Stage 3

So the third stage of grief is bargaining.

Bargaining: This is “the what if or I should have” stage. The mind is engaged in negative streaming, brain-locked in an upsetting point in time. Be aware of negative thought streams to objectify them; have a logical discourse with your thoughts. Then you can invest your energy into a solution.

So this sounds kind of like where I am right now. Going over things in my head. If I did this, or that, perhaps I wouldn't have been fired. If I had of taken less sick days maybe I wouldn't be where I am right now. If I had of just kept on going....

Woulda Shoulda Coulda.

I had a dead baby inside of me. I needed those sick days. I had surgery. I needed those sick days.

I've got to just fuck off. Screw the bargaining with myself. It's done. I did nothing wrong. My performance was not the issue. The decline in the industry was the issue.

So be it.

Interesting read here actually. A different view. I like how they change the term "5 stages of grief" to "5 stages of receive catastrophic news". Puts a new energetic on it.

Good times.

Grief is fascinating.

Seriously.

My grief went right out the window as soon as Stacey had her baby.

Seriously. In that moment, I was just in the moment. I was happy for my best friend. And delighted to meet her little guy.

There was no weirdness. There was not one thing that was about me. I was, and am, ecstatic for her. I held him for the first time a few days after he was born.

Again, no weirdness. I wasn't triggered. I wasn't sad. I wasn't feeling empty, like I thought I would.

I was just happy for my best friend.

Urs.

A letter, of sorts.

I haven't had time to process.

To process the year I've had.

The first miscarriage. It was purely physical. It was nothing but blood and cramps.

And then it was over. And I promptly went back to work.

I was just off sick for 5 days. That's all. Just off sick.

(The first pregnancy, however, was another story. That, was pure joy. That, was completely unexpected bliss. That, changed my life. The miscarriage? Just physical. See... I wasn't feeling.)

The second miscarriage. It was purely heartbreaking. It was everything but blood and cramps. There were no blood and cramps. There was just me, losing the love of my life. My child.

And three days after the procedure, I promptly went back to work. I listened to my mother, "You HAVE to go back to work. It won't look good if you're off too long. It'll get your mind off it."

Yeah. Ok.

And so off I went, back to work.

I was just off sick for 12 days. That's all. Just off sick. (That's how I got through it. That's how I managed to get myself back to work. And promptly fell apart for 4 & 1/2 months.)

And up next? The car accident. September 26. Rattled to the bone. In shock that I actually walked away from it in one piece. No physical harm. Other than a minor sore neck, but a majorly sore back. And after 12 massage sessions, the back was less sore.

But the anxiety started.

Post traumatic stress. Great, just fucking great. And to top it all off, a hell of a time at work with my boss getting on me for my doctor's appointments. I suppose she forgot that I had two miscarriages and a car accident, so OF COURSE I have doctor's appointments.

Then, third appointment with a therapist and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I'm beginning to put it all behind me. After all, three things have already happened this year. It's been a hellish year. I should be fine from here on out. I'm in no more back pain, I'm on a homeopathic remedy for stress and anxiety, The Husband and I are ready to become pregnant again, life was looking up. I could handle this. I could get through this. I could make peace with the trauma and drama of 2007. I could. I could!

And then I got fired.

So no, mom. So no, friends. So no, everyone. I'm NOT ready to make any moves yet. I'm NOT ready to join the work force right away. I'm NOT taking meetings or job-hunting.

I'm looking after me.

I'm looking after the me that I didn't look after this year. I'm looking after me so I can process the trauma, not just handle it, PROCESS it. Deal with it. Let it go.

Heal.

So I can be the best me I can be as I go forward into 2008.

So let me be.

Urs.

Grief?

So now that The Husband is gone back to work, life feels less like a vacation and more like unemployement.

He stayed home for two days with me and we just bitched about being let go, bitched about the company, bitched about certain people there, slept in, had long leisurely breakfasts, enjoyed the sunny weather, that sort of thing. (Editor's note... "WE" didn't so much bitch... HE did. Me? I'm happy as a clam to have been let go. Him? He's happy too, but he's milking it to the company right now... "How can you be so heartless as to let someone go right before Christmas?" And, "You all ruined my life!". Oh, and then there's the, "We just bought a house. We just bought a car. You all are SCREWING us!". He's just ranting, as only he can do.)

However... now that he's gone back to work, I'm left with feeling a bit lost. I have LOTS to do (relatives in town, having them for dinner each night, sightseeing, yada yada yada), but don't really feel like doing anything.

Went to have my car detailed earlier thismorning. Having lunch in a few minutes. Going for groceries after that. Have a cranial-sacral late afternoon. Picking up my aunt after that to bring her back to the house for dinner.... the list goes on. But yet I feel a bit, uh, lost.

Apparently losing a job is traumatic. Also, apparently, you've got to grieve it. And grieve it properly so you can move on. There are 5 steps to grief, so I've been told. (I haven't been told what they are, just that there are 5 steps. I wish I had have been told this when we lost the last baby. That may have saved me 4.5 months of hell. However, I digress....)

Googling the 5 steps of grief... brb...

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

(details here)

But what about joy? I'm practically joyful about it. I had wanted to leave for a long time, but I didn't have the nerve. I was too afraid. I was comfortable there. I knew what to expect. I knew how to handle the corporate bullshit (ie: ignore and get on with things).

Or am I just in the first stage... denial?

Urs.

And just when you think this year can't get any worse...

... I get fired.

Yes, I was let go on Friday.

Jesus Christ. I think I'm going to just hole up at home until 12:01am on January 1st. This year has been rotten.

Seriously.

I thought, ok, 2 miscarriages and 1 car accident. That should be the end of it. Why would anything else bad happen to me? I'm a good person. I live my life right. I should be safe now. The rotten stuff is OVER.

And I go into work on Friday and am fired.

Fuck.

It's actually a good thing though. I feel really good about it because of two things:

1. I wanted to leave for a long time but didn't have the balls.
2. They're giving me a great package.

So I'm safe, financially, until probably next summer or so. In the meantime, I've already had two job offers.

Good times.

But seriously?

I'm not straying too far from the house until the new year.

Urs.

When will this day end?

God, I'm having a horrific day and it's only 11:30 a.m. Jesus Christ.

I'm sure it's partly the whole non-smoking thing. And partly that I'm menstruating.

(Not that I'm menstruating. But that it means I'm not pregnant.)

Non-smokers don't crave cigarettes. Non-smokers don't crave cigarettes. Non-smokers don't crave cigarettes. Non-smokers don't crave cigarettes.

Ok, perhaps I'll go outside at putter around the yard. That will keep my mind occupied for a while.

Non-smokers don't crave cigarettes.

Urs.

Somebody give the girl a sandwich.

I'm a bear today. It all started when I got home from work. This is the first day I've gotten home from work in 19 years that I haven't had a cigarette. (Except the two times I was pregnant.)

Yes, I'm a bear. Somebody give me a sandwich.

Or a cigarette.

No! Please don't. I don't want to smoke. And I don't want to gain weight.

So no smoke. And no sandwich.
***

I got my period thismorning. So all of that, was just pms.

Just fucking great.

Now I want a cigarette even more.

Urs.

Ok, so I'm officially crazy.

I figured that because my boobs are sore, my tastebuds have changed and I'm not as regular as usual... a pregnancy test was in order.

Even though I'm SEVEN days away from getting my (perhaps) period, I thought I'd give it a whirl.

And?

No. Only one pink stripe.

Doesn't mean it won't show two next week, but for now, only one.

Really, I figured that seeing as I'm having the same symptoms as the first time, it might mean that it would show on a stick. That, because of these "symptoms", it must go to prove that the hcg levels would be rising, and would therefore show on a stick. A little stick. I'm depending on a stick. I'm stuck on a stick.

Geesh.

Maybe next week.

Urs.

I touch myself.

One week to go to the next pregnancy test.

In the meantime... Sore boobs. Which is unusual for me this far before I get my period.

And extreme distaste of 1.) chicken caesar wrap without the wrap and, 2.) chocolate chip cookies.

I LOVE chicken caesar wraps. Without the wrap. So chicken caesar salad, I suppose.

I also LOVE chocolate chip cookies.

Couldn't stomach either today. And noticed the sore boobs last night as I was standing over my husband as he was preparing a presentation. I had to keep feeling them to see if they were really sore. And yes, they were.

They are.

And they aren't, usually, this far before my period. Usually a couple of days, but not a week. Hmmmm.

So I'm walking around my house and every few minutes I grab my "girls" and give them a squeeze. And every time I squeeze, they bark a little bit at me. "Hey Urs, look out there... we're TENDER already. Geesh!" And so I squeeze again, just to make sure my mind isn't playing tricks on me.

The first time I was pregnant, last December, it was about a week before my period was due that my boobs started to get sore, and about a week when my tastebuds started to change. And also about a week when my "bathroom tendancies" changed. Yes, constipation. (Which, by the way, I realized thismorning, has started. I'm not regular. Well, not AS regular as usual, but I digress.)

The last time, last May? I had NO symptoms at all. Zip. None. So am I crazy? Is it just early menstrual symptoms? Or could I be pregnant? I was so afraid at the thought of becoming pregnant again... what if I'm not ready? What if I'm not through with my grief and sadness? What if my body isn't ready? What if it doesn't surive?

Again.

