This is Just to Say

Plums were on sale the last time I went to Chuck's, both red and black, and so I loaded up on the red ones, and that was on Wednesday and now it's Friday night and I've just eaten the last one (my fourth of the day) and all I can think is that I need to go get more plums like literally right now.



(Seriously you guys, it's been like eating succulent rubies imported directly from Bism.)



(Also, if my husband had eaten the last one before me I'd probably have murdered him, no matter how excellent a poem he left on the counter to replace it.)

Gaining Momentum

It's not just writing that I've been slacking on, lately.  I've also been slacking on eating right, riding my bike, and climbing, which has had certain, shall we say squishifying results on my body (not to mention unhappy results in my brain chemistry).  But I'm getting back in line with all those things- Nathan and I are teaming up with a friend of mine to do a (relative) Whole30 this month.  I say "relative" because we're electing to keep dairy in, and Nathan said the only way he'd do it was if he was allowed beers on Saturday, because it's football season.  To which I replied Deal, because moderation in all things, right?  Right.

So that's eating right.  Riding my bike took a hit when I jacked up my ankle back in June, but it's been feeling much better, lately, so back on the bike with me.  It's pretty much the same story with climbing, only with the added disincentive that was my climbing bros having had weird schedules all summer, so pretty much any time I was at the gym I was alone, and that just sucks and leads to limiting myself to like three routes before I give up in a bored and sulky pout.

Today, however, KB and I managed to hook up and I had the best day of climbing that I've had in a long-ass time- basically since my last outdoor trip, to French's Dome at the end of July.  (yeah, I know- I should have blogged about that at the time.  Sorry...)  And that little trip resulted in an elephant-looking ankle, which today did not, so all in all, today wins.  Yay winning!

Of course, now my hands are too shredded to practice the guitar, which I have also been slacking on, but still... one step at a time...

Tooth for a Tooth

So I've basically spent the past two months wandering around in an uninspired wasteland, and while I feel like that was maybe somewhat justified, that time has passed and it's time to get my shit together and be a writer again.  Which includes blogging, because seriously- how lame is it that I only had one entry for the month of August?  Pretty lame, I'm just saying.

Today is Wednesday, which means Errands Day, and I conducted myself accordingly.  First things first, I took Kink back to the vet, because two weeks ago he had a tooth extracted and apparently a fortnight is the amount of time one waits before following up on these sorts of things (Houston we are cleared for crunchy food- praise Sekhmet!)  The girl behind the desk mentioned that it had been a weird morning- "We had so many appointments scheduled, but two were no-shows, and one called to cancel- and then you were pretty early, which actually worked out really well!"

"Yeah, I tend to be early," I said.  "I have to factor in Jenny O Gets Lost Time."

Puzzled head cock from the tech.

"See, I'm really, really bad about getting lost, even going to places I've been a billion times," I explained**, "So I always have to plan in extra time- which generally ensures that I will not get lost, but if I don't factor it in, then I will."

Of course, "generally ensures" does not equate to "always ensures", and thus a few hours later I found myself sitting in a parking lot, calling my new dentist's office.

"Yeah, hi- where are you guys, exactly?"

As it turned out I'd actually already been in the correct parking lot a few minutes prior, but somehow missed the entire building (don't ask) and so moved on to the next (incorrect) parking lot in an attempt to track it down.  It also turned out to be less of a hassle to walk back to the correct location than to attempt to drive back to it, so that's what I did.  And thanks to Jenny O Gets Lost Time, I still managed to arrive on schedule.

Word of advice?  Don't let four years go by between seeing a dentist.  That being said, expect more Thrilling Dental Adventures next Wednesday, when I return to get my two cavities filled (and cracked filling replaced).  ::sigh::





**Our first Christmas as a couple, Nathan bought me a Garmin.  Because he'd been on the phone with me one too many times when I said, "Huh.  I wonder where I am..."

Words and Gods

I am a man, and men are animals who tell stories.  This is a gift from God, who spoke our species into being, but left the end of our story untold.

                                -Sacrament, Clive Barker

I disagree; I feel certain all animals must tell stories- because we know animals dream, and we know animals communicate, and what are stories but communicated dreams?  It's just that ours is the species who writes them down.  Perhaps, then, the Gods' magic resides not so much in the Words themselves, but in the letters used to Shape them...

So You Married a Feminist

It's no secret that I'm a feminist.  I'm not quiet about it, and I never have been.  Momma done raised me right, and all that.  So, of course, Nathan was fully aware that he was marrying a feminist- and he may even have had an inkling of what that meant.

Me, on the other hand?  Well, I had my suspicions (in fact they were more than suspicions, or I wouldn't have married him) but it wasn't until the other day that I had the chance to make my pronouncement...

"I watched Mulan while you were gone," he says absently as we flip through Netflix options.

