I was heavily pregnant five years ago. My son had inexplicably turned breech right at the very end of that text-book easy pregnancy. My dream of natural, drug-free vaginal birth was in jeopardy and I was suddenly facing the possibility of a c-section. Sure, plenty of women have had breech vaginal deliveries. . .but that wasn't what ended up happening with my delivery.
I can still remember the day that I was lying on the couch in the living room and my abdomen began to resemble that famously gross scene from the movie Alien. I could not believe the movement that was going on inside my body. It was creepy to watch, somewhat painful to feel, and I ended up feeling beat up on the inside. At my next appointment, my doctor was startled to discover that my baby had found a way to turn breech. His expression was one of pure shock and he spat out, "Is that your baby's head?!" Why, yes, yes it was his head. . .suddenly lodged up near my breastbone.
My doctor attempted to turn the baby in his office. I believe he truly tried to flip that baby and can say that it was very uncomfortable from a physical standpoint. Being so very near the end of pregnancy and so full of baby in my belly. . .ugh, it really kinda sucked and I was so upset that the baby was not turning even with a grown man pushing full force on my abdomen. I'd be 39-weeks on the weekend and he was scheduled at the hospital that Saturday so he told me to come to L & D so he could try to turn baby there. The reasoning was that we could head directly to the OR for a c-section if anything truly distressing happened to the baby while he was attempting to flip the baby.
On this night five years ago, I prayed fervent prayers. I prayed for my baby to turn, for me to avoid a surgery, for all to work out according to my wishes. Well. . .my baby did not turn, I did not avoid a surgery, but it ultimately did work out.
My amniotic fluid was low enough at that point that attempting the version was not on the table. My doctor said that he was there, I was there, I was at term, and the baby was breech. He offered the c-section right then if I wanted it. I burst out that I thought he'd flip my baby back down and I'd have a vaginal birth and that I thought my delivery would be what I wanted. I realize now that he & my husband exchanged a look (confirmed by speaking with my husband) and I think both of them thought I knew I was walking into that hospital for a c-section that day.
I did not know.
I was so thrown for a loop that I actually left my shoes in that L & D room and walked off without ever finding them again. It was many many hours before my surgery was actually performed. Hours that I spent feeling uncomfortably hungry and thirsty. Oh, man, I have NEVER felt so thirsty. Starting the IV helped a little, but my mouth positively ached for liquid refreshment.
I was there for over eight hours. . .waiting for the surgery that I did not want. . .hoping that I could somehow avoid this (in my view) unnecessary surgery. . .praying that I could keep the baby in for one more week so that my mother could be near me.
My in-laws were there nearly the entire time. . .I remember my mother-in-law sitting in that room with me, trying to keep my mind off my anxiety and fears, being a solid rock of support for me. It's a kindness that I can never repay.
At some point I inquired if it wasn't time for my doctor to go home and if that meant I'd get to go on home too. The L & D nurse was a treat, so very well suited to the job, and she let me know that if my doctor said he'd be there for my surgery that he absolutely would not be leaving until I was stable in recovery no matter how many more "emergency" c-sections showed up. I still remember that nurse by name and she is one who I made sure to give a special gift to weeks later when I was up for returning to the hospital with my new babe.
I had never been admitted into a hospital prior to this birth. I'd never had a major surgery. I'd never delivered a baby. To say I was anxious would be an understatement. I was scared to death.
It was a day of firsts. It was a day that I held my heart - outside of my own body. The first time that I was able to hold a child of mine.
The surgery was perfect and looking back it was as good as could be hoped for in a surgical delivery. The recovery sucked and I didn't see my new baby for two hours as I desperately tried to move my legs enough while in recovery to be sent up to my room to be reunited with my baby. There are only three or four post-op photos of me holding my first son while we were in the hospital. One that painfully tugs at my heart is one where I was on the phone with my mother who was 3,000 miles away and I was crying while holding the phone and cradling my new baby for the first time.
So much has changed in these five years and I can say that it has flown by in the blink of an eye. I can't believe that the baby who nuzzled at my awkward breast is now a five-year old who is on the cusp of Kindergarten. I should have cherished those fleeting early baby days. . .those impossibly exhausting early baby days. They will never return that that boy will only continue to grow and mature.
What do I hope for my dear first son? I hope that he keeps his kind and loving heart. He is so sweet and empathetic. I hope that his spirit is free when it can be, but that he learns when it's advisable to reign in his head-strong nature. I hope that he remains a fundamentally good human being. I hope that he finds a special someone who appreciates and admires him for who he is and that his spouse is a generously loving helper who isn't emotionally wounded. I hope for the best for my dear boy. . .he's smart and can be so charming. My darling son. . .I love that boy so much that words fail.
So much has changed in the last five years. I earned a new title: Mother. I know there are times that I miserably fail, but I do aim to bring honor and respect to that title. I became responsible for a human being who needs me to grow and thrive. . .who needs my guidance to learn how to thrive and succeed in society. I really can not believe my son is now five years old. It honestly does feel like it was only yesterday that I first held that beautiful baby with the dimpled chin. Only yesterday that I put my nose in his hair and nearly wept over the joy of his smell. Only yesterday that this newest chapter of my life began. I was living before. . .but I was finally alive.
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Friday, May 17, 2013
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Sounding the Well of Grief
I was watching my husband and our older son today and felt a pang because it made me think of my brother and his youngest son. I thought that there were surely countless times that my brother and my nephew chatted about any number of topics. Conversations that are forever lost because the two people who had them are gone.
I was startled to realize that it's been almost 2 1/2-years since my brother died and 1 1/2-years since my nephew followed his father in death. Can that really be? Was it so long ago?
Time passes so quickly and even very loved members of your family eventually will slip through your memory. You still love them and miss them. Of course you do. It's just that eventually you learn to live without them. And, as much as I hate that I haven't constantly attended the altar of grief. . .life has gone on because that's what life does. It goes on whether you want it to or not.
Sometimes I still feel an ache in my chest. . .a pain that I can only describe as my heart actually breaking. That pain is rare, though blindingly painful when it happens. At one time I felt that pain every second of every day. Words are inadequate to describe that sad, sad time. I never would have believed that there would come a day that I didn't feel the physical pain of grief in addition to the emotional torment it imposed.
Having the benefit of hindsight and the emotional buffer of years passing allows me to look back and realize that I was in a bad place. I know that and I fully recognize it now, but I was unable to see it at the time. My grief didn't just blind me. It strangled me. I was being smothered by it - held down, pushed further than I could have possibly imagined.
Grief is a well - and it is deep. It can seem to go straight to the center of the Earth, it is so damn deep. You find yourself treading water, desperately trying to keep your head up. Trying to pretend that you aren't sinking lower by the moment. Eventually, you stop fighting it. You let go and give yourself to that well. And it begins to drown you. If you're lucky, you hit bottom fast so you can bounce back up. If you're not as lucky, well, you feel smothered just a little longer. Eventually you hit bottom too. You push back up and gasp in the sweetness of life again.
I've sounded the well of grief. I know just how deep it truly is and it's terrifying. Yet, here I stand. I was knocked flat and one day I was back up. I don't know when it happened, it probably happened little by little, but it did happen.
I am present. I am me. I am back.
I was startled to realize that it's been almost 2 1/2-years since my brother died and 1 1/2-years since my nephew followed his father in death. Can that really be? Was it so long ago?
Time passes so quickly and even very loved members of your family eventually will slip through your memory. You still love them and miss them. Of course you do. It's just that eventually you learn to live without them. And, as much as I hate that I haven't constantly attended the altar of grief. . .life has gone on because that's what life does. It goes on whether you want it to or not.
Sometimes I still feel an ache in my chest. . .a pain that I can only describe as my heart actually breaking. That pain is rare, though blindingly painful when it happens. At one time I felt that pain every second of every day. Words are inadequate to describe that sad, sad time. I never would have believed that there would come a day that I didn't feel the physical pain of grief in addition to the emotional torment it imposed.
Having the benefit of hindsight and the emotional buffer of years passing allows me to look back and realize that I was in a bad place. I know that and I fully recognize it now, but I was unable to see it at the time. My grief didn't just blind me. It strangled me. I was being smothered by it - held down, pushed further than I could have possibly imagined.
Grief is a well - and it is deep. It can seem to go straight to the center of the Earth, it is so damn deep. You find yourself treading water, desperately trying to keep your head up. Trying to pretend that you aren't sinking lower by the moment. Eventually, you stop fighting it. You let go and give yourself to that well. And it begins to drown you. If you're lucky, you hit bottom fast so you can bounce back up. If you're not as lucky, well, you feel smothered just a little longer. Eventually you hit bottom too. You push back up and gasp in the sweetness of life again.
I've sounded the well of grief. I know just how deep it truly is and it's terrifying. Yet, here I stand. I was knocked flat and one day I was back up. I don't know when it happened, it probably happened little by little, but it did happen.
I am present. I am me. I am back.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Why is Miscarriage so Isolating?
A couple of things on Facebook reminded me of a post that I always intended to write. Though I had an outpouring of love and support after I lost my baby in January, I was surprised at how isolating a miscarriage is to women who have lost their babies. Not only is the tragedy isolating, but I found that most women keep quiet about miscarriage unless they pulled my move of blabbing about the pregnancy early on and ended up with a loss.
Why is it that miscarriage is shrouded in painful silence? We know that around 20% of confirmed pregnancies end with a miscarriage and there is some evidence that it's more like 50% of all pregnancies (not necessarily confirmed pregnancies) end in loss. Think of the women you know. . .chances are that several of them have lost at least one baby; perhaps you have too. So why are women so reluctant to talk about it if so many of us have experienced it?
I wonder if the medical establishment view toward miscarriage doesn't help squelch healing discussions after loss. After all, one miscarriage isn't considered to be a problem and a woman isn't generally going to receive additional care until she's suffered at least two (or more!) losses in a row. The message that this attitude sends is that your one miscarriage isn't a big deal. It's not even important enough to warrant any further examination once they've verified that the "products of conception" are out of your womb.
You know what? Every baby that is lost is a big deal. It's a big freaking deal to the woman who miscarried and it's a big deal to her family because they also lost a family member. It's heartless and cruel to suggest or imply that miscarriage doesn't matter.
I also wonder if the standard responses people give to women who have experienced miscarriage doesn't force women to clam up and hold back their feelings. I heard some things that were so off-the-charts insensitive that I almost couldn't believe that a loved one would ever consider saying them to a grieving mother. And that's exactly what a woman who lost a baby is - a grieving mother. It makes no difference that her baby was never born when the fact is that her baby was alive at one time. I think sometimes people forget that a baby is very real to a woman as soon as she discovers that she's pregnant. . .as soon as she hears that precious heartbeat.