But I find myself absolutely ecstatic at the prospect! Which totally surprise me. I've been so wrapped in my misery. My despair. So wrapped up in it all that the prospect of joy seemed to elude me. And yet when it hit me today, when it hit me that I actually may be pregnant again.... I was elated! The feeling of joy totally took me by surprise. And I'm so happy that I can feel joy again. Even if I'm not pregnant right now, even if the pregnancy test shows me only one stripe....

I'm thrilled that I felt joy again.

It's been so long.

Urs.

You have (no) mail.

My inbox has been full for 5 years. Full of print ads, newspaper copy, old trade mags that I never got around to reading, thank-you cards, invitations, etc etc etc. I was saving it for a rainy day.

Today was that rainy day.

And now I have nothing to do.

And now that my inbox is empty, it proves to the passerby that I had time on my hands. Enough time to clean out an inbox. That’s a lot of time.

And there it sits.

Empty.

And here I sit.

With nothing to do.

Talk about make-work projects.

I’m re-writing a colleagues information package. And her job is extremely boring, so you can just bet how exciting the task-at-hand is for me.

Yawn.

But better than staring out the window. No, that wouldn’t go over very well. And I’m too scared to play on the internet after the article in the local paper last week about companies installing SpyWare to spy on their employees and the sites that they visit. So much for Facebook. So much for Blogger. So much for gmail, hotmail, yahoo mail. So much for Socialitelife. So much for redactedblog. And (egad) so much for overheardinnewyork.

Yes, yes. There’s always surfing from home. But by the time I get there, I’m absolutely exhausted and can’t even muster up the energy to turn the bloody thing on. It’s all I can do to crack a beer or pop a cork. Sometimes I’m even too tired to get out of my work clothes until I gather enough energy to go from couch to bedroom, usually around 10:30.

Perhaps I’ll tackle one of my filing cabinets and weed out unnecessries.

***
My OBGYN should be calling me later today to discuss test results. Not sure which ones; the extensive bloodwork I had, the bloodwork the Husband had, or the genetics from the baby. Or perhaps all of the above.

***
Went to The Rapist thismorning. Good news?

1. The only thing that’s wrong with me is grief.

2. I don’t have to see her again,unless I want to. Ie: next time I get pregnant, if I’m having a hard time with the fear again. And the shame.

3. Most importantly, what made my three visits all worth while: the baby did NOT feel any pain when he died. At 14 weeks, the nerves aren’t completely formed in it’s little brain, so it did not know it was dying, and it did not feel any pain.

(Bullshit. I think he knew he was dying, but he didn’t physically feel it. But that’s just me. That’s just what I believe. Or not. I don’t know.)

Oh God, here come the tears again.

Urs.

I'm Rudolph Valentino pull up in my limosino.

Couldn't help it. It's on the radio right now. And how I LOVE that song.

You know some days when you just want to punch someone in the face?

This is one of those days.

But I throw things not punches.

And only when I'm super mad. And not at people, just in their general direction. And I don't want to actually hit them, just get my message across. What message my cheque book carries, or my keys, or a piece of lint, I don't know.

Can you imagine though? Just walking up to someone who is pissing you off, and just hauling back and punching them in the face? Not slapping, no no, too soap-opera-ish, but a real punch. Just standing right there in front of them, pulling your fist back, and sending it toward their face with the intent to actually hit them. Not necessarily do harm. Just punch them.

I'm just not that kind of person. I do damage to myself instead. I beat myself up instead. Mentally. Emotionally. Those nasty thoughts come into my head, "Urs, you are a bitch." "Urs, this is YOUR fault." "Urs, they wouldn't be pissing you off if only you were a better person, employee, listener, wife..." The list goes on.

So instead of throwing a punch, I casually walk away, back to my task at hand, job, room, car (the list goes on), and beat myself up and think I'm an idiot, dumb, sucker...

The list goes on.

Urs.

Busy

Busy Busy.

Busy Busy Busy.

So much to tell, I do hope I remember it all.

See you shortly.

Urs.

Lifesaver

She just may have saved my life.

I'm terrified of walk-in freezers. I know, I know, crazy. But really, I have a phobia about them. I don't like walking in them. For two reasons:

1. Shoes and food should not be together. Under no circumstances should shoes (hello... inside said shoes are FEET, people. And after any amount of time in shoes, FEET aren't nice) be anywhere around FOOD.
2. I think I'm a closet claustrophobic. No pun intended. I really think I'm claustrophobic. But only when it comes to walk-in freezers.

When I'm too cheap to pay a buck for a pop in the lunchroom, I dash downstairs to the catering departments freezers and scope around for pop. And so I have to go to the walk-in. It's terrifying to me. Yes, #'s 1 and 2 are dreadful enough, but WHAT IF THE FREEZER CLOSES BEHIND ME AND I DIE IN THERE?

Seriously, I think she saved my life.

Urs.

It was my period.

Sadness with that.

But a bit of relief too.

And sadness again because of that.

I have to get through my grief, I have to clear those blocks, before I can focus on a pregnancy again. So I'm not terrified every step of the way.

Again.
***********
The Husband and I fought chatted the other night. I told him I missed him. That I want to actually spend time with him. Do things together. Stop living seperate lives. To grow together, not seperately.

Out of the blue, he gets up at 10am thismorning all ready to spend the day with me, His Wife.

But I'm not ready! I want to clean the house! Drink tea! Relax! Catch up on phone calls! And now he's all showered and ready to bond.

And I'm not ready. How awful is that.

He changed the rules and didn't tell me.

Shit.

So I put the rubber gloves away. Have a shower. Turn off the computer. And off we go.

To bond.

Urs.

Wait just a second.

What if it's not my period?

What if it's implantation bleeding?

It didn't happen on my second pregnancy, but it did on my first.

Hope!

***********************

But does hope get you out of hopelessness?

No.

Hope, I dare say, is just a little town in Canada.

But Hope is getting me through the evening right now. Hope is what I have at the moment.

Hope.

Urs.

Despair

It's not hard to fall into it.

But bloody hell if it isn't hard to crawl out of.

Despair is a battle. You don't always know you're in it, let alone battling to get out of it, but that's exactly what's going on.

Forgetting who I am. Forgetting that I'm a warrior. Forgetting that I've battled much stronger people, issues, problems, than this. That was just a little pebble the universe showed me to point me in the right direction. To remind me that it's a battle. It can be difficult.

But it's only despair. It's just an act in a play against this interesting stage that is life.

I can get out of it. I can focus. I can calm myself down. I can Be. I can overcome. I can remember who I am. That? Will get me out of it.

And so I feel free, I feel better, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I know, I KNOW, that this too shall pass.

And then I get my period.

And despair sticks to me again. I feel the spiral. I feel the sadness. I feel the hopelessness.

And so I hold to the fact that it's despair. It's just despair. Yet it's such a huge battle. But really, it's just despair.

So now that I recognize that, I know what I'm dealing with. I know how to get out of it.

You know when you enter a dark room, there's no light, you don't know what's in there - what lies ahead, especially if you've never been there before.

What do you do?

You turn on a light.

Illuminate it so you can see it.

And then? It's not dark anymore.

Where there's light, there can be no dark.

So, sadness with the period, yes.

But at least I'm getting one.

Perhaps next month. Perhaps next month I'll have the opportunity to pee on a stick.

And see two pink stripes.

Urs.

Be careful what you wish for.

I was waiting to see it. I lined up for this! I bought popcorn! I've been waiting for TWO YEARS.

And so she showed me.

I was waiting, I was practically BEGGING to see it. And so she showed it to me. And so I saw it.

And promptly ran away with tale between legs.

Hilarious!

This gives me more ammunition to stalk myself. To buck the fuck up. To get back on track.

Good times.

Urs.

Where Am I?

Seriously.

Where am I?

Where's the me that used to be? The fantastic lass. The life of the party. The gorgeous woman. The kind lady. The courteous and consciencious person. The No Fear gal. The Bring It On! The calm and centered. The one who had the ability to focus, to assess, to hold.

The impeccable warrior.

Where did she go?

Because now, she seems like a messy puddle on the floor. Of worry. Of grief. Of anger and angst. Of confrontation. Afraid of confrontation. Afraid to stand up for herself; instead, standing to the side, watching herself be bullied and bitten and kicked and stepped on. Of taking shit, instead of standing up for those who are given shit. Such as I'm being given shit lately.

What the fuck happened?

Yes, the Hateful Bitch reared her ugly head.

After two years of wondering when her real colours would show, they showed.

And now I'm afraid to rock the boat, when that's what I LIVED for! I loved pushing the envelope. Not in a harmful way, but a gentle way (ie: Castenada). In the way that would bring out the best in people. Would make them see that they're bigger and more beautiful and bolder than they ever thought possible.

Now?

I'm too fucked up to give a care.

I just think that a switch went off. A light was dimmed.

My light was dimmed.

And I don't know when it happened.

Was it when I got married? Was it when I lost the first baby? Or was it the second? Or was it just recently? Did I give up? What the fuck is going on?

I miss me. I miss the old me. I miss the me that would still hold my head high, hold on to my impeccability, even when people are trying to drag me back into their shit. The shit. I feel like I finally got out of the vat of shit and could see clearly and could continue with clarity.

Now?

Not so much.

But there's always controlled folly.

Urs.

The Rapist

I went to a new doctor today.

Didn't know she was a therapist.

ther-a-pist.

the-rapist.

I never thought I'd be seeing someone with the word "rape" in their title. It's rather scarey, no?

