Monday, September 30, 2013

Every man and his threesome...

This post is about periods.

And I will use a bad word.

Don't say I didn't warn you.
Arriving at age 13, she decided to grace me with her presence at school.
Our relationship got off on the wrong foot and only went downhill from there.
We did have a few years of our 'honeymoon phase' when we really, did quite well together ...
In our early years, while I waited patiently for the promises that come with a girl's first period... curves in all the right places, new emotions and interests, and budding maturity... we sampled ice cream as we tried to choose which flavor would suit us, tested a few heating pads and found one we both liked, grew close to our dermatologist, tried on many brands of 'product' for size and argued over which one was best for our lifestyle, we took moonlit walks and dreamed of having babies....
I'm still waiting on those curves.
Our relationship, while never consisting of life-long potential, was bearable... predictable.
And then we got married.
As my soon-to-be husband and I travelled through 2 months of pre-marital counseling, we were prepared the best ways possible for the many challenges that we would face as husband and wife...
finances, house-hold chores, Biblical roles within marriage, jobs, parenting... we covered them all.
All but one.
Why does no one prepare a new husband and wife for the inevitable havoc that a woman's period will wreak within the precious walls of marriage?!
Joey had a mom and a sister, yes... but he was NOT ready for life with me and my period!!

My poor husband. Unbeknownst to him, the term 'threesome' would mean something entirely different in the walls of marriage....

and it wouldn't be a dream come true.
Let's define 'period'.... a blood-bath of hormones and pain and well, blood that repeats itself every 2.5-3 weeks of every year.

If you're wondering why I keep referring to my period as 'her' it's because a period is not that we 'do... it's not a verb. It's not something that is done to us... it's not an explanation of something. A period is a noun.... not a place, not a thing... a single entity that consists of it's own emotions and agenda and personality. She.
She changes everything....
As hard as we try to neatly wrap and fold and double flush, there's only so much we can do....  we're well aware of how disgusting it is to take out the trash. In the same way, we dig and bury and hide any evidence in the laundry pile the best we can. The household's toilet paper use and the monthly budget... both affected greatly by our unwelcome monthly guest. We know that she has erased any chance our husband ever had of being entitled to having a bad day.... ever. Our sex life changes, too... but it's no secret that, at times, she is our only not-so-secret weapon.

And the hormones..... are completely misunderstood!

Let me explain...

When 'on the rag', yes, hormones change... commercials become sadder (or happier... or scarier...), a simple question or well-intentioned comment become off-handed and are an open invitation to the pent-up, smart-ass response we've been secretly harboring, and a normally welcomed hug warrants the biting off of your head.

But there's another side to the 'bitch' that doesn't get quite enough credit and I'd like to introduce her...

the part of us that is 'lazy' is the part that cringes every time we stand up or bends over or picks up a child because we are reminded each time we do of where the word 'tide' came from in the term 'crimson tide'... and there's no stopping it.

 the part of us that refuses 'spooning' is the part of us that climbs, oh so carefully into bed with the goal of finding the most comfortable position in as little time and with as little movement as possible because we will remain in that position for the entire night knowing that if we move, the tide returns... but in bed? Things become a whole lot more complicated.

the part of us that 'holds it' in the morning until we're in physical pain is the part that is knows that anything we need to do in that bathroom is humiliating and can't be done in mixed company.

the part of us that might usually smirk at a light smack on the butt gets angry at any attention... from our husband, a  stranger, a dog... directed at the entire center region of our body and for many reasons; for the products that are holding us together, for the extreme effort we make to 'hold it in', and for the possibly, possibly-non irrational fear that we smell anything but 'sweet'.

the part of us that is well aware that if anyone, and I mean anyone single-handedly bled THIS much from any part of their body, it would warrant a 911 call, many many stitches, and possible surgery.... and we'd GLADY take all 3 as a fair trade every month.

She is responsible for 95% of those 'hormones' that get so much attention.
No one prepares you for this dirty little secret.... it goes so far beyond a week of rampant emotions and an overlapping week of just plain grossness. It changes things....
It turns your marriage into a three-some.
It's the shadow that hangs over the household no matter how hard she tries to hide it.
For a man, it makes her untouchable.... and why does that seem to make her more desirable?!
For a woman, it makes her disgusting, revolting even, to herself and nothing anyone can say can change that.

Side note.... Why don't women on TV have periods?!
 Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda don't get them. Meredith, Bailey, Addison, Arizona, Callie, and Christina.... don't get periods. Even the Teen Mom girls don't get them!
A period and ovulation.... the only two things that must happen in order for a woman's body to have the ability to conceive.
And one of them NEVER happens on TV!
Rant over.

My period, regardless of the mutual respect we once had for each other, has never done me any favors. The curves? Still waiting. The budding maturity? Depends on the day. Ovulation? Got that down. Marriage? We're a three-some. Conceiving? Negative.
We are now 4 weeks post-D&E. We lost our precious #3 four weeks ago. My sweet husband and I had been a two-some for the first time in our entire marriage for 4 full months....

And like clock-work, our three-some returned.