I was contacted by many women who had lost babies after I shared that my pregnancy had ended. Whether or not they went on to have a perfectly healthy baby later, we are all united in knowing the pain of miscarriage. A sisterhood of sorrow. Not surprisingly, none of these women tried to downplay what had happened and their support was particularly comforting.
If any good can be found in losing my baby in January it's that I know the ache of loss and, since I have a big mouth (or, more accurately, an active keyboard), I hope that I make the loneliest of tragedies feel a little less isolating to at least one woman.
Why is it that miscarriage is shrouded in painful silence? We know that around 20% of confirmed pregnancies end with a miscarriage and there is some evidence that it's more like 50% of all pregnancies (not necessarily confirmed pregnancies) end in loss. Think of the women you know. . .chances are that several of them have lost at least one baby; perhaps you have too. So why are women so reluctant to talk about it if so many of us have experienced it?
I wonder if the medical establishment view toward miscarriage doesn't help squelch healing discussions after loss. After all, one miscarriage isn't considered to be a problem and a woman isn't generally going to receive additional care until she's suffered at least two (or more!) losses in a row. The message that this attitude sends is that your one miscarriage isn't a big deal. It's not even important enough to warrant any further examination once they've verified that the "products of conception" are out of your womb.
You know what? Every baby that is lost is a big deal. It's a big freaking deal to the woman who miscarried and it's a big deal to her family because they also lost a family member. It's heartless and cruel to suggest or imply that miscarriage doesn't matter.
I also wonder if the standard responses people give to women who have experienced miscarriage doesn't force women to clam up and hold back their feelings. I heard some things that were so off-the-charts insensitive that I almost couldn't believe that a loved one would ever consider saying them to a grieving mother. And that's exactly what a woman who lost a baby is - a grieving mother. It makes no difference that her baby was never born when the fact is that her baby was alive at one time. I think sometimes people forget that a baby is very real to a woman as soon as she discovers that she's pregnant. . .as soon as she hears that precious heartbeat.
I was contacted by many women who had lost babies after I shared that my pregnancy had ended. Whether or not they went on to have a perfectly healthy baby later, we are all united in knowing the pain of miscarriage. A sisterhood of sorrow. Not surprisingly, none of these women tried to downplay what had happened and their support was particularly comforting.
If any good can be found in losing my baby in January it's that I know the ache of loss and, since I have a big mouth (or, more accurately, an active keyboard), I hope that I make the loneliest of tragedies feel a little less isolating to at least one woman.
Friday, July 15, 2011
The Lasting Ache of Parental Rejection
A friend was lamenting recently that her child's father is a truly absentee parent. They are divorced and, as is sadly often the case, the non-custodial parent seems to be confusing their offspring with their former spouse. He not only doesn't contact his child, but he doesn't even appear to want any kind of relationship with his firstborn. In his anger toward his ex-wife (I guess), he is willing to reject and hurt his own child.
Words can't express how I feel for her child. A lasting ache is created when a parent deliberately wounds their child. It doesn't matter why the injury occurs, though it frequently seems to be for completely selfish reasons on the part of the parent, and it doesn't matter how old the child is who has been hurt. Physical and emotional wounds may heal, scars may fade, but the ache remains and it will always be a painful reminder for the child. The sting of parental rejection never goes away - NEVER! The child may move on and appear to be fine, but they are painfully aware that they were rejected and hurt by one person who should always be there for them. . .their own parent.
I can only believe that one day this individual will regret his neglect and he'll realize that he missed out on quite a lot. No, not just that he missed out; that he CHOSE to miss out. He abdicated his position as father. If his child can somehow find the desire to forgive and try to forget this emotional abuse (and, make no mistake, that's exactly what it is), good. If not, well, who could blame the poor soul for staying far, far away?
The good news is that one can always choose to rise above and be better than that which was modeled to us. The most carelessly injured women can become the best mothers and the most heartlessly treated men can become the best fathers. We can always choose to do better than was done to us. Unfortunately, it doesn't always turn out that way and sometimes the abuse will continue to play out for generations. . .the root being one parent and their horrible decisions.
Parenthood is a great responsibility and it's a damn shame that all parents don't realize this fact and rise to the challenge of the role that they willingly chose to accept.
Words can't express how I feel for her child. A lasting ache is created when a parent deliberately wounds their child. It doesn't matter why the injury occurs, though it frequently seems to be for completely selfish reasons on the part of the parent, and it doesn't matter how old the child is who has been hurt. Physical and emotional wounds may heal, scars may fade, but the ache remains and it will always be a painful reminder for the child. The sting of parental rejection never goes away - NEVER! The child may move on and appear to be fine, but they are painfully aware that they were rejected and hurt by one person who should always be there for them. . .their own parent.
I can only believe that one day this individual will regret his neglect and he'll realize that he missed out on quite a lot. No, not just that he missed out; that he CHOSE to miss out. He abdicated his position as father. If his child can somehow find the desire to forgive and try to forget this emotional abuse (and, make no mistake, that's exactly what it is), good. If not, well, who could blame the poor soul for staying far, far away?
The good news is that one can always choose to rise above and be better than that which was modeled to us. The most carelessly injured women can become the best mothers and the most heartlessly treated men can become the best fathers. We can always choose to do better than was done to us. Unfortunately, it doesn't always turn out that way and sometimes the abuse will continue to play out for generations. . .the root being one parent and their horrible decisions.
Parenthood is a great responsibility and it's a damn shame that all parents don't realize this fact and rise to the challenge of the role that they willingly chose to accept.
Friday, May 20, 2011
The Circle of Life
I realize that I'll probably end up with my head in the toilet most of the day because that's my body's MO when I have plans, but I have quite a busy day scheduled for tomorrow. There's no way that I'll get everything done that I'd like to and I'll try my best to hit two of the events. I have a baby shower to attend, was invited to two birthday parties, and will also try to attend a memorial service for two people. Oh, and my parents are coming over to have supper tomorrow night.
It occurs to me that tomorrow afternoon's activities perfectly demonstrate the circle of life: a baby shower to welcome the grandchild of long-time friends, celebrating the births of two friends' young children, and honoring the lives of a dear friends' parents. We are all born and we all die, but not all of us live our lives to the fullest. Heck, I know that sometimes I don't. As I said a long time ago, make your dash count.
It occurs to me that tomorrow afternoon's activities perfectly demonstrate the circle of life: a baby shower to welcome the grandchild of long-time friends, celebrating the births of two friends' young children, and honoring the lives of a dear friends' parents. We are all born and we all die, but not all of us live our lives to the fullest. Heck, I know that sometimes I don't. As I said a long time ago, make your dash count.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
With God, All Things Are Possible
Easter marks the twelve-month point in what has been undoubtedly the toughest year that I've ever experienced. I woke early this morning, around 4:00 am, and wasn't able to return to sleep. I've been pondering the last twelve-months and marveling at God's love and mercy. . .entirely appropriate for the day that my Lord was risen.
What a difference a year makes. I reviewed my blog posts from a year ago to refresh my memory on where things were when things began to go so horribly wrong. With God's amazing love, restoration was possible.
If you've read this blog for the last year, you already know the complete and utter heartbreak that has befallen my family and I don't care to rehash the dark days surrounding the death of my brother or my baby. I commented to my husband the other day that it's nothing short of a miracle that the last six months haven't resulted in me experiencing a nervous breakdown. Knowing my own natural propensity toward simple melancholy and outright depression, I fully believe that supplication and intercessory prayer is what kept me together; God's love and mercy is what kept my family from suffering any further.
I've learned that God has further worked to heal another hurt in my heart. . .one that I don't care to discuss at this moment. I have so much that I really want to say, but I'm uncharacteristically going to hold my tongue. Instead I'll leave you with a simple:
Happy Easter. . .He is Risen.
What a difference a year makes. I reviewed my blog posts from a year ago to refresh my memory on where things were when things began to go so horribly wrong. With God's amazing love, restoration was possible.
If you've read this blog for the last year, you already know the complete and utter heartbreak that has befallen my family and I don't care to rehash the dark days surrounding the death of my brother or my baby. I commented to my husband the other day that it's nothing short of a miracle that the last six months haven't resulted in me experiencing a nervous breakdown. Knowing my own natural propensity toward simple melancholy and outright depression, I fully believe that supplication and intercessory prayer is what kept me together; God's love and mercy is what kept my family from suffering any further.
I've learned that God has further worked to heal another hurt in my heart. . .one that I don't care to discuss at this moment. I have so much that I really want to say, but I'm uncharacteristically going to hold my tongue. Instead I'll leave you with a simple:
Happy Easter. . .He is Risen.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Conviction is Good
I'm not all that well-versed in religious matters, but I'm forever amazed at God's timing and His love.
My church offers The Lord's Supper (Communion) only a few times each year. My pastor's feeling is that doing it rarely, like a quarterly basis, emphasizes that it is a sacred thing. I agree that it is sacred and should be treated as such. I think that, more important than treating the act with reverence, is the condition of the heart in those who choose to partake. That's where this blog post was born, but more on that later.
For those of you who don't know, The Lord's Supper (also called Communion) is the act in which the congregation mimics the final meal that Jesus shared with His disciples on the eve of His sacrifice. We share bread, crackers, or wafers (depends on the church) as a symbol of His body. . .the body that was broken for our sins. We also share wine or juice (again, depends on the church) as a symbol of his blood. . .the blood that was spilled as a once-and-forever sacrifice to lift away our sins and reconcile us to God.
I won't even begin to try to tackle whether the bread is the actual body of Christ or whether the wine is the actual blood of Christ because I don't want to start a Holy War. Different denominations believe different things on that matter. Let's just let that discussion lie while we move right along, shall we?
The Lord's Supper was offered at my church yesterday and I felt bothered when I noticed the platters of broken matzoh and the communion cups of grape juice. I was surprised at my negative response because that had never happened to me before. I actually wanted to leave the sanctuary and excuse myself from the entire service.
My pastor explained the history of this act and the reason why Christians do this in remembrance of Him. He also included some verses that helped enlighten me. Specifically, he spoke about unconfessed sin as it relates to the condition of the heart.
Then it hit me. I didn't want to cast a light on my heart. I didn't want to do any reflection or confession.
Why? Because I wanted to cling to the sins that had taken up residence in my heart and that's why I was bothered at the notion of participating in The Lord's Supper. I knew that I should not partake if I was still willfully holding those sins and I understand the importance of asking God's forgiveness for any and ALL unconfessed sins. It only hit me yesterday morning that I had a lot of unconfessed sin in my heart.
Sure, sins of the heart might seem like lesser sins than sins of the flesh, but the Bible is very clear on this: sin is sin is sin. Sins of the heart are weighted as heavily as sins of the flesh. Both are sins and both need to be confessed.
For various reasons (travel, illness, nursery duty), I've been away from church for a few weeks. It seems like an odd coincidence that my first week back to church is a service built around The Lord's Supper and the need to sweep sin from your heart. But is it all that odd? No, not really. . .it's just God's perfect timing at work.
