The Power Of Nature

So I've been doing the holistic approach hard core on Liam for four days now. He gets up in the morning and has his probiotic smoothie (apples, spinach, kale, grapes, bunch of great stuff) and breakfast then I oil him down with coconut oil! He gets the coconut oil- oiling three times a day and every other day he gets a bath in this soap.  His rash is almost gone.

Let me say that again. ALMOST GONE. Go me. Well, and the person who suggested this course of action (you rock btw!!)

What else is going on? Not much. We're going to our first ever nurse in tomorrow, that apparently I'm organizing, but I've had like no support with it. So. . .yeah.

I have no idea what to do at these things!

Such is life.

Itchy

So Liam has had a rash for two months now. Our Pediatrician can't diagnose it, every pediatrician in the practice can't diagnose it. Our Pediatrician wrote us a script for an antibiotic just because it was on going and I guess she was throwing something at it to see if it helped. She completely understood that we didn't want to do it and wrote a paper script and said 'I'd LIKE you to do this. . .but I know you don't want to. It's up to you' and sent us to a dermatologist.  Lou and I agreed that after the Derm appointment we'd reevaluate the script.

Monday we had the appointment to go to Derm. I was apprehensive. They sent out a packet for us to fill out. Standard forms, then there were question-ares.

"Are you interested in botox?"
"Are you embarrassed about your wrinkles?"
"Would you like to learn about electrolysis and chemical peals?"

I was like. . .are you fucking kidding me?!

I let it go, against better judgement, and we went to the appointment. The Doctor was horrible. He was clearly not good with children. He didn't even know HOW to talk to my son. It infuriated me. He wanted to do a biopsy on him, right then and there, and I asked why. "well I think it's X"

"Is that bad?"
"Well, no. . ."
"Is it treatable?"
"It normally clears up on it's own. . ."
"So, why do you want to put my son in pain?"

He then got loud with me, raised his voice. He yelled at my son THREE times. . .I could go on. I'm not giving this man more of my time, but he was a HORRIBLE doctor. HORRIBLE.

We then went across the hall to our Pediatrician. I get one of the nurses and I fill her in. She agreed with us that they, across the hall, are horrible with kids and we probably shouldn't of gone there. She gave us a number to a pediatric dermatologist and I've made an appointment with them.

We, my husband and I, tried to tell the Horrible Doctor that we were trying to treat Liam's rash holistically with probiotics and tea tree oil and coconut oil. He looked at me like I was insane and said "I'm a scientist. I deal in fact, not voodoo. You have to prove it to me that it works."

. . . .

*gets out voodoo doll*

I Hate These Nights. . . .

I really do.

We still nurse to sleep and Liam is off schedule. It took me two hours to nurse him down. Normally it takes MAX 20 minutes.

This was our 'dance.'

Lay toddler down
Toddler turns away to get up
Lay toddler down, offer breast.
Toddler doesn't see breast, turns away to get up
Lay toddler down offer breast.
toddler nurses.
Toddler pulls off breast and pulls down shirt on other side.
Toddler switches sides and nurses.
Toddler pulls off and goes back to first breast.
Toddler then begins tweaking opposite nipple
Slip nipple back into shirt while toddler is still nursing
Toddler pulls open shirt and wants that nipple.
nurse.

Lather, rinse, repeat for TWO FUCKING HOURS.

And I'm sick.

Live And Let Live

So yesterday we took Liam in to be checked out. He's been feeling poorly for a few days, mild fever, etc. Friday night (into Saturday) was a nightmare. He was up every two hours screaming his head off, probably because of the congestion. He bit me four times while trying to nurse. It wasn't a vicious bite, just enough to upset me. I can only gather that he was nursing and couldn't breathe threw his nose so he held the nipple with his teeth and inhaled and . . .whala.

It was so bad that Lou called then on call Doctor. On call said it was probably just eczema and he'll be fine. I laughed when Lou told me that. I knew it was viral, and you can't do anything for viral. Lou still made an appointment and we went in.

We got there about 10 minutes early, there was one family in front of us. Being that sick visits only happen on Saturdays we kept Liam out of the waiting room. The family in front of us checked in and then we did. Then three other families came in.

We waited. And waited. And waited.