I won't get into a 'post- D&E' explanation with you ... but let me just say...

I hate her.

In the day of Adam and Eve, the consequence of Adam's disobedience was a life-time of work. God's punishment for Eve's disobedience is commonly thought to be the pain of child-birth.... and, even though I haven't experienced child-birth, I can see how that's rough.

But here's the thing.

I might never experience child-birth... but I suffer the consequences of Eve's disobedience every.single.month. And this month? This month is rough.

This month, I hate her.


Well... and my period.

The pain and discomfort and emotions? They're all different this month... so much worse.... so much messier..... so much more emotional and painful and scary; emotionally, physically, and spiritually.  And they probably will be for a while, I'm guessing.

This girl? This month? My list of excuses is long.... really long.

Once in a while, life's a bitch. And once in a while, a girl deserves to be one, too.


Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Normal... With a Side of Rant and a Few Apologies

I have decided that the details of our miscarriage are unimportant....
and I refuse to become 'that' girl. You know, the one who's blog(s) I spent over a week pouring over as I looked for my own diagnosis.... why was I bleeding? why did I have cramps? could this be a 'normal' part of pregnancy? maybe there's still hope? what if it's just twins? why do my boobs still hurt? why am I STILL bleeding? what's a D&E?
Is my baby really gone?
Hi. My name is Lindsay. I'm a Googler.
In this case, I'm thankful for every chat room and for every experience I read about as I tried desperately to make sense out of the things my body was doing that just didn't make sense.... those forums were how I 'knew'.
But I won't be one of them.
We have spent this past week and a half feeling completely immersed in love. Cards, flowers, Edible Arrangements, meals, emails, texts, phone calls, messages, comments.... we've been on the receiving end of an overwhelming outpouring of compassion. Every tiny piece of thoughtfulness has come at the most perfectly timed moment in my day. My 'moments' come and go... but when they come, they're so hard to move past. At those exact times when I feel myself drowning and find every breath harder to take, my phone beeps, the mail comes, or my inbox flashes that tiny red '1'.

I read through my texts and cards and messages and comments every single day.... and I remember each moment of sadness or fear or pain that I was in at the very moment that I first read each one.... and It's those moments when I know that His arms are around me... holding me together. Right now, I live for the memories of every time God has quietly whispered His presence in my pain.
I can't thank you enough. Every one of you.
I'm afraid for those to end. I haven't found my new 'normal' yet. Nothing is 'normal'. My day doesn't start or end like it should, my clothes don't fit like they should, food doesn't taste the same, I can't 'read' my body like I used to, my kids look different to me, my husband feels and sounds different....
and then I realize; it's because something is missing.
Someone is missing.
My #3.
Maybe our #3 was our 'normal' for only a short time.... but that 'normal' was overwhelming.... and real. And that 'short time' felt like eternity. I can't remember a single moment of my daily life before the day I learned about our #3... not a single second of what my  'normal' used to be.
Our #3 is gone.... and so is our 'normal'.
I haven't found my new one yet.
And 'normal' has become my least favorite word.
Almost 2 weeks ago was 'that' ultra-sound. I had had a pit in my stomach since the night before and moments before I layed down on the table, I knew. I know God had prepared my heart....
I knew that the precious heartbeat we had seen twice before would be gone.
I knew that the teenie-tiny body and sweet head we had seen twice before would be gone.
I loved our ultra-sound tech so much and she had been with us since our very first peek at our #3.... and I said it so our amazing tech didn't have to...
"There's no baby."
Joey and I were given a lot of time to grieve together before we met with my doctor and when he came in, as compassionate and as sensitive as he tried to be, I could tell it wasn't his first rodeo...
I remember feeling so bad for him. What a shitty job.
He started going through our 'options'...
I already knew them.
I can't go in to the 2 weeks preceding this appointment right now but 'limbo' wasn't somewhere I could live in anymore.
As he explained a D&E (sorry to use Wikipedia... best I could do), the word 'abortion' came up quite a few times...

"Much like an abortion....", "Just like with an abortion...", "Abortions happen every day..."

And every time he mentioned an abortion, he said that everything would soon be back to 'normal.'

Excuse me for a second...

Are you F***ING serious?!


Our baby just died. In my body. I didn't choose this. We didn't want this. This happened TO us.

And you're going to compare this to an abortion?!

In the middle of our shock and grief, we did our best to keep it together while we made plans for the next day... for my 'procedure'.

Outside of my grief, I would have punched him in the nuts.



My second least favorite word.

THAT, a D&C... what I had... is surgery.

Everything after a D&C?


The bleeding that follows a D&C.... a normal period? No. I'm bleeding because my baby was just scraped out of my body.

The cramps that follow a D&C.... normal? No. My cervix was opened with various size rods until it was big enough so that my precious baby could fit through it.

The positive pregnancy tests that follow a D&C... Normal? No. Our baby was removed from my body before it was supposed to be.... my body took a while to get the memo. Hence... still sore boobs, morning nausea, tiny baby belly, smells that make you puke. Now? No baby.

