Third Time is NOT a Charm

When I was pregnant a few years ago, a friend of mine asked how I was doing. I told her that I couldn't complain, inducing a head shake a small smile from her. She then chided me saying, "Kristin, just because someone else's situation sucks more than yours, doesn't mean yours doesn't suck. You can still complain; it's okay." So, even though I know that the current events of my life are far from the worst things imaginable, they are still grey and I'm going to complain about them. I apologize in advance for the whiny rambling.

Last Tuesday (the 25th), I was supposed to have my first prenatal appointment with my OB/GYN. There I was going to see my little 9-week lima bean. Instead I saw an empty uterus on the ultrasound screen and watched as the doctor removed remnants of the sac from me. As soon as I knew I was pregnant I tried to be cautious and reign in my excitement. But each day it became harder as I began thinking of a very real and very alive baby that I would have in the spring. This was something I wanted so much I couldn't help but be happy. Now I'm angry, confused, hopeless and completely depressed.

I feel like such a failure. Why is it so hard for me to have a baby? It took just about 2 years of trying before I became pregnant with Peter. As anyone who has dealt with it knows, infertility is emotionally awful. Every pregnant lady you see is a reminder that she has something you don't have. And it seems like such a simple thing to get pregnant, just basic human workings. I mean if a 14 year old girl can get pregnant because she's too dumb to prevent it, why couldn't I. But the seemingly impossible happened and I did get pregnant. I wondered how my fertility would be after Peter. I told Ryan that I felt like it was going to be much easier to get pregnant the 2nd time around. And I was right. I've been pregnant 3 separate times in the last year. I never imagined that I would actually have no problem getting pregnant, but that the issue would be staying pregnant.

Now I've just had my 3rd miscarriage in less than a year (2 confirmed, 1 highly probable). The first 2 were both before I was 6 weeks along so I was foolishly optimistic once I hit the 6 week mark with this one. And when I passed the 8 week point I honestly thought I was out of the woods. Then 3 days later I started spotting. After 2 days of spotting, mild cramps,a backache, and several panicked phone calls to my doctor I decided to go to the hospital just to check what was going on. So at 10:30 on a Saturday night (the 22nd) I watched as the ultrasound tech tried to find my baby's heartbeat and knew that things were not right. After all the tests were done, the ER doctor. told us that he couldn't really tell us what was going on. I might be having a miscarriage, I might not. They found enough positives to give him hope, but there were enough negatives to make him worried. I went home with instructions to stay flat and take it easy and call my doctor on Monday morning.

Sunday started out fine but by the evening I could tell that I was no longer in the threatened miscarriage stage. I'll spare you the details but the intense pain (so much worse than I'd experienced before) and the amount of blood left no doubt to what was happening. This continued throughout Monday and Tuesday. When I saw my doctor Tuesday morning he wanted to check to see if I needed a D&C because I had only passed very small clots. Within a minute of starting the pelvic exam he quietly asked the nurse for a few things and then told me I should look away. And because I'm an absolute idiot I'm looked as he placed a golf ball sized fetal sac into a container. Apparently the sac had made its way down and so the doctor was able to easily retrieve it. Now I have this terrible image in my head that I cannot get rid of.

So now I'm just dealing with the aftermath. The physical pain finally went away a couple of days ago and I wish it hadn't. For one thing it's much easier to focus on bodily pain than it is to deal with emotions. And secondly I am so upset with my body right now that I feel like it deserves the pain. I know it is completely illogical but I hate my body right now. I know that we don't know why this happened but I still feel so much anger towards my body like it's its fault. And then of course that spills over into my general attitude about myself. What is wrong with me? It's easy to be level headed and smart when thinking about other peoples' fertility problems. Do I think someone is terrible because she can't get pregnant? Do I think a woman is pathetic and a failure because she has miscarriage? Absolutely not! But it's different when it's about me. I can't stop my feelings of frustration and hurt from dictating my thoughts right now. I feel like a complete screw up. I've failed at yet another pregnancy. I feel like I've failed Ryan because I can't give him the children he wants. I feel like I've failed Peter because I can't give him a sibling; at this rate he'll be 10 before another kid comes along (I never wanted my kids to be more than 3 years apart). I feel like I'm failing myself because I want to cry all the time and am hiding from everyone.

Life sucks sometimes.

All Because Two People Fell In Love!

Ryan & me on July 4th in 2003. I can't believe how young (and thin) we look.

Okay, I don't know whether to blush from embarrassment or gag because I actually entitled one of my posts with that sentimental drivel. Hmm...even after 6 years of marriage, Ryan still has the ability to inspire me to babble Victorian inspired adage about our love (these babblings frequently precede me falling into a fit of vapors). So I'm going to keep it simple and non-embarrassing.

Happy Sixth Anniversary Ryan. August 19, 2003 was an awesome day and everyday since has been even better (well, almost every day!). I love you and always will (as long as you put your dirty socks in the hamper).

PS. Sorry for the lack of wedding photos. I can't seem to find the CD of our wedding pictures (maybe we've been burgled).

Oh, what do you do in the summertime...

Oh, what do you do in the summertime, when all the world is green? Do you swim in a pool, to keep yourself cool, or swing in a tree up high? Is that what you do? So do I!

But not Peter. When it's over 90 degrees outside he prefers to wear fleece footed jammies with snowmen. Obviously, this was not a battle I won (I'm definitely on a losing streak lately). Thank goodness I have A/C to deal with my son's fashion sense.

