crap hasn't helped.  Sometimes I watch a bunch of sad videos to force myself to cry it out, but I have to find joy in small things.  I have to. 

5.  Well, the inevitable "signs of aging" have started.  Oh boy.  (Note the sarcasm.)  I put my hair up in a top knot the other day and I apparently have glitter all over my hair now...?  Or something glinting in the light.  I'm going with strands of glitter.  I also have to fill in my eyebrows with a pencil now.  Okay, that's just not cool.  Why do eyebrows thin?  I don't want to be the middle aged woman with just one thin line as my brow.  Also, there's a vessel in my eyelid that's now visible.  The hell is that?  My hands are getting old, too.  This can't be happening!  Where do I submit complaints?  

Get off my lawn, you durn kids!  

Thanks for reading.

My child would be...

My child would be 4 1/2 now.  My favorite age.  They would be saying funny things and singing silly songs.  We would be reading a book to them every night and tucking them in with a sweet kiss on their head.

My child was one of the 15 to 20 percent of all pregnancies in the United States that ended in a miscarriage.  I was only 7 or 8 weeks along.  I didn't even know I was pregnant until I miscarried and honestly didn't realize right away that I had miscarried.  I have two stepchildren and have never been able to get pregnant again.  

My child would be in preschool.  I would have picked them up and seen the smile spread across their cherubic face.  My child would have given me sticky kisses and grabbed my hand with dirty hands of their own.  

But, my child is none of those things.  My child instead is in heaven and every day I wonder how different my life would have been had I not miscarried.  My child will never be an adult, a teenager, a bride or a groom.  I will never get to wrap my arms around them.

Now though, I will speak up and speak out.  I lost a pregnancy.  I am one of those statistics and if you are, too, you don't need to be silent.  15 to 20% of pregnancies end in a miscarriage.  That's a lot of women and men suffering from losing a child.  October is pregnancy and infant loss awareness month.  It happens more than most people realize and it isn't shameful.  There is support.  Please reach out if you need it.

Until then, I pray for your babies and you.  If you believe, know that one day you will be reunited with that child.  My child would be 4 1/2 right now, talking and laughing and scraping their knees.  Instead, they are in heaven and I am here, holding on to hope.

Give love.  Be kind.

Life in the Middle

As you may have heard, today is National Middle Child Day here in the United States.  This quasi-holiday was established in the 1980s by one Elizabeth Walker, who wanted a day for middle children because she thought that children in the middle of families often felt left out.  I feel like Elizabeth Walker may have been a kindred spirit.

As many of you may know, I am a middle child.  I have 6 brothers and sisters and I am actually number 4 in the birth order, making me smack dab in the middle of the middles.  I think that I am pretty classically middle child, though some may argue that since I was the baby for 5 years before my first younger brother came along, that it may somehow skew the results.

I have a theory about middle children.  I believe they are typically the hardest, most trying of the bunch, but they also can be the most faithful and loving as well.  Time and time again, I have heard from friends who talk about how they have this one child that infuriates them on a daily basis.  The child doesn't want to listen, they act out, they may throw temper tantrums, but they are also silly, quirky even.  They are typically the avant garde dressers, the ones who throw their passion into a source of creativity, and the ones who work very hard to be good at something!  Nearly every single friend who describes that child, when asked which child it is, will tell me it's their middle child.

It's often thought that middle children act out because they don't get enough attention.  The eldest is typically the straight A, always-do-right kid.  The baby is the oh-isn't-(s)he-cute, can-do-no-wrong child.  The middle child, or middle children, usually have to fight to be acknowledged.  There are even studies that show that middle children are typically NEVER the 'favorite' child in a household.

However, what middle children may lack in attention from their parents, they more than make up for in EXCESS EMOTION and perhaps a wee bit of MELODRAMA.  'Tis true.  Middle children are a bit more hypersensitive than most, I would wager.  I certainly was and sometimes am.  I am not a drama llama anymore, mind you, but I may have sobbed over missing a church meeting last week when it slipped my mind.  (I did.)  I also may tear up over sappy commercials.  (I do.)

Life in the middle was sometimes overwhelming and exhausting, but I got a bit of the best of both worlds.  I wasn't the first one to test the limits.  *cough* older sister *cough*  I learned how to read when I was 4 (my older siblings taught me).  I was never mistaken for an older sibling at school, because I was extraordinarily unique (i.e. WEIRD, really UNCOOL and WEIRD, with WEIRD clothes).  I also never had to worry about people treating me like a little kid even when I got older, because I learned to be fiercely independent.

First borns may have the brains and babies may have the unrestrained limits, but we middle kids don't have it so bad...we have a national holiday!  Middle children unite!

Today

October is Pregnancy/Infant Loss and SIDS Awareness month.  This post was originally written on another blog I started in May 2011, but I didn't blog again after that.  I really like this piece, so I am publishing it here.

I was supposed to meet you this week.  It's strange.  I didn't even know you before you were gone and yet, I miss you still.  You were mine, but it was never meant to be.  Every time I think of you, I ache.  Grief can be transient, but the thought of you remains constant.  I never wanted anything more than I wanted you.

I miscarried my child at 7 weeks.  October 8, 2010.  I had been trying for over 2 1/2 years to have a child.  The day that I miscarried was like any ordinary day.  My husband and I were going to our best friends' house.  We had been back from vacation for about a month.  I had PCOS, so I didn't always have a consistent period.  I had stopped taking pregnancy tests a while ago, because every time I thought I might be, it was a negative.  I thought this was just another hiccup in my cycle. I had started spotting a tiny bit that morning, but I thought it was just the beginning of my next period.  I had used a tampon.  When I took a shower that evening, I removed it.  That's when it happened.  I didn't realize what the heck was going on at that moment.  Later, it all made sense.  That's when I miscarried and the waves of disappointment came crashing in.

We had taken a 6-years-late honeymoon in Cocoa Beach, Florida.  It was gorgeous.  We laid on the beach, waded in the ocean, and ate fresh, fabulous seafood.  We even did some deep-sea fishing and kayaked with manatees among the mangrove trees.  Utterly perfect.  In between of course, we made love.  A lot.  I remember telling my husband to quit nipping at my breast, because MY GOODNESS THAT REALLY HURTS, STOP IT!!  That should have been a sign, but I never connected the dots.  I was so used to disappointment.

After that shower, still in shock from what I thought had happened, we went to our friends' house and I asked my friend questions, as she'd had 2 miscarriages before they got pregnant with their little boy, who was only a month and a half old at the time.  She confirmed that's what it probably was.  How could that be?  I was stunned.  I'm not a hugging type, but she put her arms around me and let me know she was there for me.

But this week is the week.  It would've been the final week (assuming I hadn't gone early).  My coworker is due 4 weeks from now.  My younger sister, the same.  My sister-in-law in 7 1/2 weeks.  Several of my friends have had children in the last few months.

This aching grief has attacked again.  This is why I am blogging.  I no longer know what to do with my thoughts.  They tumble through my mind.  I have to organize them and so here I am.  Labeling my grief and storing it in a box for posterity.  The hurt lingers, but I will go on.  Even knowing what this week means...never meeting YOU, child.  I miss you.