After all the OTHER families were brought back, I asked them if the sickest kids were called first. She got a little defensive and said 'no, in order you came, you're next.' I pointed out to her that we were the second family to arrive and the manner I was checked in and she looked upset. They SHOULD of taken you back already! Well, they didn't. So we waited more.

I started reading the message boards. They said how 'safe' vaccines were, helmets for bike riding, and then I read their 'stance' on car seats. The notice was so riddled with typos that I uploaded it to facebook for people to see.

Sadly, parents look to them for advise in this manner. If it wasn't for the Doctor we love, we would probably leave here too.

Finally we were called back just as I was about to nurse Liam. The lady at the desk asked if we wanted a 'private' area to do that. I laughed and said no. There was a family with an infant coming out and the mother had a big armful of formula samples. The infant was screaming. Daddy was swinging it around trying to calm the babe down in the bucket seat. The mom glared at me as I happily asked Liam to nurse.

We walked back to a room and the FEELING of the place was disturbing to me. Normally I feel fine going to this practice but the air felt . . .heavy.

I pushed off the feeling and we waited in the room.

And waited. And waited. And waited.

Liam played with the lights. With the table, under the table, with the chairs, with books, and then he had it. So then we walked the halls. They didn't seem very busy. There were more people there (working or socializing) then patients. There were kids in a room watching TV and playing video games, I gathered they were the nurses kids? I'm not sure. There was also a woman there in plain clothes carrying around her baby. The baby was drinking cows milk from a package. She looked MAYBE a year old and had her ears pierced.

There was one other family in the room and I could hear the little boy screaming. I felt like I was in some. . .disturbing hospital video.

Finally the Doctor came in, after over an hour of us waiting. And she went right to it. Didn't talk to Liam, didn't introduce herself to Liam she just said 'Mom, hold him while I check him out.'

It happened so fast.

I tried to ask her to slow down, to show him what she was doing, and she just kept doing it. I thought maybe because he was on my lap, so I asked if we could do it on the table. Normally our doctor shows him the stethescope and talks to him, this doctor didn't even ADDRESS my son. I was furious. He was so distressed. Then she wanted me to restrain him so she could get a throat culture. She didn't let him calm down she just kept on with her . . ..poor treatment of him. I didn't know if I should yell at her or just do it so it would just be over with.

After the throat culture, she left. And I kept trying to soothe Liam but he wanted Daddy. Daddy didn't hold him down. Daddy didn't let this woman scare him.

I felt like shit. I still do. I gave in and let some dumb fucktard touch my child.

I know I need to learn from it. But I need to forgive myself first.

We're trying to decide how to complain to the office about her treatment.

Bumpy

So Liam has had a rash since Thursday.  It's really quite fine and raised, but it's everywhere. I wasn't really overly concerned until last night. More symptoms presented (or became more frequent) like a cough and runny nose and he was MISERABLE last night. We slept some sitting upright in the chair, he slept on Daddy, propped up in two boppys, it was insane. And it wasn't the whiney cry, he was shreaking for a bit there.

I buckled and gave him ibupropen, we have dye free, and he seemed slightly better after it, but he was still just unable to get comfortable and settle down. It sucked.

So, Lou called the on call about 6am and talked with the on call doctor. They suggested it was probably excema. Yes, you read that right. Lou told me that and I was beyond pissed off. I laughed a little as well. I got mad because the physician tried to just brush him off. Sitting back, I understand it to an extent. They probably get calls all day from parents wanting their children put on THIS medication or THAT medication. And we really try to avoid medications. The only reason we're taking him in is to make sure things are okay. He's okay and the rash isn't anything to be concerned about.

Logically, he's fine. He is wetting and pooing fine. He's not dehydrated.

Illogically, we just past a year out from CHOP. Liam had a rash just before being admitted to CHOP and it could be I'm being overly protective of him because of that. I know the two instances aren't related, but yeah. That's how I roll. Deal.

So we're off to the doctors today at 1:20. Of course because it's not our regular doctor I'm putting on armor and 'mama bear' brain. I watch unfamiliar doctors like a hawk with my son.

I know Lou wants us to go in because last night sucked so bad, but honestly. . ..those nights sometimes just happen.