So, back to this appointment.

After my last loss, my OBGYN referred me to another doctor for a visit.

I thought she/he would be wanting to see me for physical reasons. To chat about what happened, gather info, and talk to me about why it might have happened and perhaps to fill me in on what may happen next.

That's just what I assumed.

I never thought in a million years I would hear at the end of my appointment, "well, you don't need medication, but I'd like you to come back next week to chat further".

Fuck.

When I got in there, she met me in the lobby and then walked me to her office. Upon entering, I did not see the bed thing with stirrups. I saw a couch, two nice chairs, her desk, clocks everywhere, and a lovely arrangement of lillies.

That's when I knew this wasn't a physical.

But hey, I'll take all the healing I can get. So I sat down in one of the nice chairs.

And the tears started.

I have, really, nobody to talk to about the loss. My best friend is pregnant too. We ended up pregnant at the same time. There's NO WAY I'm talking to her about losing the baby. Come on.

My mother? 4000 miles away. And when I DID try to talk to her, just after it happened, she harped on me to go back to work right away.

The Husband?

Doesn't talk about it.

So I have all these emotions, apparently, bottled up inside and so she asked me one simple question (who my family doctor is) and I started bawling.

Quite funny actually, but uncomfortable all the same.

It didn't help. I left more shattered than I've felt in a long time. I was gloomy for the rest of the day. Went to a dentist appointment afterwards and was still teary-eyed.

Went for a hair appointment after that and ended up crying while being rinsed.

Went to the fucking inlaws' for supper and wanted to scream bloody murder at them...but they don't understand english so I wouldn't quite get the effect I was after. (I just realized, as I was searching my blog to link to the "fucking inlaws" that I didn't tell you what happened when we announced the pregnancy to them. That, my friends, is worth the "fucking" before the "inlaws". Perhaps another day...)

So here I am.

Having a glass of rum and not knowing what to do with myself.

Urs.

Mind. Body.

I find it extremely interesting that my back only flares up when I’m around stress.

I got in a major accident and have a soft tissue injury (so they tell me) and it hurt for about two weeks and then it stopped.

Except when I’m around people I don’t like (ie: uncomfortable), and when I walk into my office building (ie: hateful bitch).

Interesting, no? The link between feelings and emotions, and physical pain. Pain manifested in the body. In the small of my back, and my lower back. What’s that area linked to, anyone know? (for example, the lungs are linked with grief, the thyroid is linked with psychic abilities, etc etc).

What’s the universe trying to tell me?

Get a new job, Ursula, get a new job!

But I plan on having a baby next year. How would that look, starting a new job only to announce your pregnancy a few weeks later (someone did it at my workplace - it left a bad taste).

Anyway, this is just one more thing for me to figure out.

Starting with the mind/body connection.

Urs.

Sigh.

A sigh of relief.

It's done. It's over. It's finished.

I made it through Thanksgiving dinner with the people I don't like.

Wasn't too bad once I got drunk.

Urs.

Gobble Gobble

We're having Thanksgiving dinner at a friend's thisevening.

And I don't like any of them.

Especially the host.

There, I said it. Outloud. I don't like the host. I don't like the host. I don't like the host. And I'm tired of feigning interest in his life. I'm tired of listening to him drone on and on and ON about his work life. About how busy he is. How important he is. Jesus christ, shut the fuck up already.

But off we go. And pretend to enjoy his little stories. Pretend that he's the funniest person on earth. Pretend that he's doing us all a favour by hosting Thanskgiving. Pretend that we're grateful to him for all the work he's put into it. Pretend he's the most generous man we've ever met, for putting dinner on.

Fuck off already.

So I plan on drinking my face off.

To make him interesting.

Urs.

Hiding in my skin

There’s a job opening at a local association that has my name ALL OVER IT. It’s in the film industry, a non-profit organization, full time management position, organizing film-related events and liaising with all aspects of the industry, reporting to a board of directors, network network network. Yada yada yada.

I know the lady that used to do it. I know the hurdles she faced. I know the progress she made.

I know the players.

I know the job.

Yet I’m hesitant to approach them. I can do the job blindfolded, that’s a non-issue. It’s just that it’s a highly visible position. I mean I’d be OUT there. Every move I made, every decision I came to, my every word to the media… it's so visible.

Every mistake I made, would be out there for all to judge.

It’s terrifying.

So here I sit. Reading over the job posting. Knowing that I can totally do it. Yet terrified to take that step.

Why would I rather stay at my current job, which is getting stickier and stickier every day?

Great pay. Great vacation. Great flexibility (or USED to). Fun place, overall. Great people, generally.

But it’s time to move on. And not just because of Hateful Bitch, but because I’ve done what I came to do. I’ve reached the place I wanted to reach here. I’ve reached the goals I had in mind for myself when I took this position.

I’ve maxed out my salary.

And yet it’s bad timing. I’m trying to have a baby. I’ll hopefully be pregnant very very soon, and so will be taking mat leave by next July or so. It would be in bad taste to take a new job and not even be in it for a year before taking leave for a year.

So here I sit.

Reading over the job posting.

Urs.

Helpful to Hurtful

I've been through hell this year.

Actually, been to hell and BACK. (Not sure if I'm really back yet honestly, but I digress.)

My boss?

"If there's anything I can do, just let me know."
"Take your time with the healing."
"Take all the time you need to get better. Your health should be the most important thing on your mind right now."
"Getting better is your focus. Don't worry about things here, we all have your back."
"I'm here, if you ever need help, or just an ear."

This was last January and again this past July. (I haven't really spoken much to her since my accident last month because she was out of town.)

Fast forward to yesterday afternoon at 4pm. She totally reams me out for going to a massage appointment during working hours (even though she had just been to the dentist THAT MORNING during working hours) (!!).

"For five years I have not taken any personal appointments during office hours. I have ALWAYS scheduled them around my work day. Today was another story. I am in so much back pain from my accident that I can hardly think. I barely made it in thismorning. I took the appointment that was available to avoid further pain, bitch" (ok, so I didn't say Bitch).

"Well from now on make your appointments before or after work, on your own time."

Listen lady, I'm not twelve fucking years old and trying to get out of going to school. I'm not 19 years old and partying in bars and lying to get out of work becuase I'm hungover from the night before. I'm not milking any system here. I'm looking after myself.

Hateful bitch.

Urs.

Ernie and Bert

They had each other.

They always had each other. No matter what happened, they would be there for each other.

I don't have that, with anyone. I have two really close friends, but they're at a time in their lives where they are focussed on themselves. Which is great, for them. Their lives are moving forward in fantastic ways.

I need a friend whom I can call up and say, "Hey, why don't we get together for brunch on Saturday." Or, "Hey, what are you doing Tuesday night? Wanna catch a flick?".

And in return they'll say, Sure! Or, "I'm busy on Tuesday, how about Thursday?". Instead of requiring a month's notice to get together.

Basically, I need more friends.

So I'm on the hunt. For more friends.

I'm going to sign up at a local community centre for yoga classes. Perhaps I'll make friends there.

I used to have tonnes of friends! Always something to do. People to see. Dinners to have.

I miss the old me.

Urs.

With a capital B

I'm bored.

I haven't been bored since I was a teenager. Yet, here I am on a Saturday night, Bored.

The Husband is off to some football betting thing. I'm sitting here with nothing to do. I have the rental car still, I could motor around. But it's pissing rain and I don't feel like leaving the house.

I could clean the house, but that's even more boring that I'm feeling right now.

We made it through car-shopping today without a fight. That's a good sign. Didn't find anything. Not liking what's out there, really. Off we go again tomorrow.

I COULD surf the net and research cars, but it's very daunting since I've never done it before. And frustrating....for the same reason.

Perhaps it's jammy time and I'll watch Top Chef.

Urs.

Easy Ridin'

The Husband and myself are going car shopping thisafternoon.

Hope it goes smoothly.

Because nothing ever does with us.

Every time we are making a "large ticket item" purchase, we fight like cats and dogs.

The wedding? $30,000.00. We fought from beginning to end (not to mention that it wasn't the wedding I wanted. I really didn't like it much. Except for the fact that I married the love of my life. That part, I liked.)

The house? $630,000.00. Horrendous experience. Horrendous. But we loved the house. I just didn't like the fact that he got $25,000.00 from his parents without discussing it with me. Especially seeing as I do NOT have a good relationship with them. Actually I have NO relationship with them. (On the flip side, you could say we have a fabulous relationship seeing as they don't speak English.)

And now a car. We're probably looking in the $40,000.00 range. And the car is for me, not him. I'm already envisioning a nightmare. We just don't get along when we're faced with major decisions. I feel like he thinks it's "his way or the highway", because he's better at finances than I am. It's just not my thing. He also comes across that he gets more say because he makes more money than I do. The whole "bring home the bacon" thing.

He only makes $8,500.00 more than me. Really, that's not that much.

Here we go.

I shall report back.

Urs.

I'm just sayin'.

So, you tell me that you have something very important to do for the Office of the President, therefore you cannot get to my items until tomorrow.

And yet you sit in your pal's office for 45 minutes talking about the traffic on the way in thismorning.

Uh, yeah.

I'm just sayin'.

Urs.

As I get older, I feel more inferior.

My self-esteem plummets.

I feel as though I'm stupid. Or at least not as smart as the person next to me... at most times.

I feel as though my value as a human being declines.

As though if I wasn't here, nobody would miss me. Again, as though I have no value.