I needed to be reminded that the smallest bit of sin in the heart can spread and grow if left unchecked. I needed to confess and turn away from that sin that had taken up residence in my heart. God, in His perfect love, gave me the conviction that I needed and I needed that conviction to get right with Him.
It's been a rough several months for me. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually. The other two are directly impacted by my spiritual health. When my spirit is nourished, my emotions are positive. And, when I feel good in my mind, my body follows.
I'm embarrassed to admit that I had been feeling spiritually barren for several weeks. Not neglected or unloved by God. . .almost the opposite. I felt more like a snotty teenager who doesn't want to do what their loving parents say is the right thing to do. My spiritual drought allowed me to ignore what I know was right and contemplate whatever the heck I wanted. Naturally, that lead to further feelings of separation and spiritual dryness. It quickly became a never-ending cycle that repeated over and over and over again.
Christians, is there something weighing heavily on your heart today? Don't try to deal with it alone or give in to spiritual chaos. Take it to God and feel at peace once again.
My church offers The Lord's Supper (Communion) only a few times each year. My pastor's feeling is that doing it rarely, like a quarterly basis, emphasizes that it is a sacred thing. I agree that it is sacred and should be treated as such. I think that, more important than treating the act with reverence, is the condition of the heart in those who choose to partake. That's where this blog post was born, but more on that later.
For those of you who don't know, The Lord's Supper (also called Communion) is the act in which the congregation mimics the final meal that Jesus shared with His disciples on the eve of His sacrifice. We share bread, crackers, or wafers (depends on the church) as a symbol of His body. . .the body that was broken for our sins. We also share wine or juice (again, depends on the church) as a symbol of his blood. . .the blood that was spilled as a once-and-forever sacrifice to lift away our sins and reconcile us to God.
I won't even begin to try to tackle whether the bread is the actual body of Christ or whether the wine is the actual blood of Christ because I don't want to start a Holy War. Different denominations believe different things on that matter. Let's just let that discussion lie while we move right along, shall we?
The Lord's Supper was offered at my church yesterday and I felt bothered when I noticed the platters of broken matzoh and the communion cups of grape juice. I was surprised at my negative response because that had never happened to me before. I actually wanted to leave the sanctuary and excuse myself from the entire service.
My pastor explained the history of this act and the reason why Christians do this in remembrance of Him. He also included some verses that helped enlighten me. Specifically, he spoke about unconfessed sin as it relates to the condition of the heart.
Then it hit me. I didn't want to cast a light on my heart. I didn't want to do any reflection or confession.
Why? Because I wanted to cling to the sins that had taken up residence in my heart and that's why I was bothered at the notion of participating in The Lord's Supper. I knew that I should not partake if I was still willfully holding those sins and I understand the importance of asking God's forgiveness for any and ALL unconfessed sins. It only hit me yesterday morning that I had a lot of unconfessed sin in my heart.
Sure, sins of the heart might seem like lesser sins than sins of the flesh, but the Bible is very clear on this: sin is sin is sin. Sins of the heart are weighted as heavily as sins of the flesh. Both are sins and both need to be confessed.
For various reasons (travel, illness, nursery duty), I've been away from church for a few weeks. It seems like an odd coincidence that my first week back to church is a service built around The Lord's Supper and the need to sweep sin from your heart. But is it all that odd? No, not really. . .it's just God's perfect timing at work.
I needed to be reminded that the smallest bit of sin in the heart can spread and grow if left unchecked. I needed to confess and turn away from that sin that had taken up residence in my heart. God, in His perfect love, gave me the conviction that I needed and I needed that conviction to get right with Him.
It's been a rough several months for me. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually. The other two are directly impacted by my spiritual health. When my spirit is nourished, my emotions are positive. And, when I feel good in my mind, my body follows.
I'm embarrassed to admit that I had been feeling spiritually barren for several weeks. Not neglected or unloved by God. . .almost the opposite. I felt more like a snotty teenager who doesn't want to do what their loving parents say is the right thing to do. My spiritual drought allowed me to ignore what I know was right and contemplate whatever the heck I wanted. Naturally, that lead to further feelings of separation and spiritual dryness. It quickly became a never-ending cycle that repeated over and over and over again.
Christians, is there something weighing heavily on your heart today? Don't try to deal with it alone or give in to spiritual chaos. Take it to God and feel at peace once again.
Monday, March 21, 2011
A Poem; Sans Poeticizing
I've always liked writing and there was a time where I wrote a lot of poetry. Well, I probably did more poeticizing than actually writing poetry, but that's angst-ridden teenaged girls for you! I ran across a poem that I wrote last Summer and it's just as true now as it was then.
What I Want for My Son
I want my son to climb. . .even if he might fall.
I want my son to fall. . .so he'll learn that it hurts.
I want my son to learn what hurts. . .so he'll be more careful.
I want my son to try new things. . .even if he might fail.
I want my son to fail. . .so he'll learn to try harder.
I want my son to try harder. . .so he'll excel.
I want my son to explore. . .even if he might get lost.
I want my son to get lost. . .so he'll learn to stay close or at least learn directions!
I want my son to learn directions. . .so he'll be able to find his way around town.
I want my son to fight if he has to. . .even if he might lose.
I want my son to lose. . .so he'll learn how to win.
I want my son to win. . .because I love him.
What I Want for My Son
I want my son to climb. . .even if he might fall.
I want my son to fall. . .so he'll learn that it hurts.
I want my son to learn what hurts. . .so he'll be more careful.
I want my son to try new things. . .even if he might fail.
I want my son to fail. . .so he'll learn to try harder.
I want my son to try harder. . .so he'll excel.
I want my son to explore. . .even if he might get lost.
I want my son to get lost. . .so he'll learn to stay close or at least learn directions!
I want my son to learn directions. . .so he'll be able to find his way around town.
I want my son to fight if he has to. . .even if he might lose.
I want my son to lose. . .so he'll learn how to win.
I want my son to win. . .because I love him.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
My Epiphany - Part II
I've discovered that the subject of my epiphany post is still working at the same place I met him and that has caused me a lot of distress over the last few weeks. I have frequently attended his workplace with my young son for well over a year. The kiddo loves it there and I always have too. However, I'm concerned that I should avoid this place at all cost because I'm not so sure that it would be emotionally safe for me to visit if it means that I might see him.
I mentioned all this to a very dear friend. She knew me back then and she knew him too. I indicated that my concern is that I'd see him and that I'd see that the spell between us was broken between us. That I'd just be some frumpy middle-aged housewife in his eyes. That's true, as I'd sure hate the blow to my ego, but it's more than that though. . .it's that I fear that I would be putting myself directly in temptation's path.
I detest liars, thieves, and cheaters. And believe me when I say that someone who cheats on their spouse is all three in one. We so easily begin to resemble that which we hate. . .could I ever be an adulteress? Could I ever be so easily tempted? I don't think so, but I am very aware that my pride in my faithfulness could very well lead to faithlessness.
My friend smartly pointed out that I'm too much in love with my husband and our son to do anything to jeopardize this family. She's right about that because my family is my everything. I'm sure readers of this blog know how much my husband & son mean to me; they truly are as vital as the air that I breathe.
She also pointed out that my epiphany subject was old back then and that means that he's ancient now. She's not so right about that. He's only a few years older than my husband and I certainly don't think my hubs is "old" - let alone "ancient!"
She added that we probably wouldn't even recognize each other anyway since so much time has gone by and we surely have aged in the last twenty-years. Oh my, she is right about that! I was looking over some old photos of myself and, well, I look nothing like I did back then. I think I peaked (from a physically attractive standpoint) at around 19- or 20-years old. And it totally pains me to admit that was a long time ago. It sucks, but there you go.
I am an honest woman and I have discussed this potential problem at length with my husband. He knows about the entire relationship and he knows every intimate detail. Yeah, yeah, so I kiss & tell - to my spouse!
Yet he laughed at my concerns and basically advised me to stop worrying about silly situations that weren't likely to ever happen. After all, I go to this place with our son - that alone stops any sexy situations dead. I guess no one really wants to make time with a Mom. Additionally, we frequently are in the company of other mamas & toddlers - another sexual killer.
And that's even allowing for the thought that this man and I would still have this fiery hot connection burning between us. . .and, let's face it, we do not and we will not because the years would have eroded whatever it was that brought the two of us together. So, really, the chances to destroy my marriage are virtually nil.
My little boy and I went to this particular place the other day. We had a wonderful time with two other mamas and their children. I did not run into an old love and I didn't particularly worry about it either. My son gets so excited when he sees where we are going and I can't possibly trip down my own memory lane when my little boy is busily building his own memories.
The past is gone and I've never made a habit of going backward. So it is entirely possible (remotely possible, really) that I may see this man at some point. . .but I wasn't brought to him to have for life. However, I did voluntarily give myself to my husband in a ceremony that was witnessed by well over 100 of our friends and family. And that union brought forth our son. . .our wonderful son!
I am my beloved's and he is mine. No man will tear us apart; even a man who has known me in the distant past. I can confidently enjoy this venue because I do know that the love I have for my husband overrides any lust or nostalgia that I can possibly feel. Feelings, after all, are fleeting. But the love and admiration that I have for my husband is deeper than the oceans, higher than the sky, and sweeter than the most tender nectar. He is the harbor in which I seek refuge and life's storms will never tear me from his safe bay. To put it quite simply, I adore my husband and nothing that is of this world could pull me away from him.
So I will confidently enter this park and appreciate seeing the joy in my son's face. And I will leave the past where it belongs. . .solidly in the past.
I mentioned all this to a very dear friend. She knew me back then and she knew him too. I indicated that my concern is that I'd see him and that I'd see that the spell between us was broken between us. That I'd just be some frumpy middle-aged housewife in his eyes. That's true, as I'd sure hate the blow to my ego, but it's more than that though. . .it's that I fear that I would be putting myself directly in temptation's path.
I detest liars, thieves, and cheaters. And believe me when I say that someone who cheats on their spouse is all three in one. We so easily begin to resemble that which we hate. . .could I ever be an adulteress? Could I ever be so easily tempted? I don't think so, but I am very aware that my pride in my faithfulness could very well lead to faithlessness.
My friend smartly pointed out that I'm too much in love with my husband and our son to do anything to jeopardize this family. She's right about that because my family is my everything. I'm sure readers of this blog know how much my husband & son mean to me; they truly are as vital as the air that I breathe.
She also pointed out that my epiphany subject was old back then and that means that he's ancient now. She's not so right about that. He's only a few years older than my husband and I certainly don't think my hubs is "old" - let alone "ancient!"
She added that we probably wouldn't even recognize each other anyway since so much time has gone by and we surely have aged in the last twenty-years. Oh my, she is right about that! I was looking over some old photos of myself and, well, I look nothing like I did back then. I think I peaked (from a physically attractive standpoint) at around 19- or 20-years old. And it totally pains me to admit that was a long time ago. It sucks, but there you go.