Whiplash

So, for the last three weeks I've been experiencing 'phantom smells.' Many people attributed that to pregnancy symptoms, but I've never experienced something like this before.

the best way to describe it is: In absence of real smell I smell smoke.

So I went to our GP today to be checked out and get a referral. I know I blew my physicians head, the PA who talked to me first told him I wanted three referals. I said, that I was going to end up with either a referral to an ENT (Ear Nose and throat) or Neurology and I was asking for a referral to a geneticist.

They laughed at me at first when I asked for the referral to the geneticist, but when I explained everything it made sense to them.

He asked me why I wasn't asking my OB for this referral and I said because I don't have an OB at the moment. When he asked why, I said because I can't find one that I will ethically respect. "Explain." Then I blew his head about circumcision. He said some crap about it being the parents choice. And I fired back with 'it's the parents choice to preform cosmetic surgery?'

He didn't understand.

I don't care.

Then we went on and did a Neruo evaluation and ENT evaluation and talked about the best and worst case possibilities.

Best case, it's just a bad sinus infection (with no other symptoms) worst case it's a tumor. He didn't think it was a aneurysm because I wasn't really having any other symptoms. Fucking lovely thought that is.

So I left laughing about how hard I blew up my physicians mind, he called me forceful (Lou disagreed, Lou said you're informed and you challenge them, it's threatening to them to not be blindly followed. I love that man.)

So on the way home my mind logically went to the scary place. I'm a woman, I own it.

And I thought about what if it was a tumor. Benign? Malignant? Would I consent to chemo? Radiation? Surgery?

And I was.. ...calm.

I was scary calm. Then I started talking to Lou. I asked him if we could have the 'scary' talk. And he said yeah. So we did. I told him, I'm not afraid to die. I'm afraid to leave them. And I started to cry. I started worrying about if I did have to do chemo, would Liam take to that? Would I have to forceably wean? Would it be worth it? Would I get sicker for just a few months? This is all hypothetical because, lets face it, I like to have control.

And we talked. and he said 'you'd want to just go to your happy place and enjoy the rest of your life.'

And he's right. I wouldn't want to be sick or poisoned or.. .. all that crap.

And then I laughed and told him that if I did die he had permission to change my facebook status to 'is dead.'

He laughed and said 'Oh, hell no. I'm having fun with that."

"is here! Hell is great!"

"I know I've said things about hell, but it's not that bad! It's a DRY heat!"

"DUDE!! They have strippers down here"

And we laughed. Hard.

I know many might take offence to this. But honestly, if I can't laugh about shit, I'll go nuts.

Trust

It's taken a long time for me to get here.

On some level I have always trusted my body, but recently I found solace? Is that the right word?

I have come to completely trust my body in that it knows what it's doing.

A very close friend of mine is a doula and while she and I have major fundamental differences in our opinions of things, we can respect those differences and we can learn from one another.

I think she very much pushed me to where I am. It wasn't her intention, I'm sure of that, but she did push me here.

She recently helped a mother give birth to a child with anecephily. 

Those of you who don't know, it's a neural tube defect that has a high mortality rate. Only 75% of babies that live to term live threw birth, and of those 75%, I believe the number is 50% live up to one day. Normally they pass on by the tenth day of life.

I can't imagine having a relationship with a child. Bonding with that child only to know that at some point that child will leave. Will die.

This brings me back to trusting birth.

I'm in the process of loosing my eleventh child. As horrific as this is, I trust my body knows what it's doing. I trust my body, I know that something isn't right on a cellular level. I TRUST my body to miscarriage if something isn't right.

Do I want more children? Yes, fuck. Yes. Have I been tested? Yes. Have I played the game? Yes. But I'm trusting my body here. I trust my body because I know it works. I know I have enough progesterone for a healthy pregnancy. I know I produce enough of it.

I know I can carry to term. I KNOW these things. I KNOW my body works. It is at this point EGG or SPERM quality.

There is something wrong with my eggs or my husbands sperm. We need genetic testing to find out more, but I KNOW there is an issue. I TRUST my body to terminate a pregnancy that isn't right! Things didn't line up correctly. My egg wasn't mature enough. What EVER the reason, it didn't work.

