Permanent Damage?

"Moooooom," the Kindergartner whined from his bed yesterday morning.

"What do you need?" I asked.

"Can you coooome heeeeerrreee?" he answered.

As I shuffled sleepily down the hall towards his room he called out again.

"Guess what the tooth fairy left me last night?!?"

OH.

CRAP.

"What?" I asked, as I began my quiet but hopeful chanting:

pleaselettherebearealtoothfairypleaselettherebearealtoothfairypleaselettherebearealtoothfairypleaselettherebearealtoothfairypleaselettherebearealtoothfairypleasepleaseplease.

"NOTHING!" he cried. He held up the forgotten tooth and showed me the nothingness beneathe his pillow. "I looked everywhere, but there's NOTHING! She FORGOT!".

crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap

Sadly, the tooth fairy has been suffering from Absent Minded Syndrome (AMS) lately.

Oops.

Thank You

Thank you.

I am overwhelmed by the kindness and words of encouragement and sympathy I have received from this amazing blogging network. A network made up of people I have never met.

In real life, anyway.

Some of you I feel I know as if you lived next door.

I can't tell you how healing it was to come home from the hospital last week, open my trusty lap top, and be met with all of your comments.

Sadly, so many of you could relate to my experience.

It helps to know I'm not alone.

That none of us are alone.

That this happens more frequently than anyone tells us. Why doesn't anyone tell us?

I'm still pissed off, though.

Pissed off that I was 12 weeks. Three months. The safe zone.

Pissed off that I spent the last two months immobilized on my couch, getting up only for brief visits to the toilet.

Pissed off that I missed time with my kids. And my husband.

Pissed off that my husband spent the last two months taking on much more than his share.

Pissed off that no one can tell me why my body did what it did.

Pissed off that it took until Sunday before my nausea began to fade.

Pissed off that my body feels drained. And empty. So empty.

Pissed off that my family feels incomplete and I'm not sure how to fix this.

Pissed off that I can't stop replaying the image of the still and silent ultrasound screen. No flickering beat of a heart. No movement.

Pissed off that only four weeks ago there was a strong, beating heart. What happened?

Pissed off that I can't help but point my finger inward when I wonder Why?


But I'm grateful too.

Grateful that I am surrounded by support.

Grateful for the husband who took on much more than his share.

Grateful that I can taste and smell food without sprinting to the bathroom.

Grateful for my first cup of coffee yesterday morning. The smell! The glorious smell of coffee!

Grateful that I can play with my kids again and be present. Truly present.

Grateful that I can take a hot shower without a wave of nausea getting in the way.

Grateful for this blog, on which I will be writing many more posts about the happenings of the past week.

Grateful that the more I write, the less empty I feel.

Loss

Twelve week ultrasound.

No heartbeat.

Twelve fucking weeks.

Grief.

Anger.

Blame.

Guilt.

Grief.

Nausea (why won't it go away?)

Emptiness.

Loss for words.

Going Green (the other kind)

"Spring is here and everything is turning green, including my wife," announced the husband last week.

He's here all week, folks.

Thank you to everyone for all of the kind, sympathetic words on my last post.

My favorite comment came from Mary Alice, who had this insightful observation:

"...when you talk about puking, people automatically think you might be pregnant - when I talk about puking people automatically ask if I have a hangover.......what's does that say about us? What? because you have a little one, you must want more little ones...and because I have teenagers I must be drunk?"

Brilliant.

And true.

So. So. True.

It seems that our newest little tax deduction should be arriving in November.

Surprised?

So was I.

Apparently, Mr. Schwenker, my 9th grade health teacher, was right. It does only take one time.

I knew I should have paid more attention during that Sex Ed chapter.

So my blog writing and blog reading will be scattered (just like my brain) for a while. My body tends to react to pregnancy with all day vomiting and dizziness for the first four months.

There's nothing like throwing up your bowl of Cinnamon Harvest first thing in the morning.

The worst part? The worst part of all is that my dear, dear computer screen makes me nauseous.

Oh, the tragedy!


Oh, and if anyone wants to volunteer to entertain my kids, and save their brains from turning to mush from being glued to the babysitter tv, well, come on over.

Don't bother ringing the doorbell, though. No one will open the door for you.

My kids are busy memorizing scenes from Star Wars (oddly, they still have not inquired as to why mom is immobile. I guess I'm a nonessential employee over here).

And me? My head is either attached to my pillow or in the toilet.

Where My Head Has Been

Kindergartner: Mooooom, are you, like, throwing up?

Me: Yeah (gag) I am (gag). I'm (hurl) ok...

Kindergartner: You'll still be able to turn the computer on for me, right?