U Can't Touch This

In general, 3rd grade girls are not paragons of coolness (especially 3rd graders with shamu-sized hair sprayed bangs). But I remember being at a friend's birthday party when I was 9 and thinking I was pretty cool. Now why would I think that? Well, I was dancing to MC Hammer's "U Can't Touch This" and you can't get much cooler than that, right? There we were a bunch of dorky 8 and 9 year old girls bopping around to an older sister's mix tape and then MC Hammer came on. Wow, I loved that song.

Now, nineteen years later, Peter loves that song! For Father's Day my brother Kyle and his wife Renae gave Ryan one of those nifty Hallmark cards that plays a song when it is opened. Peter immediately fell in love with card the first time he opened it and it played "U Can't Touch This." He carries it around the house, opens it and proceeds to bust a move. He wags his head, spins in a circle, pops up from his knees, stamps the ground, and wiggles his shoulders. Thanks to his almost hourly performances this week I've learned a couple of things: 1. My 2-year-old is more coordinated than me; 2. He's way cooler now than I was as a 3rd grader (at least he thinks he is).

That Kind of Mom

One day last week Peter decided he wanted to go outside after eating. As I watched him play in the backyard I had a horrible realization: I'm "that" kind of mom! You know the kind that lets her kids run around half-naked in filthy clothes with slimy faces and sticky hands. So I apologize to all those mothers I've observed over the years with unkempt and questionably dressed children. I'm sorry I thought bad things about you and now I understand. Sometimes you just have to let your kid run around with no pants, an oatmeal dotted shirt, snow boots (Peter INSISTED he wear those), sticky peach juice hands, snot-covered face and hair containing remnants of the last meal.

Yes, Peter stopped himself when he noticed the water on the slide. I guess he thought he was already dirty enough.

Peppermint Body Wash

My newest favorite thing is Burt's Bees Peppermint and Rosemary Body Wash. After working outside in the yard there is nothing better than taking a slightly cold shower with this body wash. I immediately cool down and the peppermint makes my skin feel incredibly clean, fresh, and tingly. It's so nice it almost makes it worth it to do yard work! Now if I could just get it to give me a massage...

Adventures in Food: Japanese Style

My best friend Faith thinks I'm a picky eater. I've never really thought of myself as a picky eater, there are just some things I refuse to eat: seafood, mayonnaise (and anything made with it), hard boiled eggs, fake cheese (American Cheese is a national disgrace), canned vegetables (why turn a perfectly yummy vegetable into a mushy metallic-tasting horror), anything pickled, mustard, tomato soup, tofu, anything spongy, and hot dogs (mmm...mechanically separated parts). Although the act of listing my dislikes makes me realize that I am only proving my friend's theory/myth about me.

Anyway, Faith decided a while ago that she is going to turn me from a whitebread Utah suburbanite into a cosmopolitan foodie (isn't it cute that she actually thinks that is possible!). So we started a monthly ethnic lunch—she originally proposed calling it the "let's make Kristin eat like a big girl" monthly lunch). So far we've had Indian and Thai food. I had tried both of these years before so I wasn't completely unprepared for the experiences. I've discovered I do like Indian food but not Thai food. While I generally liked the flavor of the Thai, I had a hard time with the texture.

For May, we decided (correction: Faith decided) to go to a Japanese restaurant and sushi bar. I didn't see the point in having a Japanese lunch because I love teriyaki and tepanyaki style meat, but I guess that wasn't good enough. So about a week ago we went to a local Japanese restaurant (I'm not going to give the name of the place because I think it would be unfair for me to rate their food). Even though Faith promised me beforehand that she would not make me eat any seafood, I was still nervous. While I have always found Japanese food to be beautifully presented, I've never thought it looked that appetizing.

We started off with a Tempura sampler (basically fried vegetables, calamari and shrimp). I was definitely underwhelmed by the tempura veggies. I thought they tasted fine but would have actually liked them better without the deep frying. Next it was miso soup. I thought it was pretty yummy except I kept getting distracted by the nasty floating cubes of tofu. For the main entree I ordered the Tonkatsu lunch special. Tonkatsu is a breaded pork loin cut into thin strips. I couldn't decide whether I liked it or not because the meat was very tough (Faith said that is not normal); I'm pretty sure I would have enjoyed the flavor more if I hadn't had to work so hard to chew the meat. Fortunately, the Tonkatsu was served in a bento box (like the picture above) with rice, California rolls, pot stickers, and slightly pickled cucumbers. I like rice and pot stickers so they were safe. I was not a fan of the cucumbers (remember my abhorrence of all things pickled). Finally, I had to eat the California rolls (essentially an inside-out sushi roll with imitation crab meat). I gingerly placed one in my mouth and discovered within .5 seconds that I HATE fake seafood as much as real seafood. It was all I could do to swallow it and not spew it all over my cute bento box. A few minutes later I decided to try the California roll again so I could say that I really did make an effort. My second attempt was no better than the first. I boxed up the leftovers from my lunch (and there were plenty) and took them home with the idea to try the food again in the privacy of my own kitchen. Basically, I had the same reaction to the California roll at home as I did at the restaurant except I was able to spit out the half-chewed glob into my sink.

So here are my conclusions. Do I like Japanese food? Yes and no. Would I ever choose to go to a Japanese restaurant? Absolutely not. Would I ever go to a Japanese restaurant again if friends wanted to? Yes, but I'd stay clear of the tofu, seafood (fake and real) and California rolls unless our table was unusually close to the bathroom.

(Note to Faith: thank you for trying to improve my palette and expand my culinary horizons. While I am not having as much success as either of us wants I do appreciate your help.)