Its 6:12am and I have been up since 3:00am. This early rising is kid induced of course. So, here I sit after having gone through the ShopRite circular to see what is on sale and what meals I can get out of it for the week.
I feel like I am struggling to get back on track. I realize that my energies are scattered and I am not exactly sure why. Could be a number of things. I am readjusting to not working anymore, dealing with this pregnant for four days then not so much, the school year winding down, the want and need to put Max in daycare knowing we can not afford to do so and not succumbing to the pressure to do so anyway, feeling like I am not taking time for me.
It is funny how things seem so clear in the wee hours of the morning. All of the possibilities just exist. I have decided to stop putting exercise off until the middle of or end of the day. I realize I do my best in the morning first thing. Now to make it happen.
So, both children are up watching Wow Wow Wubbzy. We have gone through the books, looked for stuff in Shop Rite, made a list....and now....they are sleepy.
I am going upstairs to put on some work out clothes (heck, maybe I will stay in my pajamas and put the kids on the jogger and we are going to go running. It will put them to sleep and allow me to start my day. It can't hurt any.
ShopRite will be there after the run. Maybe a little more crowded, but being around people is not always bad. Most times, but not all the time.
Today, I refocus on the good stuff and I am going to stop stressing about everything and nothing. There really is no need for that.
Until the Next Time
Your Recovering Fat Girl'
Mikki
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Down that road again....
I should have known something was amiss when I awoke with the dull ache in my lower back. It was a familiar ache and in no way welcomed. I waited with my eyes closed waiting to feel the nausea that had been with me for the last six or seven days or the tale tell dizziness I had been experiencing for what seemed forever.
I ignored it. I had already claimed "Boog" to make it. Surely, nothing bad would happen again. I am a good person. I do good things. I hold doors for old people, I tell people when their tires are flat when I am driving, I go to church and listen when Max allows me to do so. The odds of this happening AGAIN are slim to none. For this to happen again would mean there was truly a problem. I did not want to pretend that what I had been through and lived with medically was unspeakabley horrendous, because in truth, it was not.
And so it happened again. The medical people term it a "chemical pregnancy" because for whatever reason the ball of cells never fully implants and out it goes. The logical thing would be for me not to test early at all. I get that. But here is the thing about knowing your body as well as I know mine. I knew I was pregnant before I ever took the test. I know how things work in there. I know the tell tale signs. The dizziness that only happens when another is on board. The mouth full of saliva. The extra vivid dreams that usually have to do with bags of fish and death. I knew before the friend was due and that is rather hard to turn off.
I attempted to hold it in, not to tell Tim this time because I didn't want him to be dissappointed again. I feel bad thinking he can't handle it. Or maybe its my being selfish and unable to share that hurt. I don't do crying well and to feel that vulnerable about something over which I have absolutely no control drives me crazy.
But I told him anyway, that our "Boog" didn't make it. Again. We hugged and I suggested maybe it was time to see Dr. Minassian again. Tim agreed. Even though he has moved his practice to an hour away in another city. Tim said he is more than willing to do the driving. I agree that I am willing to sit in the passenger seat. Our eyes get moist but we don't cry. I don't do crying, and Tim won't really in front of me.
We gather up our already here kids and head to the park on a beautiful day.
Once there we swing and slide with the kids, run around and keep them safe. I still have that horrible, nagging, dull ache in my back that feels most unfairly like labor pains. I allow myself the minute or two to feel sad about it, but no more than that. Wallowing is only productive if you're a piglet and there is dirt around, and even they have to stop at some point. I take the advice my grandma gave me long ago as I lamented some man/boy I thought I loved and perhaps I did but he did not love me in return.
"Do you still love him?" she asked "Yes" I replied. I was expecting a "well go get him" or some asnwer to that effect. In stead she said "Well, give yourself three days and you will get over it. Any thing after that is just wallowing in it and there is no sense in doing that."
WOW. I thought. That was harsh. But in reality, she was correct. I gave myself 72 hours and truthfully I really was over it. The time I spent talking about it afterward really was an exercise in self pity.
So no self pity here. By Thursday it will be over. In the mean time, I have doors to hang, clothes to wash, kids to take care of, oh yeah, and trails to run. Even in the rain. This will not defeat me. Nothing will.
Until the Next Time
Your Recovering Fat Girl
Mikki
I ignored it. I had already claimed "Boog" to make it. Surely, nothing bad would happen again. I am a good person. I do good things. I hold doors for old people, I tell people when their tires are flat when I am driving, I go to church and listen when Max allows me to do so. The odds of this happening AGAIN are slim to none. For this to happen again would mean there was truly a problem. I did not want to pretend that what I had been through and lived with medically was unspeakabley horrendous, because in truth, it was not.
And so it happened again. The medical people term it a "chemical pregnancy" because for whatever reason the ball of cells never fully implants and out it goes. The logical thing would be for me not to test early at all. I get that. But here is the thing about knowing your body as well as I know mine. I knew I was pregnant before I ever took the test. I know how things work in there. I know the tell tale signs. The dizziness that only happens when another is on board. The mouth full of saliva. The extra vivid dreams that usually have to do with bags of fish and death. I knew before the friend was due and that is rather hard to turn off.
I attempted to hold it in, not to tell Tim this time because I didn't want him to be dissappointed again. I feel bad thinking he can't handle it. Or maybe its my being selfish and unable to share that hurt. I don't do crying well and to feel that vulnerable about something over which I have absolutely no control drives me crazy.
But I told him anyway, that our "Boog" didn't make it. Again. We hugged and I suggested maybe it was time to see Dr. Minassian again. Tim agreed. Even though he has moved his practice to an hour away in another city. Tim said he is more than willing to do the driving. I agree that I am willing to sit in the passenger seat. Our eyes get moist but we don't cry. I don't do crying, and Tim won't really in front of me.
We gather up our already here kids and head to the park on a beautiful day.
Once there we swing and slide with the kids, run around and keep them safe. I still have that horrible, nagging, dull ache in my back that feels most unfairly like labor pains. I allow myself the minute or two to feel sad about it, but no more than that. Wallowing is only productive if you're a piglet and there is dirt around, and even they have to stop at some point. I take the advice my grandma gave me long ago as I lamented some man/boy I thought I loved and perhaps I did but he did not love me in return.
"Do you still love him?" she asked "Yes" I replied. I was expecting a "well go get him" or some asnwer to that effect. In stead she said "Well, give yourself three days and you will get over it. Any thing after that is just wallowing in it and there is no sense in doing that."
WOW. I thought. That was harsh. But in reality, she was correct. I gave myself 72 hours and truthfully I really was over it. The time I spent talking about it afterward really was an exercise in self pity.
So no self pity here. By Thursday it will be over. In the mean time, I have doors to hang, clothes to wash, kids to take care of, oh yeah, and trails to run. Even in the rain. This will not defeat me. Nothing will.
Until the Next Time
Your Recovering Fat Girl
Mikki
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