I'm not important in the big picture. I have yet to find my reason for being. I'm not a spectacular person. I believe I USED to be. But no more.

I find myself boring. Sometimes even, a waste of skin. A waste of breath. A waste of attention.

You'd think I'd have learned something potent, with the two failed pregnancies and, most recently, the major car accident.

But no, I haven't seen the reason for it all.

Yet.

Perhaps I will. Perhaps the lesson I was to learn will unveil itself.

Or not.

I sometimes feel as though I'm a minor hiccup in The Husband's life. Or a major hiccup, depending on the day.

For the most part, I feel as though I fucked up his life.

By just being.

I feel as though he really wanted to get married. And I just happened to be the gal that was in his life at the time. I don't necessarily believe that I'm the person he really wanted to marry. Not that there was anyone else, but I was the one that was there. I know that he wouldn't have chosen me in a million years. He would never had hunted me down and declared his undying love and begged me to marry him. He would have chosen someone more safe. Someone more like him.

Someone chinese.

But he got me. HE asked me. And I said yes.

Because I'm head over heels in love with him.

He's not the one I would have ever pictured myself with either. First of all, I never thought I'd GET married. I didn't want to get married.

And then he came into my life.

And I fell in love.

Head over heels.

In love with this man.

And yet I feel so small in our marriage. In our relationship. As a wife. As a twice-failed mother-to-be.

As a person.

As a human being.

I peed on the stick last night. Wondering.

Wondering if we happened to get pregnant between my fucked up periods since the procedure.

It was negative.

And I'm glad.

I'm getting older. I'm getting to the point where it may become difficult to get pregnant. We're aging. We want a baby, almost desperately.

Almost.

Yet I'm grateful that it came back negative.

I realize that we have alot of work to do, for US, before we can bring a child, or two, into this relationship. Into our marriage. Into our life.

I've got to learn that I do have value.

That I'm not stupid.

Get my self-esteem back (I used to be Fabulous).

I've got to stop feeling so damned inferior.

To him.

Urs.

We're off to gather paint samples.

The In-Laws are telling me I have to paint over a red wall I have in my basement. They tell me that's why I've had such a bad year. Two miscarriages and a car accident on Thursday.

Jesus Christ.

But, I'm tired of the arguements. I'm tired of them harping on me. I'm painting the fucking wall. I told my sister-in-law (the oldest in the family) that I think she's crazy and I laughed my head off, but that I'd make her a deal: I'd paint over the red in the basement, but I'm painting a wall upstairs red.

I was greeted with silence.

She was telling me that a red wall in the basement is like walking down to Hell. When in reality, walking into The Husband's Mother's house is like walking into hell. However, I digress....

Anyhoo, I probably won't paint a wall upstairs, but this had better be the end of it.

I'm not sure if I'm going to say anything to them or not, but it actually all started with The Husband's Mother taking a piece of my clothing and burning incense over it and putting prayers into it. The first time she did this I got strepp throat. The second time, I had my first miscarriage. Then my second. And now the car accident.

Not so sure it's the colour of my wall that's causing this. Could be the bad mojo from The Husband's Mother (I refuse to call her my mother-in-law).

I've got to buck up and be strong around this nasty woman so her bad mojo doesn't permiate my home anymore.

Urs.

I pick and choose my facebook friends by their status.

If it's lame, I remove them from my friends list. If their status annoys me, I immediately delete them completely.

I'm a facebook snob.

Urs.

Years ago, when I was in the telecom industry, we had a team-building afternoon.

First off, we had a fella come in and talk to us about stress. He was talking about mice. He was asking us which mouse would be under more stress; the mouse that had advanced notice that it would be shocked (yeah I know, nice hey?), or the mouse that had no warning whatsoever.

My answer?

"Who cares, they're mice."

Fast forward eleven years.

I'm on my patio, having a glass of wine. Flip flops on. Sitting in a plastic patio chair.

Each time I get up to go in the house, I grab the doorknob, and get shocked. A little shock hits me. It's annoying as hell. And it hurts.

So now, every time I get up to go indoors, I'm STRESSED to the max, knowing that I'm going to get shocked.

Just now, I stood there for a minute and a half, afraid to touch the doorknob. Looking like a complete spaz. Afraid to enter my own house. Full well knowing that the pain will only last a millisecond. Yet completely frozen, afraid to touch the doorknob.

I shall begin my own experiment.

First thing? No flip flops.

I shall report back.

Urs.

Is it irresponsible to throw caution to the wind?

The Husband and I have decided to let things happen as they may. The bigges thing I've learned since having two failed pregnancies (especially the last one, as it was a baby. It was a little person. Not a mass of cells. A baby.), is that there is nothing in this world you can control, except your own actions.

Everything is much bigger than you. No matter how hard you try, no matter that you do everything right, things are out of your control.

The wonder of life. Absolutly out of your control.

So, we can wait until the test results from the baby come back. We can wait until our bloodtest results come back. We can live in fear that there is something horribly wrong with us. With me.

Or we can totally believe in the wonder of life. We can totally believe in nature. We can ebb and we can flow.

Or we can live in fear.

I'm not one to live in fear.

So we are letting things happen as they may. Naturally. We are not trying out of desperation. We are not trying by watching the calendar, watching my cycle, waiting and watching for the perfect fertility days. We are just being.

My last cycle was wonky becuase, I suppose, of the D&C. It was two days of heavy heavy flow, then nothing for four days, then a bit of spotting. I'm a pretty regular girl. So it was way off.

Yet we had unprotected sex. And it turned out to be during the "perfect fertility days". Was that irresponsible? What if the test results come back that we can never carry a normal, healthy baby? What if there is something so fucked up that we will always miscarry? What if. What if, what if? Was it being irresponsible that we may very well have gotten pregnant, god, I could be pregnant now for crying out loud, and the little one will be horribly deformed and abnormal, becuase we didn't wait for the test results that would have told us exactly this?

I don't want to put that out there, however the fear creeps in. The fear that, what if we ARE pregnant already and it will not be "normal" and I've possibly just started the process of bringing a being into this world that doesn't stand a chance, chromosomally?

What if?

Or what if it is what it is. What if nature is as it is. What if there is absolutely nothing I could ever do to ensure our baby will be born normal, healthy, happy.

So what if?

What if we get pregnant, or we ARE pregnant, and everything is as it should be and we have a normal, healthy, happy baby. See? What if?

We ebb and we flow.

We've decided to Just Be. To trust. To trust that the plans for us are greater than we are.

And that it will be as it will be.

Urs.

I miss you. I miss you so much, my little one.

My little boy.

I miss waking up each morning absolutely delighted that it's another day and that you're growing in leaps and bounds. I miss the feeling of having you with me. I miss the feelings of awe and wonderment and joy of knowing that you're another day older. Another day closer to coming into this world, another day closer to meeting you, to seeing you for the first time. My child.

My little boy.

Do you know that you recognized my voice? That you recognized your father's voice?

I remember when it happened. I was in a meeting and your father was talking. And at that exact moment, I knew that you recognized him.

As your father.

You responded to the sound of his voice.

I cried a little right then and there, knowing that.

Do you know that you already had fingerprints? You already had an identity. No matter where you were in the world, you'd be known. You'd be recognized. You had fingerprints. You could be found. And taken care of.

And loved.

Do you know that when I pressed into my belly you would snuggle up to that same area? You responded to me.

Your mother.

You loved me already. As I did you.

Every morning I would tune to you. I would send you millions of tendrils of love. There was an energetic beam, millions of energetic beams that I would send you. Beams of unconditional love, of love and protection. And you know what? Each and every time I did that, each and every time I made that heart connection with you, you would respond. You would move.

And I could feel those movements. And you were my child. And you would respond to that love I was sending you and you would love me back in the only way you could and such a young age.

Pre-birth.

And I carry you with me. You're always with me.

And I so miss you.

I miss having you in my womb. And taking care of you the best I could. Eating the right foods. Taking it easy - I was carrying special, and fragile, cargo! Loving you. Talking to you. Caring for you.

Loving you.

Did you feel pain when your little heart was stopping? Did you know you were dying? Did you struggle? Did you hurt? Were you scared? Was it frightening?

I wish I had known. I wish I could have stopped it. I wish so many things. I wish that my body had cooperated with my heart. I wish that I had a signal of what was happening so I could do something. I wish I could have stopped it. I wish that you were still with me. Still growing inside of me. You magical little boy.

There is not a moment that goes by that you're not with me. Sometimes I still put my hand on my belly to feel close to you. I do miss you so.

Things are not the same without you. A piece of me went with you. Nobody can tell.

Except me.

I'm not the same.

I lost you.

My little boy. My love. My precious little one.

Will you come back? Or will you be watching over me?

I know you are safe now. I know you will not know struggle. You will not ever again know heartbreak. Your little heart will forever beat now, safely.

I love you so much. I miss you terribly. It was an honour to have you with me, inside of me, even for such a short time. Thank you for choosing me as your mother.

A part of me feels as though I failed you... I'm so incredibly sorry. I did try. I tried so much to make sure you were safe.

My body failed me.

My body failed you.

Know that you were loved. Know that you still are loved. Know that you were my child. You were my baby. You had a family that was so happy to have you coming to us.

Every single moment is cherished, is etched in my memory, in my consciousness, in my body.

Urs.

