I Can't Take the Heat

I remember when my blood test came back positive,

"Congratulations, is this your first one?"

I nodded to my doctor. I was with child. For the next few months, I puked and cried and slept. I tried to maintain a normal life and I failed. I had to turn vegetarian, I cut out sweets, I was disgusted by cheese. I lived off peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and prayed it was a boy.

Every ultrasound, every sonogram I was terrified. Panicked there'd be no movement, no growth, scared it would somehow all be taken away from me.

Three years earlier, I was told having children was going to be extremely difficult. That I should look into in vitro and adoption. I was told to go back on the pill to help regulate my Polycycstic Ovary Syndrome.  I cried for days over this news.

Now, pregnant, I am constantly filled with fear that I'll do something wrong, something will go wrong. I'll be alone with the memories of terrible kicks to my spine and punches while I desperately tried to sleep.

The day we found out it was a girl, I was slightly crestfallen. I'm one of four girls, all I wanted was a boy. My husband, patted my leg with so much joy in his eyes.

She's alive.

That's all that I cared about. She was alive with no major issues. Seeing her, really seeing her changed something inside of me.

I thought it was a positive but things quickly went dark. I cried, daily. I was anxious and frustrated and some days I simply couldn't get out of bed. There was the fear of somehow losing her. There was the disaster that was my home not even partially prepped for a baby. There was the financial stress I was already under being added to by specialist visits to manage my high risk pregnancy. There was the slow limitations of my body. There was the unsexifying of my body. There was a distance brewing between my husband and I. My frustrations were not his frustrations. He had started a new job, working nights and my concerns over a nursery currently burdened by essentially the leftovers of a move from two-years ago were not a high priority for him.

September 26th looms in the distance and I am overly ready and at the same time not at all. My house is in shambles. It's a dry heat in the 90s where I live. I'm exhausted. Just maintaining the dishes, laundry and daily dog walks is becoming a strain. I still work full-time and plan on returning to work after the birth. I need the money. I've started to retreat from social gatherings. I've started to hate that I do that. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know where I am. I don't know who I love.

Envious of those women who have happy pregnancies, blissful even. Those who beam with love and pride. Those who say they never felt more beautiful than when they were pregnant. I don't feel beautiful. I don't feel happy. I feel fear. I'm quick to anger. Fast at annoyance. I'm tired. I'm so tired.

I can't afford these feelings. I can't afford this baby. I can't afford to not find joy in my life.

At night, with these feelings trying to pull me under. I feel her kick. I feel her shudder. I feel her grow. She's making me weaker. She's already draining me. I still muster the strength to whisper "I Love You" to her as she let's me settle into uncomfortable sleep.

The Reality of the Situation

My mind played a dirty trick on me. A few nights ago, I had a very vivid dream where Tim and I found out we were pregnant and we were trying to decide how to tell our loved ones. We were happy. When I woke up it was evident this was not the situation. The next day was followed by granny panties and a strong need for chocolate, reaffirming the no-baby situation.

I understand a lot of couples don’t want babies or are grateful for that monthly reminder that they are in fact baby free. I used to be excited about that too. Until I was diagnosed with Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome. Until I was told odds of me conceiving are silm. Until that option of having kids was taken from me.

My husband and I have been attempting this whole “let’s start a family” thing for well over a year. We’ve faced a lot of hardships in that year. To the people who get knocked up on the first try or within the first month, fuck you. Fuck you in your happy fucking faces. I know I’m not the only woman who faces this. Who weeps when she gets her period or feels a pain in her chest when she sees people with strollers. I know. I know it’s not just me. To all my friends pregnant or with newborns, trust me I don’t hate you, I just wish I was you. It’s just tough for me to see the pictures of your babies. To hear the antidotes. To know all the ins and outs of your pregnancy. It’s hard. It’s really, really hard.  To be honest it’s like a slap in the face. But at the same time I can’t stop looking at your pregnant bellies and your baby pictures. It’s a very painful addiction. I know I comment on all your photos and like all your statuses  and seem really interactive and I am genuinely happy for you. It’s a punch in the guts. Your children are all so beautiful. I will never stop admiring your children and commenting on your statuses.

