pixi.bits

the dc gathering & looking forward to '06

Two nights before the DC Infertile's Luncheon, I asked M. if Expedia would let you exchange a ticket, if you decided not to use it. "Sure," he said, "but why?" I told him that my throat was scratchy, and I had a headache. And there was a good chance that I'd be feeling really lousy come Wednesday morning. Plus I was really backed up at work and couldn't afford to take the day off. AND I should be attacking the laundry piles instead of jetting off for lunch AND...

Truth is, I was having a bit of a fit. This has become my modus operandi whenever I'm meeting new people these days. Or leaving the house for that matter. For the day-to-day stuff it's more of an internal freakout, and I manage to pull myself together and do what I have to do. I do, however, find myself retreating more and more from social gatherings. Especially when it involves meeting new people or people whom I haven't seen in a long time.

You see, I've gained fifty pounds in the past two and a half years. I partially blame the fact that I was pregnant for nine out of those 30 months and I ate to console myself after each miscarriage. But now, it's just become a bad habit - not making good choices, not stopping myself when I should. So, my weight gain + my reproductive struggles + another source of frustration that I, following Dooce's advice, don't blog about = a pretty unhappy me. A me who prefers to stay home and face the world through a computer.

However, when my alarm went off at 5:00 AM on Wednesday morning, I jumped up and got ready. And in control top pantyhose, a long black skirt, and a lot more makeup than usual, I went out the door feeling reasonably OK. In the end, I couldn't bring myself to bag out at the last minute, not after saying I would attend. Plus, I truly wanted to meet the bloggers (Lori, Flicka, Thalia, Jenn, Cass, & Manuela) who would be there.

And I am SO glad that I went. The Tabard Inn was absolutely charming. The tour of the Capitol building, spectacular. The company? Incredibly warm, lovely, brilliant, funny, vibrant, insightful (and very stylishly accessorized) - women from interesting and varied backgrounds united in the understanding of what it's like to struggle hard to become a mother. It felt great to spend the day connecting with others who really get that. It was truly good for the soul. For a detailed play-by-play of the day, visit Flicka's site.

When I got home, my husband asked how it went. I told him, "better than I could have hoped." Now how often do you get to say that?

And I'm finding myself rather inspired by my experience at the DC gathering. Knowing what I might have missed had I chosen to stay home, I'm thinking it's high time for me for me to stop hiding and start living life with more gusto. I don't know what that means exactly yet, but I do know that something's got to change. I've had enough of my current scene, really. And hell, I figure this is as good a time as any to make a fresh start.

So no specific resolutions, only to live better and to live more. And thanks, ladies of the luncheon, for providing the spark I so desperately needed. Y'all (wink wink Lori) are amazing!

And special thanks to Flicka for doing all the leg work (and what legs!) for us. And for making those incredible Infertility Survival Kits. And, yes, my candy is already gone! Hey it's not '06 yet!

And also special thanks to Lori & her husband for hooking us up with that fabulous tour of the Capitol building. It was the perfect afternoon event. And thanks again, Lori, and also Manuela for sticking around & having dinner with me since I had time to kill before my flight back. It was great to have some extra time with you both.

Happy New Year everyone. I hope '06 is a good one for us all!

i have a headache

Literally and figuratively. A couple of ibuprofen should take care of the first problem. The second is far more complicated.

I used to like sex. And I still find my husband quite charming and adorable. You know, most of the time.

I guess this is a good time to introduce mi marido, M. His name is the first part of that old call and response game that you play in a swimming pool. I'm not spelling it out, because I don't want his Googlers to find him here. You never know.

Anyway, I used to like sex. And it's not so much that I don't anymore, but I have a really hard time getting in the mood for it. It takes work. And don't mean foreplay, either. Before we even get to that, I have to engage in a process of letting go - all the stress, all the body issues, all the stuff that's swirling around in my head. I can't begin to feel romantic without doing deep breathing and relaxation exercises. Lots of wine doesn't hurt, either. And as far as touching goes, I need to be eased into it. There must be rubbing of the back, neck, arms, stomach, etc. first. I can't get into it without the warm up. Without the warm up, I'm cringing.

Not that my preparation routine is unpleasant. It can be very nice, actually. Especially, because M. is patient and willing to work with me (boy wants to get laid, after all). No, but he is also very understanding of what I've been through and how it's affected my mind and body. And how it's difficult for me to separate all that from the sexual experience. Still, I know it hurts his feelings a little that I no longer get hot 'n bothered just by looking at him.

So here it is Saturday night. M and I are home alone. A little while ago he said to me, "too bad your head hurts," then he offered to bring ibuprofen and massage my scalp. I told him I'd be along in a bit - just need to tie something up on the computer. So here I am, ladies, tying this up, and taking some deep breaths. Wish me luck. Because I do miss that closeness, that unbound energy he & I had before all this business began. And now that we're indefinitely banned from any attempts at baby making, maybe it's time for me to reacquaint myself with the nympho within. Won't be easy, because I am one tense chick, but I'm gonna try.

OK. Off I go.

this is not a baby

I have been pregnant for a total of 233 days. I do not have a baby. I do not have one on the way. But now I look like I do. And it's a constant reminder of what I want so much and don't have.

I've never been a skinny girl (to borrow and modify a line from Ani DiFranco), and I've always been a bit of a yo-yoer. But in the old days, even at my heaviest, I didn't look pregnant. Hips, butt, thighs - those were always problem areas, but my abdomen was almost a source of pride. Now it taunts me. I don't think pregnancy alone changed the SIZE of my body. I contributed to much of that with my post-miscarriage "I don't give a shit" eating. But I do think the pregnancies had something to do with this new SHAPE.

I took this photo by aiming in the general direction of my stomach and snapping the shot. I figured I might have to try a few times to get it lined up correctly - but no, my belly filled in the entire frame on the first try.

In looking in at the abstract elements of the image, I can see a certain beauty in the curving form, the sweeping lines. But when I'm trying to button my work pants, I just look down with sadness and loathing.

Today is Sunday - the day that I normally vow to start afresh with healthy eating and a healthy frame of mind. So far I've made no progress on either of those fronts. I'm hoping that this Sunday could be the start of a turnaround - that maybe writing it here will help me stick with it. Let's hope so.