The dozens of 'Your Pregnancy Today' and "Your baby is as big as a (insert fruit.... that I never want to eat again in my life)" emails you STILL get even though you unsubscribed from every single one of them days ago.... normal? Probably. Heartbreaking? Completely.

I love my doctor. I hate that he compared my D&C to an abortion and I hate that 'normal' is how he described life after.

My body will never be 'normal' again... because of what it was supposed to do, and couldn't.

My periods will never be 'normal' again... because of that ONE that was SUPPOSED to be 'normal', and wasn't.

Our family will never be 'normal' again... because of the one of us that should be here, and isn't.

While we're on our way to finding our new 'normal', part of me is terrified of any kind of 'normal' that doesn't include our #3....

I don't want 'normal' without my #3.

I've been stuck here for a few days.... not wanting to move on for fear that the emails and mail and texts and comments and messages will stop.... because I'm afraid that our #3 will be forgotten.... because where do we go from here?!

When I think back on the past 7 years, as much 'unknown' as we have experienced in our journey to grow our family, we have never been in a place where, even amidst tragedy and heartbreak, we didn't still have a plan. We always had the next cycle or the next procedure.... or we had a valid home study and an active family profile with an agency....

until now.

For the first time in 7 years, we don't have a plan.

And this Type A girl?? Doesn't 'do' without a plan.

And that's where I find my new 'normal'.

Last night, on my way home from my post-op doctor's appointment (where I acquired a few antibiotics to treat the uterine infection that wasn't part of the 'normal' that my doctor said comes after a D&C), I was quietly asking God to help us figure out what's next...

And I felt God tell me that this... this lack of a plan... this lack of 'normal'... is His plan, exactly.

And then today... in the middle of my fear that #3 is already being forgotten, that life is assumedly back to 'normal'... I opened a card from one of my sweetest friends...

And God's quiet whisper reminded me that our #3 is very much a part of our 'normal'... and a daily part of His, too. If our #3 can't be here with us, and oh my gosh what I'd give for even another minute.... there's no place else I'd rather him/her be than in Jesus's 'normal'.

We love you, sweet baby... we ache for you every day. We're finding our rest with you in Jesus' arms until the day we can see you again!

Monday, September 2, 2013


I've been dreading tomorrow for 5 days.

Real life starts tomorrow.

Our new real life.

We have spent the past 5 days just 'us'. We've slept in and eaten out. We haven't spent one second as anything but 'us'. Joey's arms have been a few feet away from me every minute of the day... his shoulder only inches from me every morning and every night. He's been my rock. When waves of sadness hit, we're both there and one of us can be strong.

Or not.... and that's ok, too.

We've read and wept over every comment, email, text, and phone call, every flower. We've soaked in each word of encouragement and have welcomed every thought and prayer. We stand amazed at the army of people who have surrounded us every second of one of the worst things we have ever been through. We know we wouldn't make it through this without them... without you.

We've hugged our H2. We've loved them and have spent time memorizing each quirk and appreciating every moment we have been given with them.

We've missed our #3.


This pain? We aren't built for this kind of pain. It's cruel.

Blessings always come out of despair.... that's true.

But right now? This feels like anything but a blessing.

A curse? Yeah, maybe. Today.

But tomorrow?

 I don't want to wake up alone, knowing that Joey's new reality has already started. I don't want to roll over and not see the box of saltines that I needed in order to get out of bed every day for 8 weeks. I don't want to make breakfast and get the kids dressed. I don't want to walk into a doctor's office and have to pretend that everything is ok... our weekend was wonderful... the weather is beautiful... we're so happy it's a 4-day week. I don't want to fear with everything in me that our #3 will be forgotten when life starts again.

I've had only 5 days of practice and I can't 'do' this new life by myself yet... without Joey a few feet from me... outside of the bubble that has just been 'us'...

without my #3.

The pain doesn't come and go... it's always there. It builds over time ... a couple hours, over night, or sometimes a day... and when you finally break, there isn't a reason. There's no distraction big enough and no time small enough. Your heart can only handle so much pretending. And that's exactly what it is....


Pretending that you're ok.... or even that you're gonna be.

Pretending that greater blessings will come out of this pain... because you'd trade every single blessing in the world for the one you lost.

Pretending that God will use this for His glory... because truthfully, His glory isn't shining through the despair right now.

Pretending that you trust that His plan is better than your own... because this wasn't your plan to begin with and that makes it feel like a cruel joke.

Pretending that time heals all wounds... because nothing... I mean nothing, can heal this kind of loss.... this kind of wound.

Moments come when I have to force myself out of well, myself. I have to spend a moment outside of my pain and confusion and disappointment. I have to fight everything in me that wants to resent my Jesus and scream at Him for making the one thing I have ever wanted, being a Mommy, such a painful process each time.

I have to step away and trust all that I know....

I will be ok.

Blessings will come out of this pain.

God will use this for His glory.

His plan is better than my own.

And time, though it won't take the pain away, will make it easier to bear.

The verses, His promises, the truth we've witnessed that comes from His promises...

Those things I know in my heart.

But tomorrow?

I'll be pretending them through my day.