Sporunking the Forinkers

We had a bbq last night to welcome by little brother back to town after being at sea for 4 months. He has decided to stay in the city and settle down, not to return to sea. Must be really happening as he moved his girlfriend up from Chile. He’s getting serious, I do believe, and wanting to put down roots. Good for him. And she’s fantastic. And Spanish. And there is a bit of a language barrier as she has a very thick Spanish accent and is still learning words. Words such as pendulum. Sponsoring. Sprinkler. And the list goes on. It’s very funny and she has a good time with it as well.

Sporunking the Forinkers. That is what I heard come out of her mouth when talking about employment opportunities for her. I had mentioned a bartending job that I had heard of.

“But does he sporunk forinkers?”

I'm sorry, what was that?

“Does he sporunk forinkers?”

Sporunk Forinkers?

“What did you say, Ursula?”

Sporunk Forinkers?

Amid much laughter on everyone's part... "NO. Sponsor Foreigners."

Oh. Sorry. Ooops.

So this is her introduction to the family. Me not understanding what she’s saying.

And then taking her toilet-papering.

Yes, we went toilet-papering. A guy I sometimes work with lives a few blocks from me and it was his 40th, so off we went with a 24-pack of Purelle at midnight.

Good times in the summer.

Urs.

Disaster.

I'm horrified. I'm terrified.

Had a D&C a week ago today. Called my OBGYN the next day and made an appointment for September, as she asked me to before going under.

Got home today to a voicemail saying it's the doctors office and they have an appointment for me.

WHAT?

But I already have an appointment. Why do they want to see me again? What the hell is going on? Do they have horrific news for me? Did something happen during the D&C to make them call me, now that my doctor is back from vacation, and make them want to see me right away? Did they find something out of the ordinary during the procedure that they have to inform me of earlier than my September appointment? Did they find cancer or something? Did something go horribly wrong while I was on the operating table?

Or was it just a blooper on the receptionists part and she forgot that we've already booked an appointment?

What the fuck is going on?

I'm completely freaking out here. I don't know what the fuck is going on. They were sending it for genetic testing because it was over 10 weeks. I was told the results wouldn't be back for three months or so. I put it out to the universe that the results would come back WAY sooner.... is it possible that it actually happened? That the results came back in less than a week?

Or did they find something horribly wrong. Is something deadly happening?

What the fuck?

Urs.

Thismorning I woke up with cramps, thought everything was about to start happening, but they've since subsided. What do I have to do to get this going?

I know the answer is nothing. I know the answer is to let my body take control here. It's just so difficult because I'm a "take-control" kind of person. And there is absolutely nothing I can do but wait.

So yesterday I went through all of my books. Set up our new bookshelf. Put others aside for donation. Today? Going through the storage room. Will try to organize that mess. I bought a closet organizer about two months ago, perhaps I'll attempt to put that together.

I've pulled out a recipe book as well. Perhaps I'll prepare a nice meal for my husband.

There's lots of weeding to do in the yard (the grapes are out of control), but it's raining so I don't really want to do that today. Maybe tomorrow. If still nothing has happened.

On another note, kiddy-corner to me are some new people to the neighbourhood. I almost passed out when I saw the lady for the first time on her back porch.

She's a spitting image of my mother-in-law. Otherwise known from here on out as My Husband's Mother. No, she doesn't even deserve a capital letter on that. My Husband's mother with a little m. Better.

Now I'll be faced with THAT everytime I walk onto my deck.

Lovely.

Urs.

Where to start?

The baby has died and I'm sitting here waiting for the bleeding to start. Waiting for my body to do it's job. And it's not happening.

The doctor tells me I have another 7 - 10 days (well, 6 days left) and if nothing happens, no cramping or bleeding, I'll have to have a D&C. I would prefer that it happens naturally, but if it doesn't then I'll go for the procedure. I went for accupuncture yesterday to see if that would help. So far, nothing. I had cramping last night, more severe than I have been having (a bit now and then), but thismorning? Nothing. Only light, very light, bleeding. And more brown than red.

So I wait.

And I grieve.

I try to grieve.

It's just surreal, knowing that our baby died and is still inside of me.

I was at 14 weeks, 3 days. It should have been the size of 1/2 a banana. It was only at 3.8 centimetres. It measured 10 weeks 3 days.

So, A) it died the day after I heard it's heartbeat, or B) it died around 12 or 13 weeks and had already broken down to that size.

Unbelievable. Utterley unbelievable. I'm numb. Perhaps that's why I'm having a difficult time with the grieving process. That and the fact that nothing is happening yet. It's hard to grieve when you do not have any proof that there is a need to grieve. Other than a picture of an ultrasound. It's hard to explain, but I could tell by the picture that there was no life there.

So I broke down at the clinic. Talked to the doctor on duty about what may happen next (it's all a blur so I went to a doctor the next day), came home and put away the gifts, cards, and books. (We had begun to choose names.)

And here I sit.

Waiting.

Urs.

I was at a wedding on Saturday.

It was hilarious.

Talk about tacky wedding guests. Seriously white trash. Hilarious!

I've never seen such big hair. Not Texas big. Not 80's big. Just White-Trash big.

I've never seen such short dresses. Ladies, they're tops, not dresses.

I've never seen such high shoes. And not nice high shoes. Hooker shoes. Seriously, they were all wearing Hooker shoes.

I've never heard such foul language come from women. Tacky tacky tacky. (And I swear. And yet I was appalled at the language!)

And as the night wore on and they got drunker, it was just a disaster. They were tripping over their hooker shoes, their "dresses" were falling down, straps sliding off their shoulders, belts all askew (as were their hair and makeup). Just a freakin' disaster. I wouldn't be suprised to hear that after I left there was a huge cat-fight. That's how disgusting these "ladies" were.

But hilarious none the less.

Urs.

And again today, my eyes are wanting to close. It's only 3'oclock this time. God, I'm exhausted.

Could be the fact that, well, of course I'm pregnant. But also the fact that it's mid-summer and my house is BOILING. Can hardly sleep. It's awful. Wanting to buy a portable air conditioning unit to tie us over while we wait for our screens to arrive.

On another note. I am wearing my first piece of maternity clothing today. It's a gorgeous skirt, bright floral patterned. Yes, "bright floral patterned" sounds like something you'd see an old lady wearing on a Mad TV skit, but trust me, it's gorgeous. And flexible! And stretchy!

I don't really need mat clothes yet, I'm just a bit chunky, but it feels way better than trying to do up my pants when they are just that much too tight. It's just that much too difficult to do up the buttons or zippers. Mat clothes, on the other hand, are delightfully comfortable.

Perhaps that could be reason #3 why my eyes are closing.

I'm too damned comfortable!

Urs.

So maybe I spoke too quickly. I'm sitting here at my desk and I can hardly keep my eyes open.

Seriously, if I could just close them for 20 seconds, I'd be asleep.

Looking forward to getting home.

And having a nap.

Urs.

This must be the week that all the peeing starts.

Because I'm constantly going to the washroom. I'm also hungry all the time. A sandwich doesn't cut it. I need a sandwich and a salad and perhaps some cheese. Then I'm good until suppertime.

My energy has returned, which is GREAT. After work last night, I stopped at the hardware store to get some gardening supplies, got home, had a few slices of cheese and an avacado (the sandwich and cherries I had at lunch were not nearly enough), had an impromptu fashion show for my husband of all the new maternity clothes I bought at lunchtime, and went out and weeded the vegetable garden for two hours. Inside for supper, putted around the house, into bed around 10:30. It felt wonderful to be able to do all that again! To have energy! To come home and do things, not just lay down for a nap!

So the maternity clothes. I don't really need to wear them yet as I'm not huge or anything. But there are only two pairs of pants and 2 skirts that I can fit into comfortably right now. And this hot designer maternity store was having their summer sale ("Up to 80% off selected summer items!"), so I dashed in. I've got to tell you, the clothes are beautiful. And functional. And so incredibly comfortable. I can wear them already without looking like I'm wearing maternity clothes when I don't need to, you know? They'll grow with me. When I didn't believe the sales clerk that some items would fit me as I grow into the rest of the summer and early fall, she stuck the pregnancy pillow inside and wow! It works! Anyhoo, maternity clothes are the best kept secret. And I'm an extra small so there was lots to choose from. Good times. I love shopping.

Next is a bikini. I'm busting out of mine so it's time to buy a new one. Don't know whether I could possibly find a maternity one at this early stage, or if I should just buy a size up. The thing is, I'll be wearing it up to 21 weeks or so, so I'll be much much bigger by then. Hmmm. Perhaps I'll just ask the experts at the store and take it from there.

I love how good I'm feeling and how awake I am these days.

And the baby kicked! It felt like a little poke, but from the inside. It happened when I woke up in a fright the other night when my cat attacked me. Mom says I must have disturbed his/her sleep and it gave me a little kick! Pretty amazing.

Ok, so after all this, I definitly feel like I've had too much sugar and am ranting on and on and on.

I'm just so thrilled to have energy again!

Urs.

Morbidity

Had a dream last night that I was putting on a new dress I bought for a friends wedding (and it’s a gorgeous dress!) and when I was all together, shoes, purse, hair done, everything, my girlfriend looks at me and tells me there is blood on the dress and on my foot.

I look down and yes, there was lots of blood on my foot and a stain of it on my dress.

I was terrified I was miscarrying again. I looked at the bottom of my foot to see if I had been cut but I couldn’t quite tell. There seemed to be a little cut, but it might have been wishful thinking.