The following day, as I, once again, found my head nearly submerged in my new friend, avocado green toilet, or as I like to call him, Greeny, I noticed I had an audience.

Three Year Old: Maaammmmmaaaa, are you done yet?

Me: Almost (hurl), buddy, (gag) I'll be right (gag) there (hurl).

Three Year Old: Can you be all done now because my elbow hurts.


Um, hello? Children of mine, ever hear of a little thing called E-M-P-A-T-H-Y?

Going Green

It wasn't until I had kids that I began to look at the world around us. I mean really look.

What is in the food they're eating?

What is in the cleaners I'm using around them?

What is in the air they breathe? Or the water they drink?

Gradually, I have been making some changes in what comes into the house. I can't control every toxin that they are exposed to, but I can make small steps in my home that could have a pretty big impact on our overall health.

Once I started the process I was pretty motivated to keep going. I felt like I was not only making a positive impact on my kids' health, but also on the environment.

[Yay, me]

So when Mother Talk announced this month's book tour, I waved my virtual hand in the air at the chance to read Healthy Child Healthy World by Christopher Gavigan.

Pick me! Pick me!

And they did.

I read the book cover to cover in about two days.

Scary? Yes.

Motivating? Definitely.

It can be overwhelming to learn of all the different toxins we come into contact with everyday. Very. Overwhelming.

The book does a pretty good job of emphasizing how to make small changes. One step at a time. And to really just be more aware of our surroundings. It touches on everything from indoor air pollutants to organic crib mattresses to safer carpet choices.

I think it would be unrealistic to expect to follow every suggestion the author makes. There are, for most of us, cost issues. Buying organic everything is expensive. I wish it didn't cost more to live healthy, but it does.

So Brian and I pick and choose what we focus on, and each year we become a little bit greener than we were the year before.

Brian is more environmentally conscious than I am. But I'm coming around.

He's convinced me that we don't need chemical lawn treatments because, you know, the kids roll around in the yard all summer. Hmmm. Yeah, never thought about that. I just wanted a nice yard like the neighbors.

And so I've learned to appreciate the beauty of crab grass.

Last year we ditched all of our Teflon cookware for stainless steal and cast iron.

This year I've transitioned my cleaning and laundry supplies to non-toxic products. Ever wonder why the big brands don't disclose their ingredients? I did. And the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I was using a product with unknown, but dangerous ingredients.

Despite already being pretty aware of the dangers in the environment, I found this book eye opening.

Here's a quote that did it for me: "The American Cancer Society estimates that 75% of cancer is due to environmental factors...".

Yowza.

That scares me.

I'm going to keep chipping away at making our environment, the one they spend most of their time in, as green and healthy as possible.

And I'm going to keep reminding myself not to get overwhelmed.

Even small changes make a difference.



But you know what? There are times when we need the chemicals. When, despite everything I have just written, I want to shout "ALL HAIL THE TOXIC CHEMICALS". Like when on April 1st (NOT REALLY EVEN FULL FLEDGED SPRING YET) I have already killed 4 f'ing ants in the boys bedroom. Four. Where the hell are they even coming from?

If anyone knows of a safe, non toxic method to rid a house of carpenter ants (I think that's what they are) then, please, do tell.

Because so far nothing has worked except a call to The Bug Man.

Thankyouverymuch.

Solo Parenting: Day 5

Since I'm flying solo this week I've taken to putting the kids to bed as early as I possibly can.

"Look guys! It's dark out! It's very, very late! No, the clock doesn't say seven-zero-zero. The rest of the lines are just a little faint. It says eight-zero-zero".

It usually works. At least with the 3 year old, who is exhausted by the end of the day since he has decided to permanently picket in the nap strike lines.

I had them both tucked in, sips of water given, and lights out last night by 7:30 (not bad, eh?).

I collapsed onto my bed contemplating how I would spend my next few free hours. Dishes? Laundry? Law and Order repeats? Attempt to chip away at the 500+ unread Google Reader posts (how, how?, does everyone else keep up with their reader?)?

Just as I was nearing a decision, which involved closed eyes and the beginnings of crazy end of the day dreams, I heard the stealthy shuffling of something, or someone, inching towards me.

It was the Kindergartner.

He came into my room carrying his special pillow, his stuffed dog, Jackie, and Jackie's teeny tiny pillow and blanket.

He didn't say a word.

He went about his work in silence.

He tucked Jackie into Brian's side of the bed. He placed his special pillow on my side of the bed. He took his time as he carefully arranged his offerings.

He looked up at me with just a hint of a smile.

"I don't want you to be lonely tonight. I don't want you to be lonely without Daddy".

And in a flash he was gone. His good deed done, he tip toed back into his room and tucked himself into bed.

Thanks, buddy.