I am an honest woman and I have discussed this potential problem at length with my husband. He knows about the entire relationship and he knows every intimate detail. Yeah, yeah, so I kiss & tell - to my spouse!
Yet he laughed at my concerns and basically advised me to stop worrying about silly situations that weren't likely to ever happen. After all, I go to this place with our son - that alone stops any sexy situations dead. I guess no one really wants to make time with a Mom. Additionally, we frequently are in the company of other mamas & toddlers - another sexual killer.
And that's even allowing for the thought that this man and I would still have this fiery hot connection burning between us. . .and, let's face it, we do not and we will not because the years would have eroded whatever it was that brought the two of us together. So, really, the chances to destroy my marriage are virtually nil.
My little boy and I went to this particular place the other day. We had a wonderful time with two other mamas and their children. I did not run into an old love and I didn't particularly worry about it either. My son gets so excited when he sees where we are going and I can't possibly trip down my own memory lane when my little boy is busily building his own memories.
The past is gone and I've never made a habit of going backward. So it is entirely possible (remotely possible, really) that I may see this man at some point. . .but I wasn't brought to him to have for life. However, I did voluntarily give myself to my husband in a ceremony that was witnessed by well over 100 of our friends and family. And that union brought forth our son. . .our wonderful son!
I am my beloved's and he is mine. No man will tear us apart; even a man who has known me in the distant past. I can confidently enjoy this venue because I do know that the love I have for my husband overrides any lust or nostalgia that I can possibly feel. Feelings, after all, are fleeting. But the love and admiration that I have for my husband is deeper than the oceans, higher than the sky, and sweeter than the most tender nectar. He is the harbor in which I seek refuge and life's storms will never tear me from his safe bay. To put it quite simply, I adore my husband and nothing that is of this world could pull me away from him.
So I will confidently enter this park and appreciate seeing the joy in my son's face. And I will leave the past where it belongs. . .solidly in the past.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Forgiveness, Fidelity, and Love
I almost posted this yesterday, but thought it was not a good post for Valentine's day. I suppose it's cool for the day after though.
I was talking with a friend a few days ago and the subject of infidelity came up. I have very definite opinions on infidelity; after all, that was what finally forced me to pull the plug on my first marriage. I find it interesting that of all things that I found so intolerable about that entire marriage, and there were many, infidelity was apparently where I drew the line and it was the only thing that I would not tolerate.
It would be understandable if I said that I find infidelity unacceptable because most people aren't exactly for cheating. . .but that's not exactly what I said to my friend. I told her that I thought one indiscretion or even a brief fling wasn't enough of a reason to scrap an otherwise good marriage. A boyfriend/girlfriend relationship, sure, but not a marriage.
I could hardly believe the hypocrisy of what I had said, considering infidelity is what ultimately made me sink the doomed ship that was my first marriage. I've been mulling over what I said and wondering why I said it, but I do believe it to be true. We are all human and there are times that we totally and completely screw up. Yes, sometimes we can even screw up so badly that we screw people other than our own spouse.
Would I be happy with the knowledge that my husband gave all of his love to another? Of course not! I divorced one husband over it (among other things) and I would not be pleased if this husband did the same, but this is a completely different marriage and I'm in a different place in my life. That's not to say that hubs is getting a free pass to knock one out with some chippy, I'm just saying that a good marriage shouldn't be destroyed by one colossal mistake. . .understand that I'm not saying that I find repeated indiscretions to be acceptable.
The problem (just one problem, mind you) with infidelity is that, once it has been discovered, it is nearly impossible for the betrayed spouse to remove it from their mind. You may forgive your spouse and want to move forward, but you will never completely forget what they have done. The pain and doubt will linger, causing you to do and think things that you hate; I've been there and done that.
Even innocent things seem suspicious at that point; arriving home a little late from work, getting a phone call at an odd hour, any changes from the normal routine. You ultimately find yourself pawing through their things for further evidence because trust has been violated. Indeed, my rifling through my ex-husband's stuff yielded far more dirt than I ever could have imagined. . .and I have a pretty wild imagination!
What's the most important quality in a relationship? I think it's love and forgiveness naturally flows from love. After all, forgiveness is one of the greatest expressions of love. None of us has the right to get on our high horse and lord anything over our spouse and, if you truly love, you can truly forgive.
What are your thoughts? Am I growing altogether too libertine in my age or does this actually make sense to anyone else?
I was talking with a friend a few days ago and the subject of infidelity came up. I have very definite opinions on infidelity; after all, that was what finally forced me to pull the plug on my first marriage. I find it interesting that of all things that I found so intolerable about that entire marriage, and there were many, infidelity was apparently where I drew the line and it was the only thing that I would not tolerate.
It would be understandable if I said that I find infidelity unacceptable because most people aren't exactly for cheating. . .but that's not exactly what I said to my friend. I told her that I thought one indiscretion or even a brief fling wasn't enough of a reason to scrap an otherwise good marriage. A boyfriend/girlfriend relationship, sure, but not a marriage.
I could hardly believe the hypocrisy of what I had said, considering infidelity is what ultimately made me sink the doomed ship that was my first marriage. I've been mulling over what I said and wondering why I said it, but I do believe it to be true. We are all human and there are times that we totally and completely screw up. Yes, sometimes we can even screw up so badly that we screw people other than our own spouse.
Would I be happy with the knowledge that my husband gave all of his love to another? Of course not! I divorced one husband over it (among other things) and I would not be pleased if this husband did the same, but this is a completely different marriage and I'm in a different place in my life. That's not to say that hubs is getting a free pass to knock one out with some chippy, I'm just saying that a good marriage shouldn't be destroyed by one colossal mistake. . .understand that I'm not saying that I find repeated indiscretions to be acceptable.
The problem (just one problem, mind you) with infidelity is that, once it has been discovered, it is nearly impossible for the betrayed spouse to remove it from their mind. You may forgive your spouse and want to move forward, but you will never completely forget what they have done. The pain and doubt will linger, causing you to do and think things that you hate; I've been there and done that.
Even innocent things seem suspicious at that point; arriving home a little late from work, getting a phone call at an odd hour, any changes from the normal routine. You ultimately find yourself pawing through their things for further evidence because trust has been violated. Indeed, my rifling through my ex-husband's stuff yielded far more dirt than I ever could have imagined. . .and I have a pretty wild imagination!
What's the most important quality in a relationship? I think it's love and forgiveness naturally flows from love. After all, forgiveness is one of the greatest expressions of love. None of us has the right to get on our high horse and lord anything over our spouse and, if you truly love, you can truly forgive.
What are your thoughts? Am I growing altogether too libertine in my age or does this actually make sense to anyone else?
Monday, February 14, 2011
Happy V Day
Hubs and I enjoyed a lovely evening out with two other couples tonight. It's been a long time since we've socialized with other adults and zero children, far too long, and I needed it tonight. I'm feeling good and mellow so I'm taking the night off from blogging.
I hope you had a happy V day too. And, for once, "V" is not a reference to vagina. . .or is it?!
I hope you had a happy V day too. And, for once, "V" is not a reference to vagina. . .or is it?!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
I'm a Widow
An iPhone widow, that is. Rest easy, my hubs isn't going anywhere anytime soon!
I want to send the biggest nasty-gram to Verizon for getting the iPhone because this stupid damned phone is rapidly becoming a wedge in my marriage. I semi-jokingly refer to my husband's iPhone as his girlfriend. Notice that I said "semi." He's so enamoured with this freaking phone that I am officially jealous.
I realize there is hypocrisy at work here. I am very chummy with my Magic Wand. Oh, I adore the Magic Wand and it is absolutely my favorite "appliance". . .but I don't ignore my husband so I can make out with my favorite vibrator. And I certainly don't tote it around with me!
I'm still incredibly desirous of my husband, even after nearly six-years of marriage, but I sometimes think he'd rather than play with his bitch iPhone than his young and horny wife. We had a rare night out to dinner without our little boy the other night to celebrate my husband's 55th birthday. I was stunned when he pulled his stupid friggin' phone out at the table once he'd finished his meal. I actually told him that it was bad taste to play with his girlfriend while his wife was at the table. Then I drowned my sorrow and frustration in a Grey Goose martini, straight up, with two olives.
Later that night, I damn near jumped off of him when I discovered the iPhone lounging so languid on my husband's bedside table. Seriously? She spends the night in our bedroom too?! The Blackberry never did, but the iPhone does. Umm, okay.
So what's the nerdy appeal at work here? Why is this phone so damn captivating? It can't suck him off, it can't eagerly spread it's legs, it can't do anything that I can and will do, but it gets more attention than I do. What the heck is the deal? I finally told him that he should just fuck it already. Is there an app for that??
He tells me that I just don't understand because I don't have an iPhone. Perhaps I don't understand. I'm not a big dork and I don't give a crap about electronic stuff so I'll likely never understand. But I still had to grit my teeth when he dragged me to the Apple store in the stupid mall on a friggin' Sunday so he could purchase baubles for his new love. I notice that I didn't get any new baubles. . .
I have discovered that I'm not the only iPhone widow. It appears that the iPhone seduces any man it comes in contact with and I know several frustrated wives. Are you an iPhone philanderer or an iPhone widow? Please share your experiences below!
I want to send the biggest nasty-gram to Verizon for getting the iPhone because this stupid damned phone is rapidly becoming a wedge in my marriage. I semi-jokingly refer to my husband's iPhone as his girlfriend. Notice that I said "semi." He's so enamoured with this freaking phone that I am officially jealous.
I realize there is hypocrisy at work here. I am very chummy with my Magic Wand. Oh, I adore the Magic Wand and it is absolutely my favorite "appliance". . .but I don't ignore my husband so I can make out with my favorite vibrator. And I certainly don't tote it around with me!
I'm still incredibly desirous of my husband, even after nearly six-years of marriage, but I sometimes think he'd rather than play with his bitch iPhone than his young and horny wife. We had a rare night out to dinner without our little boy the other night to celebrate my husband's 55th birthday. I was stunned when he pulled his stupid friggin' phone out at the table once he'd finished his meal. I actually told him that it was bad taste to play with his girlfriend while his wife was at the table. Then I drowned my sorrow and frustration in a Grey Goose martini, straight up, with two olives.
Later that night, I damn near jumped off of him when I discovered the iPhone lounging so languid on my husband's bedside table. Seriously? She spends the night in our bedroom too?! The Blackberry never did, but the iPhone does. Umm, okay.
So what's the nerdy appeal at work here? Why is this phone so damn captivating? It can't suck him off, it can't eagerly spread it's legs, it can't do anything that I can and will do, but it gets more attention than I do. What the heck is the deal? I finally told him that he should just fuck it already. Is there an app for that??