So thismorning in the shower, I broke down and started crying.

Last time I was pregnant I had a dream that I was at the house I grew up in and somebody was outside on my walkway with a bucket and I looked in and there was my miscarriage.

And about a week later, I started to miscarry.

I have a great book on dreams. I’m going to dig it out and search for blood and foot. I know dreams are pretty wild when you’re pregnant (at least mine have been), but my dreams always come true. I dream the future.

I’m terrified.

Urs.

The Drive-by

It's happened.

The Drive-By.

The Hand to the Stomach.

I didn't think it would start until I was really showing big time. But no. I just announced it yesterday so people are slowly trickling into my office to say congrats, etc etc etc.

And then she showed up. A gal from payroll. Lovely gal, really quite nice, however I hardly know her. "Congratulations", and the hand comes over to my bump. I tried to push her hand away, but SHE KEPT IT THERE. I couldn't believe it!

Hilarious!

Rude, but hilarious!

Urs.

What not to Wear Watch

Watching Supernanny when you're pregnant with your first is like watching Holmes on Homes when you've just bought a new house.

Ouch.

Urs.

Remind me not to talk to him again.

He's not your friend Ursula, he's a VP.

I've GOT to remember that. I can get carried away chatting with him because I like him so much. As a friend. And as a VP in the company I work for. But I really like him as a friend. We have a good friendship. Not spectacular. Not close, really. We don't hang out outside of work.

But we're friends.

And so we chat. And so we bitch. And we talk about our frustrations with our jobs.

And our bosses.

But my boss is a VP too. And my boss and him don't necessarily see eye to eye. And when I bitch about my boss to him, my friend, it's damaging to my boss. It's like ammunition for him. He could turn around and say, "your staff doesn't respect you", that kind of thing.

And, I mean, it wouldn't necessarily be a lie, but it doesn't have to be mentioned.

For the record, I respect my boss as a person, but not as a Vice President in this corporation. It's unfortunate, but true.

At this moment.

BUT, I was thinking last night while I was working a concert (had clients in) (it was a shitty concert so I had lots of time to think about other things as I wasn't watching the show) that perhaps I'm a bit jaded about my boss because of my friend, the other VP. Perhaps I've just been listening to him too long. Perhaps he's pulling me down into the shit that he's stuck in.

I came to the realization that yes, that's exactly what has happened.

He's down on the company lately because his staff tried to get him fired. His staff went to the president with a huge (years) list of complaints and issues and harrassment notes.

His staff tried to get him fired.

Nobody in my bosses 15 year history with this organization has ever tried to get him fired.

I do believe I was aligning with the wrong person. But I do like him as a person and as a friend, I just wouldn't want to work for him. And it's not that I was aligning with him to further my career or keep me safe, I just was attracted to his personality.

And so after all of this thinking last night, I woke up thismorning remembering my dream:

I'm in a hockey arena with my boss and the leader of the NHL team that plays there. The NHL leader is feeding us bullshit. I'm looking at my boss for leadership and don't feel that I'm getting any. I'm thinking he's being a wet noodle. I'm wanting him to stand up and not take this bullshit anymore. But he's not. I'm getting more frustrated and more frustrated by the second. Just before I'm about to scream at this NHL man, my boss comes out with a doozy and it pretty much knocks the other guy on his ass. It completely shuts him up and he realizes he doesn't have a leg to stand on anymore. His bullshit is over. The buck stops here.

And so I was extremely proud of my boss and of working for him.

It made me realize that he can steer the boat.

So I should get over myself, shut up and let him.

Urs.

Not that kind of Mommy.

So Stacey and I hit our first pre-natal yoga class last night. I'm the skinniest! YAY!

There are only about 10 of us there, 1 due in July, 4 due in August, the rest due in the fall, and one gal is due 4 days before me in January. So, I'm the "youngest" and skinniest.

Stace and I were the first to arrive. Put our mats down and were chattering away for a few minutes when others began to trickle in. Most of them knew each other from the last classes and were chit chatting. Then they zoned in on me and Stace. The newbies.

"What's your name?"

"You're tiny, you are starting early."

"When are you due?"

We were absolutely peppered with questions. Absolutely peppered. Remember, I'm only 12 weeks. I haven't discussed my pregnancy with anyone other than my husband, my mom, and my 3 closest friends.

I was extremely uncomfortable with the questions. It's like my private little world of the past 8 weeks is slowly disappearing. My little secret is now coming out in the open. I'll have to start talking about it with other people. Ewwww.

I'm a very private person. Very private. Extremely private. And now I'm being asked questions about a very private thing. And being given advice by people who don't know me but think there's this bond just because we have something in common. People get pregnant every day for crying out loud. It doesn't automatically make them bestest friends with other pregnant women.

God.

I already have a friend.

I don't need anymore.

I've better get used to this or it's going to be a really long 6 months.

Urs.

A little bit pregnant.

I am feeling SO pregnant today. Not fat. Not sore. Not tired. (Well, I am tired but it’s because I was at a wedding until late last night.)

Just pregnant.

Had an ultrasound last week to ensure that it's a viable pregnancy. I just want to make sure everything is good to go because last time it wasn't. That, and the fact that my doctor is giving up her practice to go into psychology and is writing referrals left, right and centre.

It was quite the experience really. I was nervous. I was very nervous. Last time I went the baby wasn’t there and I started to miscarry 2 days later.

This time?

Success!

Everything is right on track.

And it was jumping around! Hilarious! Amazing. Something only 1.2” long was jumping around!

And then, magic happened.

I heard the heartbeat.

162 bpm.

I heard it’s heartbeat.

Beautiful. Just beautiful.

This is when it sunk in. I saw the baby. I heard it's heartbeat. It was jumping around.

I really am pregnant. And it's progressing as it should. This is the moment I started to bond. I was too afraid to before. Just in case it wasn't there anymore. But now? I'm delighted! The Husband and myself are celebrating now. We're talking about it now. We're enjoying it now.

We have a baby on the way!

You always lose with Mr. Booze.

I used to think I was a mean drunk. Not all of the time, but some of the time. Usually when someone pissed me off. I was fine and dandy until something was said that irked me to no end. And then I’d say hateful things. Things that I would immediately regret. Things that I was totally feeling and thinking, but things that just didn’t need to be said outloud.

But now, since not drinking, I’ve come to realize that it’s not the booze. It’s me.

And when I say that I’ve come to realize, I actually mean that it’s been pointed out to me.

By my husband.

Saturday night on our way home from a birthday party we got into a tiff.

“I know I’m irritable and bitchy. I’m pregnant for crying out loud. Read up on the fucking symptoms, I’m supposed to be this way!”

“No, you were like this before becoming pregnant. You’ve ALWAYS been like this.”

Great. Now my husband is basically telling me that I’m a bitch.

So, I went to bed mad. Woke up at 6am to the FUCKING TENANT SNORING again, sad. And have been incredibly sad ever since.

If I’m this bad of a wife, what kind of mother am I going to be?

Urs.

Kinda Creepy.

Apparently I wasn't over-reacting.

When I told my Darling Husband about it, he freaked. As much as he freaks that is. (I'm the freaker-outer in the marriage.) He thought the same thing as I did... that mornings are for peace and quiet. So he was going to mention that night at poker not to do that again, just to call first. In the case that we're walking around naked for crying out loud.

Or just not wanting to be bothered.

Then I felt kind of bad, I didn't want to make a scene, I didn't want to hurt The Tenant's feelings, you know? I didn't want to make a mountain out of a molehill. Then I realized that I wasn't. The Husband was! Yay! It's all on him. Has nothing to do with me now. Good times.

Fast forward about 10 hours. It's after work now and about 1 hour before The Husband's weekly poker night with the boys. He tells me that Neal (tenant) got in an accident returning the rental car thismorning. He's 37 and hasn't driven since he got his license at 16. It freaks him out too much. I'm not sure if he got in an accident or what, when he was 16, but he doesn't drive. And yet he rented a car to move. And he didn't sleep all night. (I woke up at 6:30 to him moving stuff around in the basement suite... he stayed up all night doing this.) And so, at 10:30 in the morning returning the car... he fell asleep at the wheel and cruised into the back of a van.

Everyone involved is a.o.k.

But that really creeped me out.

A.) that he stayed up all night to unpack and move things around when he had two days off. Kinda weird.

B.) because he stayed up all night he fell asleep DRIVING. What an irresponsible move on his part. What a stupid decision.

What happens if he does the same thing, only next time in our basement with the stove on or something?

Scary.

Creepy actually.

Urs.

There's something in the walls.

So, I woke up thismorning at 6:30. Nothing unusual about that. Hit snooze to cop another ten.

That's when I heard it.

Scuffling. Scuffling and shuffling about. Oh My God, don't tell me there's something living in the freakin' walls of our new house.


And then I remembered.... our tenant moved into the basement suite last night. He was moving stuff around I guess. Getting settled.

It wasn't loud enough to wake me up, just keep me up.

Fast forward.

I finished my shower and was starting the coffee when there was a knock on the back door and a person peering through my kitchen window. Scared the bejeezus out of me for crying out loud. Then he tries the door!

I'm in my jammies. I'm pregnant and showing a month before we can even tell anyone. It's the freakin' morning for God sakes...I just want privacy and quiet.

So I shut off the alarm, put on my robe, and step outside.

He wants to know where the nearest grocery store is.

So I tell him and I give him the user manual for the washer and dryer.