This is how I have found solace.

This is how I have come to trust my body. Is this the case for everyone? No. There are women out there with PCOS who have a luteal phase defect and they NEED progesterone. I have a friend who is currently pregnant because she FOUGHT for her baby to stay with her.

No amount of progesterone is going to make my eggs or my husbands sperm better (again I don't know which.) All it would do is sustain the pregnancy. The zygote would get as far as it could get, then it would stop evolving. Organizing. Becoming. And I would have false sense of . . .hope. Progesterone doesn't make one pregnant or help a developing babe. It keeps you from bleeding.

So I trust my body. I trust that it knows that something isn't working right. I have the blood results to show that it produces enough progesterone. This is a deeper issue and I trust my body.

I'm sure in a week or so, I'll be upset. I'll be angry. I'll be hurt that shitty people can get pregnant and keep that pregnancy . . .they hurt their babies. . .they hate their children for ruining their lives. . . .and I'm struggling.

But then I will remember that my body knows what it's doing.

Fathers Day!

This year I have lots of fun things planned for Fathers day.

A year ago today we woke up not in our own bed, we were in CHOP. Children's Hospital Of Philadelphia. Our son was almost 5 months old and weighed 8lbs and 6oz. We had a horrible stay at CHOP. I watched nurses and Doctors like a hawk afraid that they would forcibly retract my son or give him an immunization.

It was a hard time in our lives, I spent most of the day in tears bawling that we were in CHOP and not home celebrating Lou's first fathers day when we worked SO hard and tried SO hard to get here.

Lou, being the awesome man he is, took it all in stride. We made the best of it and I couldn't love him more for it.

This year is different. Lou's currently at the Philadelphia Comic Convention. I SO wish I was there with him, but it would of cost money so even though we have two three day passes, I gave my pass to Lou's friend (who is also a dad) and they are having a blast down there. Mom for the win I suppose.

So when Lou does come home, we're making stepping stones as a family. Mixing clay and doing hand prints, painting them, all kinds of good stuff :)

Also for the last two weeks Liam and I have been finger painting, so Daddy now gets to choose THREE masterpieces and we're framing them for his office at work!

We might go to the park too!

But the coolest? We're making daddy's favorite for dinner! Home made (gluten free) PIzzas! Yum Yum!!

Suck it last years Fathers day. You're about to be stomped.

Crikey.

So life after the deletion has been interesting. I was contacted by the TODAY show, yes the TODAY show, to come on and be interviewed about the whole patriarchal facebookiness. 

It fell threw, I don't know if they will contact me again, but hey. Talking with the Today show and knowing they were talking to a producer about me. . .that's enough to have me quaking in my boots. 

After that excitement I have really been enjoying our quiet life routine. We are a single car family (for the time being) and it works for us for the time being. Hopefully we'll have a car soon so we can get out and do things, but we've been enjoying all day naked time (him not me!) and panting and such. It's been a great summer so far. 

Now the thing that has been weighing heavily on me. 

I'm pregnant again. 

Stop, don't react. 

Thank you. 

I'm not excited. I can't be. I can't possibly be. I know many people would read that and be shocked. They wouldn't understand. 

This is my ELEVENTH pregnancy. I have one surviving child. Go on and let that sink in. Yes, I am the Michelle Duggar of miscarriage. So it's very hard for me to relax and enjoy or even bond with this pregnancy. I normally never make it past six weeks, I'm almost five weeks pregnant, I tripped a pregnancy test last night, and we used FAM to get pregnant. I can't encourage enough the awesomeness of FAM. And what's nice is there are APS for that. It's so nice. 

To learn more about FAM: http://www.tcoyf.com/

So, I'm kinda keeping this on the down low. Yeah, Facebook knows so how is that 'down low' . .. well, I'm not talking about it. I'm not getting excited for HBAC or shopping around for midwives, I've done that. I know where they are. And if they have openings when we're further on, I'll think about letting my defenses down. 

Hubs and I talked about this today when we were on our way to the market. It's so hard letting yourself believe. It's so hard to say 'yeah, I'm pregnant.' when I may not be in a week. It's so hard to enjoy every second when . . .I could have it ripped away from us in a heartbeat. 