He tells me that I just don't understand because I don't have an iPhone. Perhaps I don't understand. I'm not a big dork and I don't give a crap about electronic stuff so I'll likely never understand. But I still had to grit my teeth when he dragged me to the Apple store in the stupid mall on a friggin' Sunday so he could purchase baubles for his new love. I notice that I didn't get any new baubles. . .
I have discovered that I'm not the only iPhone widow. It appears that the iPhone seduces any man it comes in contact with and I know several frustrated wives. Are you an iPhone philanderer or an iPhone widow? Please share your experiences below!
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
A Sexy Questionnaire
A friend requested some more sexy stuff in my blog and I'm happy to oblige, but I want to get a little info about the readership so I came up with this questionnaire. It looks long, but should only take 5-10 minutes to complete. I think I covered everything, but feel free to elaborate if I missed anything that you'd like to share.
Please copy and paste this questionnaire into the comment box below and input your own information. Do make the comment anonymously because I want truthful answers. You can always send your answer to bloggymcbloggerstein@gmail.com but be aware that I'll probably know who sent the questionnaire in if you go that route.
What is your gender?
What is your age?
What is your sexual orientation?
At what age did you lose your virginity?
How many sexual partners have you had?
Are you in a relationship?
If so, how long have you been with your significant other?
How often do you engage in vaginal sex in a given week?
How often do you engage in anal sex in a given week?
How often to you give or receive oral sex in a given week?
Have any of these numbers measurably changed since the early days of your relationship?
Do you use any sex toys in the bedroom? If so, which ones?
Do you role play? If so, what do you like? Example: teacher/student, employer/employee, etc.
Do you try any BDSM? If so, what?
Do you swing or have an open relationship?
What is your opinion on porn?
What kind of porn do you like?
What kind of porn do you not like?
Do you look at/watch porn with your significant other?
Do you look at/watch porn by yourself? If so, does your significant other know?
Do you think or know that your significant other looks at/watches porn without you?
Have you ever found bedroom inspiration in porn?
How is your pubic region groomed: hardwood, Berber, or shag?
How is your significant other's pubic region groomed?
How do you prefer genitals to be groomed?
Has porn influenced your pubic grooming habits and preferences?
Have you ever cheated on your significant other?
Have you ever cheated on anyone?
If you have, was it with a stranger or someone you know?
Was your primary relationship destroyed from the indiscretion?
Have you ever been cheated on? If so, did it destroy your relationship?
Is there anything that you prefer not to do in the bedroom? If so, what?
Is there anything that you absolutely will not do in the bedroom? If so, what?
If you have anything that's off the table, can you elaborate on why?
Is sex an important part of your relationship (or relationships)?
How often do you orgasm with your significant other in a given week?
How often do you orgasm by yourself in a given week?
To the best of your knowledge, how often does your partner orgasm in a given week?
Anything else? Please share.
Please copy and paste this questionnaire into the comment box below and input your own information. Do make the comment anonymously because I want truthful answers. You can always send your answer to bloggymcbloggerstein@gmail.com but be aware that I'll probably know who sent the questionnaire in if you go that route.
* * *
What is your gender?
What is your age?
What is your sexual orientation?
At what age did you lose your virginity?
How many sexual partners have you had?
Are you in a relationship?
If so, how long have you been with your significant other?
How often do you engage in vaginal sex in a given week?
How often do you engage in anal sex in a given week?
How often to you give or receive oral sex in a given week?
Have any of these numbers measurably changed since the early days of your relationship?
Do you use any sex toys in the bedroom? If so, which ones?
Do you role play? If so, what do you like? Example: teacher/student, employer/employee, etc.
Do you try any BDSM? If so, what?
Do you swing or have an open relationship?
What is your opinion on porn?
What kind of porn do you like?
What kind of porn do you not like?
Do you look at/watch porn with your significant other?
Do you look at/watch porn by yourself? If so, does your significant other know?
Do you think or know that your significant other looks at/watches porn without you?
Have you ever found bedroom inspiration in porn?
How is your pubic region groomed: hardwood, Berber, or shag?
How is your significant other's pubic region groomed?
How do you prefer genitals to be groomed?
Has porn influenced your pubic grooming habits and preferences?
Have you ever cheated on your significant other?
Have you ever cheated on anyone?
If you have, was it with a stranger or someone you know?
Was your primary relationship destroyed from the indiscretion?
Have you ever been cheated on? If so, did it destroy your relationship?
Is there anything that you prefer not to do in the bedroom? If so, what?
Is there anything that you absolutely will not do in the bedroom? If so, what?
If you have anything that's off the table, can you elaborate on why?
Is sex an important part of your relationship (or relationships)?
How often do you orgasm with your significant other in a given week?
How often do you orgasm by yourself in a given week?
To the best of your knowledge, how often does your partner orgasm in a given week?
Anything else? Please share.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Sex Isn't Very Important. . .
if you don't have a good sex life.
Come on, you didn't really think I'd say sex wasn't important without tacking on that last part, did you?!
I've been told that sex isn't very important by several people over the years. I initially bought the line because I'm a romantic at heart, but I've come to form the opposite opinion. I think it is very important because, well, I like sex and I don't care if that makes me sound whorish or not.
I mean, I like sex so much that I can't understand why someone just doesn't care about it. I can not wrap my head around such a thought. It feels great and it makes you feel connected (literally and figuratively) to another person! Why wouldn't you like it?
I've only heard the "sex isn't all that important" line from women and I wonder why. Is it that sex is such a charged issue to women that they can't just go for it even if that means denying an immense amount of pleasure? Is it that so many women were sexually abused or mistreated in some fashion so they have a hard time accepting sexual desire because it caused such hurt? Is it that somewhere inside we think that fish really don't need bicycles? Or is it an entirely different reason?
I'm not exactly a shrinking virgin and I lost my cherry at a shockingly young age, though it wasn't so shocking to me at the time. I have sometimes wondered why I let someone pluck my sweet peach when it was barely ripening. I don't really have an answer other than it seemed to be the thing to do back in those days. I guess I didn't buy the "nice girls don't put out" line, eh? And I've always thought that a fish would really appreciate a good bicycle!
So I have a rather lengthy sexual history, relative to my age, and I know myself pretty well in the bedroom. If I'm in a relationship and we go any length of time without sex, I start to pick apart and question the entire relationship. It doesn't take long before I'm wondering if there's an unspoken reason for the lack of lovemaking; some resentment, infidelity, or just plain ol' boredom. If I go any long length of time without an orgasm (whether anyone else is involved or not), I start feeling dissatisfied with my entire life and I become somewhat confrontational without that release. Orgasms are a joyous thing and I miss them terribly when they are gone. I'm aware that I probably sound like a guy right about now, but I can assure you that I'm all-woman.
Perhaps you're thinking that I must have been sexualized at a young age or that I suffer some deep-seated psychological damage. Perhaps you'd be right or perhaps not. I have noted that women who were sexually abused tend to go only one of two ways: they either need sex to feel any value & self-worth or they detest sex & hate penis.
I need sex to feel connected with my husband, not to feel my own value. There's no way I can describe how it feels to have all of your love inside. . .and I mean that in the most literal way possible. It's a thing of beauty and a gift.
Look, I'm not saying sex is the most important thing in a relationship because it's not - not by a long shot. Fidelity, forgiveness, honesty, friendship, kindness, respect and stuff like that are more important than sex, but sex is still pretty damn important in my book. Speak anonymously if you'd like, but what do you say on the matter?
Hm, looks like I've uncovered yet another reason why my husband nabbed me and took me for his own as soon as I was back on the market.
Come on, you didn't really think I'd say sex wasn't important without tacking on that last part, did you?!
I've been told that sex isn't very important by several people over the years. I initially bought the line because I'm a romantic at heart, but I've come to form the opposite opinion. I think it is very important because, well, I like sex and I don't care if that makes me sound whorish or not.
I mean, I like sex so much that I can't understand why someone just doesn't care about it. I can not wrap my head around such a thought. It feels great and it makes you feel connected (literally and figuratively) to another person! Why wouldn't you like it?
I've only heard the "sex isn't all that important" line from women and I wonder why. Is it that sex is such a charged issue to women that they can't just go for it even if that means denying an immense amount of pleasure? Is it that so many women were sexually abused or mistreated in some fashion so they have a hard time accepting sexual desire because it caused such hurt? Is it that somewhere inside we think that fish really don't need bicycles? Or is it an entirely different reason?
I'm not exactly a shrinking virgin and I lost my cherry at a shockingly young age, though it wasn't so shocking to me at the time. I have sometimes wondered why I let someone pluck my sweet peach when it was barely ripening. I don't really have an answer other than it seemed to be the thing to do back in those days. I guess I didn't buy the "nice girls don't put out" line, eh? And I've always thought that a fish would really appreciate a good bicycle!
So I have a rather lengthy sexual history, relative to my age, and I know myself pretty well in the bedroom. If I'm in a relationship and we go any length of time without sex, I start to pick apart and question the entire relationship. It doesn't take long before I'm wondering if there's an unspoken reason for the lack of lovemaking; some resentment, infidelity, or just plain ol' boredom. If I go any long length of time without an orgasm (whether anyone else is involved or not), I start feeling dissatisfied with my entire life and I become somewhat confrontational without that release. Orgasms are a joyous thing and I miss them terribly when they are gone. I'm aware that I probably sound like a guy right about now, but I can assure you that I'm all-woman.
Perhaps you're thinking that I must have been sexualized at a young age or that I suffer some deep-seated psychological damage. Perhaps you'd be right or perhaps not. I have noted that women who were sexually abused tend to go only one of two ways: they either need sex to feel any value & self-worth or they detest sex & hate penis.
I need sex to feel connected with my husband, not to feel my own value. There's no way I can describe how it feels to have all of your love inside. . .and I mean that in the most literal way possible. It's a thing of beauty and a gift.
Look, I'm not saying sex is the most important thing in a relationship because it's not - not by a long shot. Fidelity, forgiveness, honesty, friendship, kindness, respect and stuff like that are more important than sex, but sex is still pretty damn important in my book. Speak anonymously if you'd like, but what do you say on the matter?
Hm, looks like I've uncovered yet another reason why my husband nabbed me and took me for his own as soon as I was back on the market.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
I've Had an Epiphany. . .that is Probably Obvious to Everyone!
I'm so excited to report that I've had an epiphany!
I've always thought it was weird when someone has a very definite "type" that they're interested in, but have noticed that I'm extremely predictable when it comes to the men I pick for dating, mating, and marriage. I know that I've mentioned my proclivities in this blog, but I only realized today that I've had a "type" since I was a teenager. We're always the last to know what's patently obvious to the rest of the world, right?
Desires change over time and, when I was a young teen, I had preferences that differ somewhat from my current choices. In a nutshell, I wouldn't look twice if they didn't have dark skin, hair, and eyes. No blond-haired or blue-eyed albinos were gonna get a piece of my action! I used to joke with my BFF that I was like the UN of dating because every ethnicity and nationality was equally represented. Of course, that's a little bit of an exaggeration!