It's fine that he's getting settled and everything and there will need to be a few things ironed out as he unpacks and organizes in our basement; in a new neighbourhood for him. So I'm not going to bitch. I'm not going to rant and rave. It was only a question. He needed to know, at 7am in the morning, where the closest grocery store was. So I won't say anything. I won't go off.

Really, I won't.

Urs.

Today? Not so good.

Today was the first day of my pregnancy that I have felt like shit.

8 weeks, 2 days.

Yes, there's the pregnancy brain. The absent-mindedness. On a daily basis. That's annoying, but it doesn't do anything to you physically.

But today! My God. I seriously felt like I was hit by a truck. Or that I was hungover. Or that I had just given up caffeine. I was off-kilter all day. Couldn't function until about 3pm. Really. Freakin'. Off.

You know when you're on your period and nothing looks good on you? And your hair doesn't want to cooperate? And you look exhausted and pasty? Like you've been hit by a truck?

That was my morning.

And to top it all off?

I'm showing.

At 8 weeks.

Showing!

I can't get over it. I didn't think I'd be showing at all until the end of June or so. The 2nd, or close to it, trimester. I never thought in a million years I'd be showing so early.

I have nothing to wear.

Urs.

Counting Sheep

Is so not necessary.

It's all I can do to keep my eyes open.

Seriously. About 2pm every day, I feel my eyes getting heavy. Really heavy. Really Really Heavy. If I closed them I'd be asleep in no time.

The thing is, my boss wouldn't take too kindly to sleeping on the job.

Fast forward to 4 hours later. I get home. I immediately sit down on the couch and fall asleep for about 20 minutes.

Fast forward to the weekends.

I simply can't stay awake. If I'm running around doing errards on Saturday, Sunday I'm on the couch all day absolutely exhausted. And thismorning? I woke up at 7am, got up, put the coffee on. Had my metamucil and prenatals. Made bran muffins (let's not even get started with the metamucil and bran muffins....). Had a shower. Got dressed. Sat on couch for a moment. That was 11am. It's now 7pm. I've barely moved. I feel like I've run a marathon and I haven't done anything.

Pregnacy is wild.

Urs.

Dream a little dream with me.

Weird and absurd dreams lately. Very vivid, very disturbing in some cases.

Had a few last night that were disturbing, but one that gave me great info. I was going for a job interview and it was a gong show. The gal that was interviewing me, left 1/2 way through and didn't come back for 20 minutes. She had gone to lunch! She was very unprofessional and very lazy.

I've been pissed at work lately and quite fed up with the place but this shows me to stay. There's not much else out there. It's all fucked up, no matter where you go.

Also that I'm pregnant and I've only got another 7 months then I'm on mat leave for a year.

Still no symptoms. The cramping has pretty much stopped. The boobs are tender and a bit sore, but nothing drastic. No acne. No stuffed-sausage feeling. Really, not much. I was absolutely exhausted for about a week, but that has passed. Really, the only thing alerting me to being pregnant is the fact that I didn't get my period. Very bizarre.

Saving lots of money not smoking or drinking though.

Urs.

Uh... Hello????

Is anybody in there?

What a piss off. So I headed off to a meeting thismorning. I went out the side door. The receptionist saw me heading out with my paperwork and keys in hand. I said see you later.

I get to the meeting and a colleage, Janice, shows up, "Anne Marie was looking for you, apparently a film client popped in to see you. She said she couldn't find you and she didn't know what to do so I told her that you'd be back in about 1/2 an hour."

Well, fuck, for two reasons.

1. How fucking stupid can you get? Ann Marie knows I have the same meeting every Thursday morning and have had it for 5 years. Also, did you ever fucking hear of cell phones?

2. How dare you, Janice, presume that I'd be back to the office directly after the meeting? I have Starbucks to go to and have to return a fertilizer spreader at the Home Depot.

It's not all about work you know.

Bad Ass

I picked a fight yesterday.

With my boss.

About vacation time.

It was great!

But I felt foolish and stupid the more I thought about it last night. Not very professional of me. Not very impeccable of me. Just pointless and childish. So enough of that.

On another note... I have serious pregnancy brain. I'm forgetting lots of stuff. I'm showing up for meetings that aren't until tomorrow. I'm a bit scattered to put it mildly. I was last time too.

The boobs? Not sore anymore. Seriously, I think they were only sore because I kept feeling them to see if they were sore. Cramping? Yeah, not so much. I have a bit of cramping for about 10-15 seconds a day. So that "symptom" has gone away too.

I do hope my boobs grow.

They were looking fabulous last time.

Urs.

Yawn...

Did I mention the need to nap twice a day? Like right now would be nice. But I'm at work (shhh).

Oh, and blemishes.

At least I think the blemishes are from the pregnancy. I don't usually get them. Then again, I don't usually eat take-out chicken, rice, or pasta either. Yes, that's what I've eaten the past 4 nights for supper. No wonder I'm breaking out. Must keep that in check! No more pasta unless I'm craving it for the baby!

Except for tonight. The darling Husband is drinking working on the basement with a friend and no time for cooking so it's take out pasta for din-din.

And last but not least, I'm feeling like a stuffed sausage. That's the first thing that alerted me to my last pregnancy. I love the feeling!

Delighted to be having symptoms finally!

Urs.

Finally, Symptoms!

Sore boobs. Cramping. Dizziness.

Yes!

Urs.

ps: very very excited about the pregnancy now. Started feeling positively elated last night. Good times!

For Shame

I'm not as excited about this pregnancy as I was the last.

I don't understand it.

We were trying to get pregnant. We got pregnant. I was ecstatic with the very thought of becoming pregnant again!

But when it happened, I was unsure with the outcome. I didn't really believe it. I was too scared to believe it. I told my doctor, when she confirmed it, that I was too nervous to be excited. I wanted to make sure and double make sure. I asked her to double check the results.

To be sure.

I had bloodtests Thursday and another Saturday to check that it's a viable pregnancy. That the hcg numbers are rising.

Perhaps then I'll be excited and happy? When I know that I'm not miscarrying like last time?

I feel shame around it. Shame around my attitude about it. Shame that I'm not wanting to scream it from a mountain top, like last time. Shame that I'm afraid to talk to it in case it's not there anymore, you know?

I've always jumped in with both feet. That's how I tackle life, just giving it my all. No matter if it's a job, a relationship, whatever. I totally jump in with everything I've got.

Right now it feels like I'm afraid to even get my toes wet.

Urs.

Two Pink Stripes

I'm pregnant! Found out for sure thismorning at home... will have the official word thisafternoon after my doctor's appointment!

Keep your fingers crossed that all is well. I'm a bit stressed out as I have no symptoms.

Remember... only put out what you want, not what you don't want.

Urs.

First Responders

First on the scene. Check out the lay of the land. Summarize what's going on. Make suggestions and recommend the next steps.

But what if it's kind of fuzzy? Well, not so much fuzzy as very very very faint. I mean, so faint that I thought there wasn't a line there when I walked into the bathroom to check (within the recommended time-frame), and when I picked it up and peered closer, there was the faint faint faint line.

Last time, there was definitely two lines, but one was quite faint. But still two lines. I tested a few hours later and the line was not as faint anymore.

This time, so faint as I said above. Could be one of three things:

• evaporation lines?

But I don't think so as I read the test at the three-minute mark as suggested. Same as last time.

• chemical pregnancy?

Possibly, I suppose. But if so, will my period come when it's supposed to, or will it just come when it comes? Whenever that is? (Argh.)

• testing too early?

Hard to say. I tested the day before my period was due (period due today and hasn't come yet which is weird for me as it's usually there when I wake up), so it should have shown a definite line if I'm pregnant, but if fertilization didn't happen until the last time we had sex (Apr 19) then is it simply too early to tell? After all, that would only be 11 days. Last time it was 18 days when I tested positive.

So here is what I'm going to do. See if my period comes today. If not, I'm buying a test tonight and giving it another go tomorrow morning.

It's just so weird right now. Usually by boobs are sore before my period. But they're not. Usually I have mild cramping the day before/morning of. This time? No cramps.

Same with last time I was pregnant, before I knew I was pregnant. I had sore boobs. Thought it was my period. I had cramping. Again, thought it was my period. The boobs were sore because I was pregnant, and the cramping started at implantation, and continued as my uterous stretched. So I didn't know I was pregnant, I thought it was just that my period was coming but this was happening earlier than normal; the soreness and cramping I mean.

Very confusing. And a bit stressful.

I am so not a patient woman.

Urs.

Breathe, Urs, Breathe

There was a time, not too long ago, where I would meditate twice a day. Once in the morning while waiting for my coffee to perk, and once in the evening before bedtime. My life was calm. I didn't get rattled very often. Stress was low. I handled things with ease. I was happy, pleasant, courteous and fair.

Now?

I have a client renting one of my locations for a commercial shoot.

She, apparently, is tightly wound and reactive. She jumped down my throat yesterday, freaking out about something that had an easy fix. I gave her options. She couldn't hear me in the mess she was in. The stress level was very high. She was freaking OUT. Anyway, to make a long story short, the issue was rectified (and I might add, the solution was one of the solutions I gave her that she was all NO NO NO, that WON'T do.), and all is good.

But I was rattled. Her freaking out on me really rattled my senses and made me second guess myself. Made me second guess the issue and our correspondence to date. Her freak out, I suppose, could have simply been a tactic to get what she wanted (I can't stand those type of people), but I don't think she's smart enough to use tactics. I think she was just being a bitch. (I rarely use that word, but this gal? Totally deserving of it.)