"Yeah?"  I perk up.  I love that movie.  Generally speaking, I will love any story that involves a protagonist who gender-bends to get what they want.  Especially if what they want is to be a warrior.

"Yeah.  I don't get why she wasn't more angry."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just- she saves the entire friggin' army and China all by herself, but when that guy she likes finds out she's not a man suddenly she's not trustworthy anymore?  And at the end of the movie she just forgives him like it's no big deal!"  His voice is full of disgust, and I cannot help but laugh.

"So you're saying... she should be treated the same regardless of her gender?"

He makes a noncommittal grunt, and I smile sweetly.  "You are so a feminist," I say, and kiss him on the forehead.

On Being Okay

I am a writer.  It's what I do.  I write.  It's how I process things.  So when I found out I was pregnant, I wrote about it.  And the day after my miscarriage, I wrote about that.  And I'm still writing, about both those things.  Because I'm still dealing with them, and I expect that I will be for a long time to come.  And while it's true that there's no actual need for me to post what I write for the world to see, I've come to the conclusion that if there's any chance that what I've written might help someone else process things, well... why not?

It took me a bit to come to this conclusion.  If you'd asked me, a year ago, if I'd ever post in a public forum about having had a miscarriage, my answer would have been the cliched, "Not no but hell no."  Grief has always been a fairly private thing to me.  I don't want it on display; I don't want people feeling sorry for me; I want to deal with my shit and move on.

But.

Then the hypothetical became reality.  And I suddenly realized that by not talking about it, I was be making it more dark and terrible than it actually was.  That's not to say it wasn't terrible- it was.  It is.  It will be.  But by being able to talk to people about it, it helps me feel like it's going to be okay.  After all, I don't hide the fact that my father died- why should I hide the fact that our baby died?  To hide that it existed in the first place, to deny the joy that we felt over the burgeoning possibilities hidden in my womb- that, to me, seems more unbearable by far than to admit to people that now I'm sad.

I was still on the fence about it until a chance encounter this afternoon.  I ran into a friend of mine, and when he asked me about climbing, I hesitated, took a deep breath- and admitted that I'd just had a miscarriage.  And do you know what happened?  He didn't feel sorry for me- he gave me an understanding look, and then told me about when he and his wife went through miscarriage.  And then we made jokes.  And it was okay.  I was okay.

Sad, but okay.  So I got home, and I decided to post all these little writings I had laying around, so that the world can see how happy I was- and how sad I am.  And how okay I'll be.

So Sorry

The funny thing about miscarriage is my unrelenting desire to apologize to everyone.

“I’m sorry,” is constantly on the tip of my tongue, just waiting to preface every interaction I have.  It’s not logical- I know it’s not logical, but it’s there.

I’m sorry I bled on that.

I’m sorry to bother you.

I’m sorry I lost our baby.

I’m sorry you’re hurting.

I’m sorry I can’t make it better.

I’m sorry I woke you.

I’m sorry I’m telling you such awful news.

I’m sorry I won’t be in to work for the next few days.

I’m sorry I can’t go climbing for a while.

I’m sorry I’m hiding.

I’m sorry I made you sad.

I’m sorry I keep crying.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I'm sorry.

I know that some of you might read those phrases in a sarcastic tone, but the truth is I really mean it- I am sorry, for all of it.  That it’s happened and is happening and will go on happening.  I know, logically, that none of it is my fault or anything for me to feel sorry about.

Emotions don’t care about logic.

My biggest regret is that we only told one couple about the pregnancy.  There are only two people in the world, aside from us, who got to know the unadulterated joy of my being pregnant.  Everyone else only knows that I was pregnant, but now I’m not.  No joy in the association, only sorrow.  And all because I wanted to wait until after my first ultrasound, which was going to be on Wednesday, to tell our families.

The spotting started late Friday night- pale pink and nothing to worry about.  That’s what I kept telling myself, anyway, as I lay in bed thinking about what I’d forbidden myself to think about until that point- that miscarriage is quite common in the first twelve weeks.  And I was only about seven weeks along.

The next morning I confessed to Nathan about the spotting, and that I was scared.  But it still wasn’t much, so I went hiking with some friends.  They were the couple that I chose to tell, and I’ll be honest- it was motivated by my desire to have an untainted moment of happiness, just in case something went wrong.  Because by that time, tiny little cramps had started.

On the drive home I called the on-call doctor.  She told me to take a warm bath and some Tylenol, and to come in for an ultrasound on Monday, just in case.  She also said that if the bleeding or pain got worse, to go ahead and go to the ER.

At about 2330, Nathan and I went to the ER.  We were there for six hours before the doctor finally confirmed what we already knew.  Three of those hours were us sitting alone in a small room after the ultrasound, not being told anything.  They’d hooked me up to an IV, and it hurt, and all I wanted was to take the damn thing out and go home, because I am not stupid and I knew what they were carefully avoiding telling us.

The only heartbeat I’d heard on the monitor had been my own.