I was busily watching mid-70s era Eric Clapton videos on youtube while my son napped this afternoon. Shocking, huh? Anyway, I was admiring his full head of hair, his face full of fuzz, and his skinny hips when it hit me - I've been attracted to this look since I was around 17-years old. I'm not saying that I felt all tingly in my girlie parts when looking at 65-year old men, but I'm also not saying that I didn't. In case you're interested, I did today!
But I realized why I like that "type" and it was a revelation to me. I was with a man who sported that exact look back in 1992 or so. We weren't exactly boyfriend-girlfriend in that it wasn't a societally appropriate relationship and I never considered bringing him to meet my parents, but he was absolutely taken with me and I thought he was just wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
Over the years, I've often thought with disdain about the men who were with my under-aged self. As an adult, I find it repugnant that grown men would take advantage of such a young girl. Sure, I was hot to trot, but I was still a friggin' kid and they should have practiced a little self-control.
Interestingly, I've never lumped this particular man in with that group for some damn reason - and he was far & away the oldest to have me! Why do I give him a pass? I don't know. I guess because he loved me. And, oh, how he loved me. Even as a young girl, I could see that I was a feminized ideal to him. I was the Yoko to his John and he was so smitten. Just over the moon. He made me feel perfect and lovely, two things that I haven't felt very frequently. He cherished me and, though I loved him the best I could and I felt alive and free when I was with him, I could not stop myself from pushing him away.
Was it the 25-year age difference? Was it the knowledge that he didn't have and never wanted children? Was it that I feared my parents' certain negative response? I think it was all of those things and the fact that I actively sabotaged my own happiness for many, many years. In hindsight, I know that I could have been happy with him.
I've thought of him often over the years. . .wondering if he replaced me in his heart and yearning to see him just once more. Did he ever find someone more perfectly lovely than me? I hope he did, but on some selfish & childish level, I hope he didn't because I loved being that piece of feminine perfection for someone.
I can't listen to Cat Stevens sing Wild World without thinking of him. I can't see a specific print without thinking of him. I can't give a bearded man a hug & kiss without thinking of him for just a fleeting moment. And, I suppose in some weird way, I desire the men I desire because I never lost my desire and admiration for this particular man.
My husband and I have discussed this relationship a time or two and hubs is fairly disgusted by it all. Not that he's jealous (if you know my hubs you know that he's one of the most confident men on the planet), but that he thinks this man was a total freaking pervert. Yes, 25-years is a big freaking difference when one person in the relationship is only 17. Yes, it was illegal as it gets. Yes, I can understand that some people just won't understand.
But I maintain that if my husband knew my 17-year old self, he'd also find it impossible to resist my charms. Long dark hair straight down to my waist, only weighed around 115-pounds, teeny-tiny waist with nicely rounded hips, and a free & loose attitude toward sex. Damn, I think I just turned myself on by talking about myself!
Really though, hubs should probably send this man a Thank You note because he opened my eyes to the excitement that can only be found with significantly older lovers. Yeah, a 19-year old kid might bang you all night long, but a man knows how to take his time, how to get all cylinders firing, how to take direction, and how to satisfy intellectually. Perhaps that last bit only applies to me, but I can not get stimulated sexually if I'm intellectually strangled.
So there it is; that's my epiphany. My love of older and bewhiskered men is directly traceable to one man. Sometimes I find it crazy how your past shapes your present and your future.
Wherever he is now, I hope he has the same happiness that I experience. . .and I still kind of wonder if he ever fondly remembers me.
I've always thought it was weird when someone has a very definite "type" that they're interested in, but have noticed that I'm extremely predictable when it comes to the men I pick for dating, mating, and marriage. I know that I've mentioned my proclivities in this blog, but I only realized today that I've had a "type" since I was a teenager. We're always the last to know what's patently obvious to the rest of the world, right?
Desires change over time and, when I was a young teen, I had preferences that differ somewhat from my current choices. In a nutshell, I wouldn't look twice if they didn't have dark skin, hair, and eyes. No blond-haired or blue-eyed albinos were gonna get a piece of my action! I used to joke with my BFF that I was like the UN of dating because every ethnicity and nationality was equally represented. Of course, that's a little bit of an exaggeration!
I was busily watching mid-70s era Eric Clapton videos on youtube while my son napped this afternoon. Shocking, huh? Anyway, I was admiring his full head of hair, his face full of fuzz, and his skinny hips when it hit me - I've been attracted to this look since I was around 17-years old. I'm not saying that I felt all tingly in my girlie parts when looking at 65-year old men, but I'm also not saying that I didn't. In case you're interested, I did today!
But I realized why I like that "type" and it was a revelation to me. I was with a man who sported that exact look back in 1992 or so. We weren't exactly boyfriend-girlfriend in that it wasn't a societally appropriate relationship and I never considered bringing him to meet my parents, but he was absolutely taken with me and I thought he was just wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
Over the years, I've often thought with disdain about the men who were with my under-aged self. As an adult, I find it repugnant that grown men would take advantage of such a young girl. Sure, I was hot to trot, but I was still a friggin' kid and they should have practiced a little self-control.
Interestingly, I've never lumped this particular man in with that group for some damn reason - and he was far & away the oldest to have me! Why do I give him a pass? I don't know. I guess because he loved me. And, oh, how he loved me. Even as a young girl, I could see that I was a feminized ideal to him. I was the Yoko to his John and he was so smitten. Just over the moon. He made me feel perfect and lovely, two things that I haven't felt very frequently. He cherished me and, though I loved him the best I could and I felt alive and free when I was with him, I could not stop myself from pushing him away.
Was it the 25-year age difference? Was it the knowledge that he didn't have and never wanted children? Was it that I feared my parents' certain negative response? I think it was all of those things and the fact that I actively sabotaged my own happiness for many, many years. In hindsight, I know that I could have been happy with him.
I've thought of him often over the years. . .wondering if he replaced me in his heart and yearning to see him just once more. Did he ever find someone more perfectly lovely than me? I hope he did, but on some selfish & childish level, I hope he didn't because I loved being that piece of feminine perfection for someone.
I can't listen to Cat Stevens sing Wild World without thinking of him. I can't see a specific print without thinking of him. I can't give a bearded man a hug & kiss without thinking of him for just a fleeting moment. And, I suppose in some weird way, I desire the men I desire because I never lost my desire and admiration for this particular man.
My husband and I have discussed this relationship a time or two and hubs is fairly disgusted by it all. Not that he's jealous (if you know my hubs you know that he's one of the most confident men on the planet), but that he thinks this man was a total freaking pervert. Yes, 25-years is a big freaking difference when one person in the relationship is only 17. Yes, it was illegal as it gets. Yes, I can understand that some people just won't understand.
But I maintain that if my husband knew my 17-year old self, he'd also find it impossible to resist my charms. Long dark hair straight down to my waist, only weighed around 115-pounds, teeny-tiny waist with nicely rounded hips, and a free & loose attitude toward sex. Damn, I think I just turned myself on by talking about myself!
Really though, hubs should probably send this man a Thank You note because he opened my eyes to the excitement that can only be found with significantly older lovers. Yeah, a 19-year old kid might bang you all night long, but a man knows how to take his time, how to get all cylinders firing, how to take direction, and how to satisfy intellectually. Perhaps that last bit only applies to me, but I can not get stimulated sexually if I'm intellectually strangled.
So there it is; that's my epiphany. My love of older and bewhiskered men is directly traceable to one man. Sometimes I find it crazy how your past shapes your present and your future.
Wherever he is now, I hope he has the same happiness that I experience. . .and I still kind of wonder if he ever fondly remembers me.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Peace At Last
I thought I'd write a quick update since I had my doctor's appointment this afternoon.
First, the unwavering love and support that I've received from my husband has proved invaluable in this situation. I have generally felt upside down, but he's been solid as a rock. I know that he's been concerned about my mental condition as well as my physical health, but he's wisely held his tongue and only offered counsel when I've asked for his advice. He's held me when I've needed the comfort of his strong arms and he stays away when I need my solitude. This situation could have been completely intolerable with another man, but his steadiness has kept me from totally losing balance and perspective.
Secondly, having a warm and compassionate doctor has been a tremendous blessing to me. I went to the ER and received the news that my baby had died on a Saturday afternoon and by 5:00 that evening, my doctor had sent me a condolence message. He also explained what I could expect to occur by taking the "wait & see" approach. I don't get the impression that he tried to scare me into any other option, he just wanted me to be aware and prepared for the experience. Did I mention that he did this at 5:00 on a Saturday evening?!
My husband was not with me when I received the news that our baby had died. The ER doctor simply walked in and said, "Your baby doesn't have a heartbeat. I'm sending in a gynecologist to discuss how to remove it." IT! This baby was already named and, yet, he said "it." I was less than thrilled with his bedside manner, but I understand that it's probably all too easy to be calloused in that situation. Who can even guess how many women he's had to give the same bad news to or how much it pained him at one time.
I saw my doctor this afternoon. He said something about obstetrics being such an odd practice in that he sees people at their happiest and sometimes he sees them in the saddest circumstances. He made a point to say that there is absolutely no reason to blame myself for this loss and that there is absolutely no reason why we can't try to conceive another child in a month or two if we're ready to try again.
He conducted a brief pelvic exam and found that my cervix is still tightly shut. As if it's not awkward enough for my husband to watch another guy get to third base with me, I had on a dress and didn't bother with a gown so I basically let the doctor get a little upskirt action. That's a joke. Um, except not really. Yeah, this is why I don't do funny - no worries, I won't quit my day job!
Anyway, then he performed a trans-vag ultrasound. What can I say? Miracles can and do happen, but a miracle did not happen in this case. He looked and looked, but there was still no heartbeat.
My dumb-ass body apparently still hasn't got the message that my baby has died because my amniotic sac has grown quite large in the last two weeks. Super lame. I'm ashamed now that I had to look away from the screen and couldn't stand seeing my baby still in that sac.
I fixed my gaze on the ceiling because I couldn't possibly look at the heartbreak on that screen. My tears felt hot as they silently fell from my eyes and trickled into my ears. I clenched my hands tightly and my body shook a little as I struggled to not cry out when he confirmed that the baby was still there and that it was not living. Don't get me wrong, he was perfectly kind, but I hated what he had to say. Who wouldn't hate hearing it?
He helped me back into a sitting position, my foot slipped and I damn near kicked him in the junk. Yes, I'm the jerky kind of patient who laughed at the near-miss so I'm apparently the target demographic for, "Ow, My Balls." Who knew?
He gave me three options: Continue to let nature take it's course, take the pills (seems weird to say "take" since they get put up your vadge and not down your mouth, but whatever), or have the D & C. He laid out the pros and cons of each course of action, said it's my decision, and even said that I didn't have to decide anything right that moment.