I had to go for a drive to calm down and try to get back in my body. I was second guessing my abilities to do my job for crying out loud. It's not her fault, she was just the actor in the play against the backdrop that is my life. That whole scene played out to show me where I'm wounded. Where I may be stuck, energetically. But wow, it was a pretty big scene.

So last night, after dinner at the in-laws, I decided that I would have a nice meditation before bed, and a nice meditation before work. Try to get back in the habit so I'm not thrown for a loop so often. So I can stay in my body and see clearly when these issues arise.

We got home and washed up. The Husband sat down to watch some movie on the telly and I put on my jammies, kissed him goodnight, walked in the room to meditate.

As soon as I was walking towards the bed, the thought completely left my mind and the normal bedtime habits crept in. Turn on Art Bell. Grab gardening mag. Lock cats out of room (one of them is very pesky and annoying at night) (Love her dearly, just not when she's eating my toes.). Fluff up pillow.

And so I did all that, shut off the light, and promptly fell asleep. Had wild dreams. Woke up. Forgot once again to meditate. Didn't even cross my mind.

And so driving in to work today, I was two streets away from my house and the first person flipped me off. About 20 seconds later, a second person flipped me off. And for nothing! I did not do anything! They're just road-ragers I guess. Construction going on. Pissed off miserable people.

And again, I was rattled.

Fuck. This is horrendous. I cannot go through life un-grounded and out of my body and second-guessing myself. It's dangerous. It's stressful.

Ommmmmm......

Urs.

Funny Tuesday

Funny, the President has insisted that I work with a few community people in bringing their events on site. I have to be pleasant, work closely with them, not charge them too much (well, not charge them at all), and pretty much listen to them whine and not know what they're doing.

The thing is,

I hate community events.

I hate whiners. I hate hearing people bicker over 500.00 200.00. If it's in the 10 thousands, let's talk. If it's in the hundrends, don't waste my fucking time.

Yet I have to grin and bear it.

God. Tedious. Awful. I'm used to dealing in the 400-500/600K range. Don't fucking bitch at me that it costs $100.00 to set up picnic tables.

Fuck off.

Funny, I thought I'd be delighted that we have a dishwasher in this new house. I am delighted. Just not so delighted to find out the hard way that certain items just don't survive going through the cycle. Really, just a few pieces of tupperware, my bbq tongs, a few nice non-sticks, easy things to pick up. Just annoying when you want to use them now only to remember they've bit the dust in last night's supper wash.

Anyhoo.

Much more important things to think about right now than broke non-profits and lost tupperware.... such as, am I pregnant? Will find out soon enough I suppose. Also, must fret about bathroom furniture seeing as we still have none. Not even a mirror for christ sake. But, The Husband is picking it all up tomorrow.

Now, if only he could stop the shower curtain from billowing.

Urs.

Playoff Fever

Seriously. Somebody please explain the physics behind this.

If it's on... I'll watch from the corner of my eye while in the midst of doing something else.

But tonight. Jeez. The Husband wasn't even home. He was with the boys watching on a big screen in some bar.

What do I do?

Get home from work. Crack a beer. Root through mail. Turn on the telly.

Officially glued to the game.

Outside for a smoke. 3rd period. 2:1. Peering through the screen door as to not miss a second.

Jesus Christ.

Global warming. The war in Iraq. Property tax hikes.

But all I care about is the semi-finals.

Urs.

What Odds?

So the cramping has stopped. I feel back to normal. Either I'm pregnant, or I'm not. Either way I'll find out in a few weeks. My next period is due May 1st. We'll see.

I had all these plans for today.

1. Clean bathroom.
2. Pot roast in slow cooker for dinner.
3. Watch Casino Royale.
4. Weed the vegetable garden.
5. Clean out the spare bedroom to fill it up again with storage items until the basement is finished.
6. Go to the garden centre to ask about moss killer and overseeding.
7. Prepare for a meeting tomorrow.
8. Prepare negotiations for another meeting tomorrow.

What I've managed to do? #'s 1 and 2.

I began #3 but the DVD wouldn't work for some reason.

#'s 4, 5 and 6 will have to wait until after supper this week.

#'s 7 and 8? Well, I'm better flying by the seat of my pants. That, and I really don't care to much about the outcome. Complacent, you ask?

Perhaps.

Urs.

Care to make a wager?

Bet you $100.00 right now that I'm pregnant.

It takes approximately 6-12 days for the fertilized egg to travel to the uterus, where it will then, hopefully, attached to the wall. Sometimes, with this, there is a bit of cramping and there may be spotting. That's what happened to me last time. It actually took 13 days to implant, and I did have the cramping and spotting. I thought my period was early, never dreamed I could have been pregnant.

So, it's day six right now. I have a bit of cramping.

I'm either pregnant, or completely obsessive.

Urs.

Come Again?

Just when you think you've totally fucked up, someone comes along and says,

"You were amazing".

Great.

I was this close to walking out. Seriously. This close. And then somebody had to come along and say how awesome I just was. How they wish they had the balls to stand up and not take the bull.

Shit.

Now I have to rethink everything.

Urs.

Hearing, not Listening

In a conference for the past couple of days. One more to go. Thought it was going well until the professor decides to chew me out. It wouldn't have been so bad if he had of just come right out and laid into me, but no, he chose to go about it passive-aggressively.

Either you're in or you're out. You go left or right. Things are right, or they're wrong. I can't stand people that do things half-assed.

Go big or Go home.

Urs.

Mr. Rogers

These are the people in your neighbourhood.

So, The Husband and I have recently moved into a wonderful old house we bought. Took possession March 9. Officially moved in March 27. Fast forward one week, it's Easter. 4-day weekend. Wee-Hoo.

Was outside doing the lawn, washing the deck, yada yada yada.

Met ALL the neighbours. Well, almost all. The ones whose homes back onto ours.

East of us is Shirley. About 75-80. Widowed. Has lived here since the early 50's. A lovely lovely lady. We chat over the fence quite often.

East of Shriley is Eda. Around the same age. No, perhaps early 70's. Widowed. Her MOM lives with her. How old is she, I wonder? Eda and her husband moved from Italy in 1949. The were one of the first people in the 'Hood. Not sure when her husband died.... but I can't get over the fact that her mom is still around. Gardening, walking around the neighbourhood - albeit, with a cane. She doesn't speak English, but she stops and chats nonetheless. (Kind of like my Lei Lei.... doesn't speak english either, but yatters away to me nonetheless. When the mood strikes her, that is.)

Eda saw me on my back patio and hailed me over with a wave. And proceeded to give me strawberry plants for my garden. Lovely woman. She's ALWAYS working in her garden. Just delightful.

Across the ally is Martin and Michelle. A chinese couple. No kids that I can see. Probably in their 40's (it is very hard to tell the age of Asian people... they look younger than they are. I'm speaking from my own personal experience, having married into an Asian family). I have not met Michelle, just Martin as we were both in our back yards doing work on the lawn. He apologized for the state of his fence (seeing as it's pretty much laying in the alley) and that he's not a messy or neglectful neighbour, just waiting for the insurance company to show up.

West of Martin and Michelle are the people I first met. Don't know their names yet, only wave from the patio so far and comment on the weather. They come and go ALOT. Seriously. Not sure what they do for a living, but they are always coming and going.

On the other side of me is a house under construction. Apparently, from speaking with yet another neighbour that lives a street up, it's been a work-in-progress for over a year. I finally met the owner, Steve, last week. Another chinese couple, not married. I thought perhaps he was in his 20's, but I think probably mid-30's. His girlfriend's name is Christine. They are putting up the fence because they have a dog. "He's friendly, really friendly, just a yappy doberman. And we need the fence to keep him away from other animals."

Great, I have two cats. Great, just great.

There are also woodpeckers, bald eagles, racoons and coyotes. Must keep my eye out for the coyotes... especially as one of my cats goes outdoors.

So, these are the people in my neighbourhood.

I wonder what they think of me as the only time they see me is when I'm having a ciggie and a beer on the patio.

PS: Two steps closer. And it was Fan-Tastic morning sex...

Urs.

One Step Closer

I'm one step closer today than I was yesterday.

To getting pregnant.

Today was/is the day. Am I crazy? Am I delusional? Am I getting my hopes up? Perhaps. Or perhaps I'm just thinking good thoughts. After all, you don't want to put out there what you don't want, but what you do want. So yes, today, the first day we've had sex in four months, is the day.

I looked back on the calendar to check out my last pregnancy. The one that ended in a miscarriage. The first day of the last period was the Tuesday. We conceived the next Saturday.

This time?

The first day of my last period was April 3, a Tuesday. We had sex thismorning, a Saturday. The same time-frame. Yes, yes, I know, it doesn't necessarily work that way. Yes, yes.

Positive thinking people.

Ask for what you want. Not what you don't want.

Of course, we're having sex two, three times a day. Everyday. From now on. Not leaving anything to chance. It may well be all about chance. Last time it was. It was a complete surprise. The Husband wanted to get pregnant. I didn't. And yet I did (side note: he got me at a moment of weakness when I was drunk and couldn't figure out the whole ovulation thing and I miscounted the dates...), and I was DELIGHTED when I saw those two pink stripes.

And so now I'm on a mission. We want to get pregnat right now.

I shall report back.

Urs.