There are couples who have tried for a lot longer than Tim and I. There are couples who have tried everything. We’re new to this. We’re new to the feeling and the understanding that pregnancy is not an easy, automatic gift.  That the equation isn’t always first comes love then comes marriage then comes a baby in a baby carriage. Sometimes it’s  love and marriage and an empty carriage.  Or love only. Or dogs. Or cats. Or nothing at all. And that’s okay. That’s life. It’s no one’s fault. It’s no one’s responsibilities. It’s no one’s defect. It’s just life.

To those with children, I don’t think you’re lucky or blessed or favored. I think you’re a family, same as mine. I think you’re happy, same as mine and I think you’re grateful for them. 

The Smaller Version of Me

There is no smaller version of me. Today I admit that I am what I am and that’s all that I am or will ever be. Given my recent months of pure insanity I've decided that I need to stop chasing some unattainable smaller version of myself. It was a nice focal point to get me through some hard times. I always felt my weight was the one thing I could control. At a time in my life where I had NO control, it was a nice thought that if nothing else I could change my outer appearance to the strong woman I know is on the inside.  Some bodies are just not meant to change no matter what you think. Even when I had a personal trainer he told me: You have to work with what you are given. You can’t compare yourself to anyone. I’m relatively healthy at this point. Yes. Right now my stomach feels like I swallowed a bowling ball and it hurts to take deep breaths but that’s because this past weekend I went against all reasoning and ate all the things my doctor told me not to.

I've tried to lose weight for nearly 2 years. I've really made no great weight loss and maintained it. I started at 195 in Jan 2012. When I was running an insane amount I got down to 169 in July 2012. Since then the weight slowly crept back up to 185 within the year. Why? No real answers there. Speculation? Sure, I had to stop running because of my knees. We moved to California where both of us aren't making enough for me to buy groceries on anything but a credit card with the hope that on my next paycheck I’ll be able to pay off the groceries. My job is a joke. Our new dog, Princess Vespa, refuses to be house broken, and chews up my underwear, shoes, the garbage or anything she can get her mouth on plus she has been sick pretty much monthly, hooray vet bills. Tim is unhappy with his choice of employment. Neither one of us is happy with the move. I've been diagnosed with PCOS while we try to start a family. I've also been diagnosed with overly producing yeast so a sever shift in my diet has taken place (gone are the days of carefree eating). What does this all add up to? An overproduction of worry and a buildup of STRESS.

What feeds stress? More stress and worry so instead of trying to shove myself into the smaller version of me with the hopes that it will happen I’m just going to come out of the box. Stop stressing on my looks. I work very hard at my job, diet and exercise. I do Pilates 3 days a week, kickboxing 2 days a week, I walk the dogs about 5 hours a week, do strength training 2-3 days a week for a minimum of an hour and occasionally throw in a spinning class here or there. As far as my physical health goes there's really nothing more I can do. I'm tired of poking myself with sticks and fighting the inevitable. After almost a year of being the same weight even through diet shifts, exercise routine shifts and every other type of shift you can imagine, I'm done trying.

I yam what I yam and that’s all that I yam.

P.S. People have suggested seeing another doctor. Financially right now that is not a possibility. The doctor who diagnosed my PCOS gave me a copy of all my blood work. I've had 2 sets of blood work done in the past month I have no hormone, thyroid or vitamin D issues.  Regardless of getting a second opinion my blood test results will not change. 

Pissing and Moaning

Once in awhile (sometimes more often than not) we just get those days where the weight of the world bears down on our chests. Where all the little things going wrong join forces and becomes one major weight and we wake up drowning. Today is one of my days like that. It’s like the all-day feeling of “did I leave the stove on?” Except it’s how will I ever find the money to pay things off and enjoy life?

ThinkGeek.com is the coolest

It’s not wanting to look at your bank account because you don’t want to see the measly $5 to last you until payday.  It’s falling in love with a Flying R/C Shark only to regret the purchase because that money could have gone towards any one of a trillion bills. Its feeling overweight, underpaid and more importantly you feel like you can’t breathe. Life presents a crushing, fatal heart aching defeat. You feel trodden under bills, wants, desires, dreams, obligations, expectations, impulses and pain. You don’t want to disappoint anyone. You want to enjoy the moment but in the back of your mind you’re calculating how you will ever be able to pay for this thing called life. You made some mistakes maybe, burned through some reserve cash. Maybe not even that you bought something necessary – a car, a house, a wedding and it’s when the total cost comes in the mail you realize, what have I done?