I was not pressured in the least. He didn't heavily campaign for any option and remained impartial. This was entirely my decision. Even my husband didn't say a word one way or the other.
And I chose to have the D & C. I wasn't pressured at all and, dammitall, I chose the fucking D & C. I looked down and could meet neither my husband's eyes nor my physician's when I said that I just want it out as soon as possible. If my lips hadn't been moving, I wouldn't have believed it was my own voice saying such a thing.
Perhaps one day I will be able to articulate why I so do not want this procedure. I don't want it. I really don't. But I can not stand carrying this child any longer. The knowledge of what happens to living tissue once it is no longer living is making me crazy. I know that, little by little, this child of mine is deteriorating and breaking up inside of me. Mentally, I can not take that knowledge any longer. I wish I could, oh how I wish I could!, but I'm just not strong enough emotionally to take it.
So there you have it. This experience has forced me to voluntarily chose to undergo a procedure that I swore I would never, never, never experience again. I'm scheduled for Thursday. I know that it is an easy recovery from a physical standpoint, but I am concerned about the emotional toll. It appears that I'll be wounded no matter which course of action I chose to take.
Oddly enough, I feel more at peace now than I have been in the last two-weeks. I have accepted/acknowledged that this baby has died and I'm fairly certain, hopeful anyway, that I will be back to my old self in short order. How I'll feel about the D & C is another topic, but that's one that I'll hold close to my own heart.
I have Wordless Wednesday coming up for tomorrow. . .I hope I can find some pervy-looking produce in our backyard. Perhaps I'll find a penis gourd?? Nah, I don't have a freaky harvest to reap. . .
First, the unwavering love and support that I've received from my husband has proved invaluable in this situation. I have generally felt upside down, but he's been solid as a rock. I know that he's been concerned about my mental condition as well as my physical health, but he's wisely held his tongue and only offered counsel when I've asked for his advice. He's held me when I've needed the comfort of his strong arms and he stays away when I need my solitude. This situation could have been completely intolerable with another man, but his steadiness has kept me from totally losing balance and perspective.
Secondly, having a warm and compassionate doctor has been a tremendous blessing to me. I went to the ER and received the news that my baby had died on a Saturday afternoon and by 5:00 that evening, my doctor had sent me a condolence message. He also explained what I could expect to occur by taking the "wait & see" approach. I don't get the impression that he tried to scare me into any other option, he just wanted me to be aware and prepared for the experience. Did I mention that he did this at 5:00 on a Saturday evening?!
My husband was not with me when I received the news that our baby had died. The ER doctor simply walked in and said, "Your baby doesn't have a heartbeat. I'm sending in a gynecologist to discuss how to remove it." IT! This baby was already named and, yet, he said "it." I was less than thrilled with his bedside manner, but I understand that it's probably all too easy to be calloused in that situation. Who can even guess how many women he's had to give the same bad news to or how much it pained him at one time.
I saw my doctor this afternoon. He said something about obstetrics being such an odd practice in that he sees people at their happiest and sometimes he sees them in the saddest circumstances. He made a point to say that there is absolutely no reason to blame myself for this loss and that there is absolutely no reason why we can't try to conceive another child in a month or two if we're ready to try again.
He conducted a brief pelvic exam and found that my cervix is still tightly shut. As if it's not awkward enough for my husband to watch another guy get to third base with me, I had on a dress and didn't bother with a gown so I basically let the doctor get a little upskirt action. That's a joke. Um, except not really. Yeah, this is why I don't do funny - no worries, I won't quit my day job!
Anyway, then he performed a trans-vag ultrasound. What can I say? Miracles can and do happen, but a miracle did not happen in this case. He looked and looked, but there was still no heartbeat.
My dumb-ass body apparently still hasn't got the message that my baby has died because my amniotic sac has grown quite large in the last two weeks. Super lame. I'm ashamed now that I had to look away from the screen and couldn't stand seeing my baby still in that sac.
I fixed my gaze on the ceiling because I couldn't possibly look at the heartbreak on that screen. My tears felt hot as they silently fell from my eyes and trickled into my ears. I clenched my hands tightly and my body shook a little as I struggled to not cry out when he confirmed that the baby was still there and that it was not living. Don't get me wrong, he was perfectly kind, but I hated what he had to say. Who wouldn't hate hearing it?
He helped me back into a sitting position, my foot slipped and I damn near kicked him in the junk. Yes, I'm the jerky kind of patient who laughed at the near-miss so I'm apparently the target demographic for, "Ow, My Balls." Who knew?
He gave me three options: Continue to let nature take it's course, take the pills (seems weird to say "take" since they get put up your vadge and not down your mouth, but whatever), or have the D & C. He laid out the pros and cons of each course of action, said it's my decision, and even said that I didn't have to decide anything right that moment.
I was not pressured in the least. He didn't heavily campaign for any option and remained impartial. This was entirely my decision. Even my husband didn't say a word one way or the other.
And I chose to have the D & C. I wasn't pressured at all and, dammitall, I chose the fucking D & C. I looked down and could meet neither my husband's eyes nor my physician's when I said that I just want it out as soon as possible. If my lips hadn't been moving, I wouldn't have believed it was my own voice saying such a thing.
Perhaps one day I will be able to articulate why I so do not want this procedure. I don't want it. I really don't. But I can not stand carrying this child any longer. The knowledge of what happens to living tissue once it is no longer living is making me crazy. I know that, little by little, this child of mine is deteriorating and breaking up inside of me. Mentally, I can not take that knowledge any longer. I wish I could, oh how I wish I could!, but I'm just not strong enough emotionally to take it.
So there you have it. This experience has forced me to voluntarily chose to undergo a procedure that I swore I would never, never, never experience again. I'm scheduled for Thursday. I know that it is an easy recovery from a physical standpoint, but I am concerned about the emotional toll. It appears that I'll be wounded no matter which course of action I chose to take.
Oddly enough, I feel more at peace now than I have been in the last two-weeks. I have accepted/acknowledged that this baby has died and I'm fairly certain, hopeful anyway, that I will be back to my old self in short order. How I'll feel about the D & C is another topic, but that's one that I'll hold close to my own heart.
* * *
I have Wordless Wednesday coming up for tomorrow. . .I hope I can find some pervy-looking produce in our backyard. Perhaps I'll find a penis gourd?? Nah, I don't have a freaky harvest to reap. . .
Grief PSA - Part II
I wrote a lot of posts about grief after my brother passed away last September. Most of those posts were read a lot and shared by many readers. I've noted that sometimes people just don't know what to do or say around someone who is grieving and that is what prompted me to write the first Grief PSA post.
I'm writing this post because it's clear to me that most people don't know what to say to someone who is hurting after a miscarriage. I don't think the people who have said these things to me are trying to be hurtful, at least I hope not, but these words do carry quite the sting at the moment.
DON'T SAY:
- You just need to relax. Every single time that I hear this, and it has been a lot, I want to reply, "And you just need to STFU." If it were only so easy as simply relaxing. If only! I might add that this line in particular pisses me off because, let's face it, it puts the blame for the entire thing on the woman who has lost her baby. How wonderfully kind and loving, eh?
- At least the baby wasn't born. True, the baby wasn't born. It wasn't born because it died before it could be born. This was, in fact, a real and living baby at one point and now it is not.
- At least you didn't get too attached. As someone who intentionally had been trying to conceive, I can say that this baby was a very real and loved family member to me from the moment that conception was suspected. Attachment and love already existed even in the earliest days.
- It wasn't even a baby yet so I don't know why you're so upset. Fine, let's argue semantics. Sure, it's technically called a fetus. It's a fetus with arms, legs, fingers, toes, a heart. . .it was very wanted, already loved, and it was living at one time. Now it's heart has stopped and that's why it's so upsetting. What was alive is not living any longer.
- Your baby was probably messed up so this is a blessing. No, no it isn't. Any baby is a gift, regardless of the so-called imperfections.
- You're being stupid/silly/crazy/irrational/fill-in-the-blank. And you're being cold and heartless, so what's your point and how does this help the person who is grieving?
- Get over it, this happens to a lot of women and you don't see them carrying on about it for weeks on end. Yes, this does happen to a lot of women, but this happened to me and I'm still hurting over it. Perhaps insensitive comments such as these are why most women don't feel that they can talk about it? And I can't say that I blame them for suffering in silence because these "helpful" comments are anything but helpful.
DO SAY:
There really isn't anything to say, is there? A simple, "I'm sorry," would suffice if you feel the need to say anything.
If you've experienced a miscarriage, it may be helpful to share your story with the person who has recently lost their baby. I was shocked at how many women I know who have experienced a similar situation, but I was comforted by their words and encouragement. Some went on to have perfectly healthy pregnancies and others did not. Some lost their babies before they even knew they were pregnant, and others ended in a stillbirth. No matter how far along they were, all experienced hurt and grief when they lost their baby.
Why do I mention these things? Because it is perfectly normal and natural to grieve over a lost baby! I'll repeat it in case that didn't come across loud and clear: It is perfectly normal and natural to grieve over a lost baby! I think it would be suspect if I didn't care. However, I also acknowledge that other people grieve differently so I'm not saying there is anything wrong if one doesn't grieve for a miscarried baby. There's no right or wrong when it comes to grief. It just is what it is and we all feel loss and experience grief differently.
Perhaps one day my story, as documented in this blog, will serve as comfort and encouragement to another woman who is suffering. And, if that's the case, then I suppose this experience is worth the present pain.
I'm writing this post because it's clear to me that most people don't know what to say to someone who is hurting after a miscarriage. I don't think the people who have said these things to me are trying to be hurtful, at least I hope not, but these words do carry quite the sting at the moment.
DON'T SAY:
- You just need to relax. Every single time that I hear this, and it has been a lot, I want to reply, "And you just need to STFU." If it were only so easy as simply relaxing. If only! I might add that this line in particular pisses me off because, let's face it, it puts the blame for the entire thing on the woman who has lost her baby. How wonderfully kind and loving, eh?
- At least the baby wasn't born. True, the baby wasn't born. It wasn't born because it died before it could be born. This was, in fact, a real and living baby at one point and now it is not.
- At least you didn't get too attached. As someone who intentionally had been trying to conceive, I can say that this baby was a very real and loved family member to me from the moment that conception was suspected. Attachment and love already existed even in the earliest days.
- It wasn't even a baby yet so I don't know why you're so upset. Fine, let's argue semantics. Sure, it's technically called a fetus. It's a fetus with arms, legs, fingers, toes, a heart. . .it was very wanted, already loved, and it was living at one time. Now it's heart has stopped and that's why it's so upsetting. What was alive is not living any longer.
- Your baby was probably messed up so this is a blessing. No, no it isn't. Any baby is a gift, regardless of the so-called imperfections.
- You're being stupid/silly/crazy/irrational/fill-in-the-blank. And you're being cold and heartless, so what's your point and how does this help the person who is grieving?