And those of you who don't know, I have been tested for everything under the sun and we are more then likely going to have genetic testing done next. So, yes. I've looked into it or have been tested for it. 

Sorry if that's blunt. But, honestly, it chaps my ass when people ask if I've been tested after NINE miscarriages. I know many are good natured and they are just trying to help. . .but it's a little insulting to me. I guess because I'm such a logical person (at times, I have moments of clarity) logically. . .WHO WOULDN'T get that checked out??? So yeah, THAT's my thought process. I own it. 

But I have been tested for everything but genetic, and we'd like to get hubs tested just for my sanity, because the IVF place we went were just horrible assholes. 

Maybe I'll write about that later. But for now, I just wish the earth aligned and I have a sticky bean. 

Life or something like it. . . ..

Wow. Words can not express the love and support I feel right now. It''s astounding. The article has some nasty comments on it, but to be honest, I laughed them off.

I'm not going to let perfect strangers make me feel bad about me. I KNOW I'm a good person. I know I have good in my heart. I refuse to give them the permission to make me feel inferior.

Today we spent a good part of it outside in the sun. Liam, I'm giving up on calling him 'hunter' as everyone knows who I am now on facebook, had his first taste of watermelon and BOY did he love it! He's currently napping and still has watermelon on his mush. So adorable.

For father's day, we're painting. Or attempting to. Liam isn't keen on paint. So I'm going to try yogurt and food coloring on paper. Lets see if that works. At the moment we're using non toxic paint and while it's cute, he's just not into it.

So painting consists of me plopping Liam IN the paint and him getting up and toddling off to do something more interesting. So most of the works of art consist of a butt print and footprints.

Quite adorable if you ask me. The goal is to frame the paintings for Daddy's office.

Lou's first father's day sucked. That is reality. We spent that whole weekend (and part of the following week) in CHOP being worked up for FTT. So I REALLY want to make this fathers day something to remember!

Reinstated???

So, about 24 hours after I was removed, I was reinstated.

I can't even tell you how awesome that was. I literally screamed and blasted Eminem.

"Guess whos back? Back again. . .Lynnie's back    . . . . .tell a friend...."

Yes, I was that happy.

I got conflicting answers from facebook, totally not confused by it to be honest. Although, I SHOULD be.

At 6pm I received this email:

Hi Lynn,

I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience you have experienced. Your account was disabled in error. Your account has been reactivated and you will now be able to log in.

Thanks for contacting Facebook,

Astrid
User Operations
Facebook


I was BOUNCING off the walls. I signed into facbook and I was hit with this:

One of Your Photos Was Removed

One of your photos was recently removed because it was found to violate Facebook policies. As a reminder, the following types of photos are not permitted:

* Content that is pornographic or contains nudity, or is inappropriately sexual
* Attacks on an individual or a group of people
* Depictions of self harm, excessive violence or drug use

Please keep this in mind before uploading new photos.

[ ] I understand I should not upload photos that violate Facebook’s policies.

[Confirm]

I tried to access my account without clicking that, but I couldn't. So I bit the bullet and checked it. Here's the thing. I didn't VIOLATE anything. I posted a photo of me where I can HARDLY be seen. 


So I sat and thought about it, I mean,, I'm happy to be back.  But what about those women who fear this on a daily basis. What about them? This isn't fair. Not at all. 


A friend of mine mention that a class action suit or something would get them to listen. But I don't even know where to begin. How to go about doing that. Anything! 


I guess what I'm saying is, I want to DO something, but quite honestly I'm not sure what I can do. I know there are women who are back after being deleted. I know there are women out there that have NEVER been back. . . ..


And facebook, while they may or may not be directly responsible for this, is encouraging this behavior. 


Lets look at what logically could be happening here.


Option 1:
There are a group of people (or a singular person) organizing this . . . .attack on nursing mothers and peaceful parents. Someone in this group gets a hold of a photo, sends it around to be flagged in a matter of hours that person would be flagged and banned for multiple reports. 


Facebook gets those multiple reports and without reviewing the ip's or the offensive picture/person/saying they ban the person who the reports are against. 


Option2: 
There is ONE person on everyones friends list who reports ONE thing. 