That was my feeling this morning as I poured over sites looking for affordable airfare to Orlando for my husband’s 30^th birthday. Then the button on my $70 jeans fell out, then the cost of the Orlando trip started adding up in my head as my car payments, large credit card debt and sad salary tagged themselves into the death match. Then the budget I set up to try and give my husband and I a cushion for his release from the Navy jumped in with a folding chair and started pinning me against the ropes. It was a day of defeat, of wanting to forego work to play Tetris online or maybe Scrabble. A day of wanting to cry bitter tears into a vat of chocolate flavored fat to console my fatty brain and soothe the money woes. A day of wanting to gripe and moan and cry over what went wrong.

Ah, love the great defeater of pain.

Instead of all that depression, I took a later lunch and jogged/walked 2 miles with my dog in the sunshine. My outlook is better. Sometimes you have to look not at the things that need to happen but at the things that are happening. I am lucky in many ways and foolish in other ways. I’ve learned life is a great bamboozler if you let it be. But I will pay down my debt, I will have a wonderful time in Orlando for my husband’s 30^th birthday and I will buy new jeans … While we’re at it I will lose weight and I will get a raise at work.  Life has a lot of ups and downs, shadows and sunshine it’s all where you stand and how far you want to walk. My journey’s not over yet.

Write it down – Learn from my Frustrations

Weddings are about lists. Not just checklists or to-do lists but a mountain of other lists to help you keep track of how you want YOUR day to go. Here are some pointers from the disaster that was my beautiful wedding.

Write a list of who you want to thank on your wedding day. When the microphone is in your hand, for some of us (me) your mind goes blank. I wanted to thank everyone from my father to my aunt who let my husband and I live with them when we first moved to Seattle. You don’t have to carry the pieces of paper with you but for me writing stuff down commits them to memory. Plus you can use it as a cheat sheet.

Also keep track of all the crazy wedding gifts, envelopes, etc. that you receive. Thank you cards are mandatory and you need to know who sent you what and how to best thank them. Trust me it can get nice and confusing. Things bought off the registry don't always come with a note of who sent it.

When it comes to photography, I’m sure there are plenty of things you want pictures of – the ceremony, the first kiss, the walk down the aisle, etc. There were a lot of pictures I wish I had remembered to ask for.  Sure, I have tons of Tim and I, the bridal party, my hula, the first dance, etc. But I don’t really have any of the centerpieces, the food, the rings, my shoes even the bouquets. This isn’t really the photographer’s fault. Ask and you shall receive.

None of your vendors are mind readers, so unless you specifically ask for something or explain exactly what you want. They’re going to do what they’ve done before.

The best picture of me stressing on my wedding day.

In general, it’s wise to start a wedding binder, not just to keep ideas for your wedding but to keep notes. Write down anything that comes into your head, even if you’re going to later disregard it. When it’s the day of your wedding, the last thing you want to do is cry in your wedding dress over the fact that you didn’t get pictures of your rings or you forgot to thank your grandmother who raised you or the linen on the tables were wrinkled, or you didn’t remind the DJ to avoid the chicken dance song, etc. (This isn’t all true things that happened at my wedding, just examples)

While you may laugh at me and these small details seem insignificant, wait until it’s your wedding day.  The stress builds and builds until all you see are the imperfections of the day instead of enjoying it. Was this my wedding? No, my wedding was beautiful and while it is still freshly imprinted in my head I am starting to regret that I didn’t become more involved. That I didn’t speak up to explain why I wanted things done this way. That I didn’t climb into the steering wheel to realize my full potential of Bridezilla and not let people sway me. I shouldn’t have had to tell myself “It’s okay.”

It’s okay if I forget to remind the officiant to announce us as Leila & Tim Regan instead of Mr. & Mrs. Regan. It’s okay if the favors aren’t exactly what I wanted. It’s okay that I don’t have any pictures of my hair. It’s okay if people showed up who didn’t RSVP. It’s okay if my family wants to wait to take pictures until after they eat. It’s okay if we enter the ceremony a different way than I’d like. It’s okay if we don’t have anything for people to throw at us as we walk back down the aisle. (This isn’t all true things that happened at my wedding, just examples).

I can live with my wedding, it was beautiful and it took a lot of people to make it the success that it was. I am extremely grateful. I just wish I had better organized my needs, desires, ideas and goals. Perhaps if I had written everything all down, I wouldn’t have been as stressed out the day of the wedding.