- Get over it, this happens to a lot of women and you don't see them carrying on about it for weeks on end. Yes, this does happen to a lot of women, but this happened to me and I'm still hurting over it. Perhaps insensitive comments such as these are why most women don't feel that they can talk about it? And I can't say that I blame them for suffering in silence because these "helpful" comments are anything but helpful.
DO SAY:
There really isn't anything to say, is there? A simple, "I'm sorry," would suffice if you feel the need to say anything.
If you've experienced a miscarriage, it may be helpful to share your story with the person who has recently lost their baby. I was shocked at how many women I know who have experienced a similar situation, but I was comforted by their words and encouragement. Some went on to have perfectly healthy pregnancies and others did not. Some lost their babies before they even knew they were pregnant, and others ended in a stillbirth. No matter how far along they were, all experienced hurt and grief when they lost their baby.
Why do I mention these things? Because it is perfectly normal and natural to grieve over a lost baby! I'll repeat it in case that didn't come across loud and clear: It is perfectly normal and natural to grieve over a lost baby! I think it would be suspect if I didn't care. However, I also acknowledge that other people grieve differently so I'm not saying there is anything wrong if one doesn't grieve for a miscarried baby. There's no right or wrong when it comes to grief. It just is what it is and we all feel loss and experience grief differently.
Perhaps one day my story, as documented in this blog, will serve as comfort and encouragement to another woman who is suffering. And, if that's the case, then I suppose this experience is worth the present pain.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Friendly Advice
I'm aware that I've been down lately and a few friends have privately contacted me about my attitude. They were motivated by love and they gave me words of care and encouragement. I have been mulling over these exchanges and I won't share everything, but they were correct on all points.
Sinking deeper into despair will not improve my outlook, but faithfully trusting God will. I needed the reminder that He is in control and every single thing that I've done in life is what led me to where I am today. Where am I today? I am a beloved wife to my husband and an adored mother to our son.
Yes, I'm still sad about losing this baby. Who wouldn't be ache over the unexpected loss of a much-wanted baby? But I can't allow myself to be governed by the fear of another miscarriage and I can't beat myself up over choices that can't be undone.
Yesterday is gone and tomorrow is a fresh new day. I can choose how I respond to life's curve balls and I will not be held hostage by fear or guilt. I will live tomorrow to the fullest.
Sinking deeper into despair will not improve my outlook, but faithfully trusting God will. I needed the reminder that He is in control and every single thing that I've done in life is what led me to where I am today. Where am I today? I am a beloved wife to my husband and an adored mother to our son.
Yes, I'm still sad about losing this baby. Who wouldn't be ache over the unexpected loss of a much-wanted baby? But I can't allow myself to be governed by the fear of another miscarriage and I can't beat myself up over choices that can't be undone.
Yesterday is gone and tomorrow is a fresh new day. I can choose how I respond to life's curve balls and I will not be held hostage by fear or guilt. I will live tomorrow to the fullest.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Losing Hope in a Miracle
I began to mentally outline a blog post this afternoon, but I started feeling lousy a few hours ago and that post isn't going to happen tonight.
I began to feel ill early this evening and experienced slight bleeding, staining is probably a better term, and I was sure that my body was going to release my poor baby tonight. I was overcome with weakness afterward and I had to lie down for a rest as my legs were trembling just from the effort to stand up. It felt like the muscle exhaustion that accompanies the flu, but I think it was nerves because I'm absolutely terrified to see the remains of my baby. But the bleeding unexpectedly stopped as quickly as it showed up.
I currently have a nagging ache in my lower back and my stomach is cramping up periodically. I'm feeling a constant pressure from the base of my ribs to the bottom of my pelvis. It almost feels like I'm wearing a too-tight girdle. I ate too much at lunch so it could just be gas. Or maybe the meals I consumed today just aren't digesting very effectively. Or it could be a symptom that this miscarriage is going to be complete soon.
I began to lose pregnancy symptoms a couple of days ago. It's wonderful and horrible that I no longer suffer crippling nausea every morning and painfully tender breasts are no longer making it difficult to give or accept hugs. I suppose the lack of any obvious outward symptoms will force me to come to grips with the fact that the ultrasounds weren't wrong and that, though my baby is still inside of me, this pregnancy has ended.
I can't help but continue to pray for this baby, for this pregnancy to somehow continue and yield a perfectly healthy baby in 29 more weeks. My faith has been praised, but I'm losing hope in a miracle. I guess my faith isn't so great after all.
It's been more than a week since my baby died and I have to believe that my body will let go of my baby one day soon. How I dread that day.
I began to feel ill early this evening and experienced slight bleeding, staining is probably a better term, and I was sure that my body was going to release my poor baby tonight. I was overcome with weakness afterward and I had to lie down for a rest as my legs were trembling just from the effort to stand up. It felt like the muscle exhaustion that accompanies the flu, but I think it was nerves because I'm absolutely terrified to see the remains of my baby. But the bleeding unexpectedly stopped as quickly as it showed up.
I currently have a nagging ache in my lower back and my stomach is cramping up periodically. I'm feeling a constant pressure from the base of my ribs to the bottom of my pelvis. It almost feels like I'm wearing a too-tight girdle. I ate too much at lunch so it could just be gas. Or maybe the meals I consumed today just aren't digesting very effectively. Or it could be a symptom that this miscarriage is going to be complete soon.
I began to lose pregnancy symptoms a couple of days ago. It's wonderful and horrible that I no longer suffer crippling nausea every morning and painfully tender breasts are no longer making it difficult to give or accept hugs. I suppose the lack of any obvious outward symptoms will force me to come to grips with the fact that the ultrasounds weren't wrong and that, though my baby is still inside of me, this pregnancy has ended.
I can't help but continue to pray for this baby, for this pregnancy to somehow continue and yield a perfectly healthy baby in 29 more weeks. My faith has been praised, but I'm losing hope in a miracle. I guess my faith isn't so great after all.
It's been more than a week since my baby died and I have to believe that my body will let go of my baby one day soon. How I dread that day.
Friday, January 14, 2011
The Blessings in Suffering
Today I had a couple of quick exchanges with a few friends about my current situation. I still haven't started to pass my baby and it's making me sadder as the days go by. It's hard to wrap my head around the fact that my baby lost it's heartbeat a week ago and my body still can't let it go.
At risk of sounding like a braggart, I led a remarkably charmed life for several years. I enjoyed more happiness and joy than I could ever deserve. I didn't have much in the way of pain or suffering and, as a result, I had grown quite fat and lazy from a spiritual and emotional standpoint. That's not really a good place to be in my opinion and it's good that I've been tested and refined in this last year.
Regular readers of this blog know that there has been significant heartbreak in my life in the last twelve months. I haven't written about everything that has happened because it would be inappropriate for me to share, but there has been a lot more that I haven't even breathed a word about in this blog. Yes, believe it or not, there are some things that even I think are important to keep hidden, secret, and out of print.
I have wondered more than once if the things that I've been whining about are just normal things that happen all the time to everyone else, but I've had many people agree that it does appear that my family has been under attack with spectacularly difficult challenges in the last twelve-months. What should I make of this realization that we have been hit by this onslaught? Should I feel that God doesn't care about my faithfulness? Should I feel abandoned by God? Should I be mad at God? Should I turn away from God and lean on my own understanding?
I faithfully (get it?!) submit that I should still find a way to give thanks for these painful circumstances. Am I crazy? I don't think so and I don't think that any Christian would. Great growth tends to come after great suffering. Imagine how much growth I'm going to be blessed with when these trials are over! I'm convinced that this great suffering is preparing me for completing great works.
God is in everything. Everything! And, if we let Him, He can use anything for good. Yes, even the death of this much loved and wanted baby can be used for good in God's name! There is already good in this suffering. Rather than turning away from God during these difficult times, I've grown closer to Him. My faith has been strengthened although my emotions have been battered.
I hope that I continue to lean on Him because there's no way I'd be able to handle these challenges on my own. I didn't become a Christian until I was in my mid-20s and I know for a fact that I would be completely broken if I was dealing with all of this while spiritually adrift. I was in a perfect position, spiritually, to experience the events of the last twelve months because I had learned of God's true love. It's not an accident that this testing happened after I accepted Christ in my heart.
I know what I want, but that doesn't mean that it's the right time (if you will) and I don't have the benefit of God's vision so I can't even second guess what's been happening because I don't have all the information to form an educated opinion. I hope that never-ending sentence made sense! I don't doubt that blessings will return to my life (and, really, I am still being marvelously blessed!) and I will rejoice and give Him the thanks when that day comes!
At risk of sounding like a braggart, I led a remarkably charmed life for several years. I enjoyed more happiness and joy than I could ever deserve. I didn't have much in the way of pain or suffering and, as a result, I had grown quite fat and lazy from a spiritual and emotional standpoint. That's not really a good place to be in my opinion and it's good that I've been tested and refined in this last year.
Regular readers of this blog know that there has been significant heartbreak in my life in the last twelve months. I haven't written about everything that has happened because it would be inappropriate for me to share, but there has been a lot more that I haven't even breathed a word about in this blog. Yes, believe it or not, there are some things that even I think are important to keep hidden, secret, and out of print.
I have wondered more than once if the things that I've been whining about are just normal things that happen all the time to everyone else, but I've had many people agree that it does appear that my family has been under attack with spectacularly difficult challenges in the last twelve-months. What should I make of this realization that we have been hit by this onslaught? Should I feel that God doesn't care about my faithfulness? Should I feel abandoned by God? Should I be mad at God? Should I turn away from God and lean on my own understanding?
I faithfully (get it?!) submit that I should still find a way to give thanks for these painful circumstances. Am I crazy? I don't think so and I don't think that any Christian would. Great growth tends to come after great suffering. Imagine how much growth I'm going to be blessed with when these trials are over! I'm convinced that this great suffering is preparing me for completing great works.
God is in everything. Everything! And, if we let Him, He can use anything for good. Yes, even the death of this much loved and wanted baby can be used for good in God's name! There is already good in this suffering. Rather than turning away from God during these difficult times, I've grown closer to Him. My faith has been strengthened although my emotions have been battered.
I hope that I continue to lean on Him because there's no way I'd be able to handle these challenges on my own. I didn't become a Christian until I was in my mid-20s and I know for a fact that I would be completely broken if I was dealing with all of this while spiritually adrift. I was in a perfect position, spiritually, to experience the events of the last twelve months because I had learned of God's true love. It's not an accident that this testing happened after I accepted Christ in my heart.
I know what I want, but that doesn't mean that it's the right time (if you will) and I don't have the benefit of God's vision so I can't even second guess what's been happening because I don't have all the information to form an educated opinion. I hope that never-ending sentence made sense! I don't doubt that blessings will return to my life (and, really, I am still being marvelously blessed!) and I will rejoice and give Him the thanks when that day comes!
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