Facebook gets that ONE report and someone sees it. That person thinks breastfeeding is obscene and they remove the person for violating the tos. 


Option 3: 
There is a bot that goes around looking for photos with certain tag words. Those bots just remove photos and people without prejudice. 


Option 4: 
We all took the red pill, it doesn't matter. 


In all the options, facebook is encouraging this behavior.. . .. well with the exception of the red pill, we made that decision . . .or the Wachowski Brothers made it for us. 


What was my point? OH! Right. Facebook is reinforcing the behavior of these people (because I really think what is happening is more of a collective effort by some very unhappy people) by doing what they want. 


What's the saying? "Give a mouse a piece of cookie and they'll ask for some milk?"


What facebook needs to do is stick to it's policy. As long as there is no nipple showing it's fine. I honestly don't care that there are pictures of women on facebook scantily clad. What bothers me is that nursing women are held to a different standard then those photos. 


If those scantily clad women are following the photo guidelines, I'm fine with it. But don't hold me and other nursing mothers to a different standard. 


That's what pisses me off. 

Interview

Today I was interviewed for the Philadelphia Inquirer. The reporter was all kinds of awesome (she drove a hybrid and her kids were in britax boosters!!!)

We talked about things, what happened, why I think it happened and so forth.

I had a great time with her, she was way cool and I learned things too!! I had a limited idea where 'facebook' came from but I had no idea that it was a sexual tool for nerds.

She explained to me that they had photos of the girls and rated them on hotness! No WONDER they have such issue with breastfeeding.

I've read that some men see their wives differently after childbirth and nursing. So, I guess this makes sense to me too.

I'd like to also point out, I don't think this was a one off report. I honestly and truly believe that there is a group of people out there that flag things. Pages. People. Photos. For what ever reason, I believe they do this. IT has to be that. I haven't had massive amounts of flags. I haven't been warned for photos before!

This is just insane to me!

Removed.

Wow, I don't even know where to begin.

I guess I'll start with my day today. We took our son to Smith Memorial Playground.  On the way I was posting from my phone. I had posted some photos from our garden, including some very mouthwatering pictures of our strawberries. We were listening to Freebird.

I got a warning from Facebook telling me a photo I uploaded had violated the terms of service (or use) and it was flagged inappropriate and removed. I chuckled. I knew what photo it was. It's this one. I had shared it on the wall of another mama to be used in this article.

I have NO doubt that is the photo that did this.

On our way home my phone was silent. Which is unusual for me. I get notifications when people reply to me, or message me, or post on my wall, and I got nothing. I also remember checking my live feed and it wasn't updating.

After the park we headed to the Market and did some shopping and came home. I updated my status to: "Mango Salsa Chicken!" as it was what I was cooking for dinner. It never posted. Then I got a text message from a friend and I jumped on to confirm what her message said. . .My facebook had been deleted.

THIS IS INSANE!

I mean, I know this kind of thing happens to people all the time, but to me? I'm not anyone major, I'm just . .. me. Sarcastic and fiercely loyal me.

My husband, the ever optimistic person he is, said it had to be a glitch. So I went to facebook and signed in. . and I was told my account had been suspended.

I laughed.

No, I'm serious. I laughed. I'm not sure what exactly I laughed about. . .the absurdity of it all . . .maybe.

I'll expand on that:

I find it absurd that someone or a group of people flagged that photo enough to have me suspended. I find it absurd that people are SO threatened by a photo of a breastfeeding mother that they have to go to those lengths. I feel sad for them, I really and truly do. That they have nothing better to do then flag photos, groups, people. . .

A dear friend, Guggie Daily made a page on facebook to reinstate me. I don't know WHAT this page will accomplish, but the act in it of it's self brought tears to my eyes. Then, the flood of support. People wrote really awesome things on that wall and I just bawled. So, thank you.

I contacted the woman who interviewed me for a milksharing story back in November. I don't know if she would be interested, but since she did a milksharing story, I figured. . .hey. . .couldn't hurt you know?

The main thing is. . .breastfeeding isn't obscene. I understand there are women who can't breastfeed, there are women who choose not to breastfeed and there are people who think it's just wrong or disgusting. While I don't agree with those opinions, I respect their rights to have them. (to be perfectly clear, those opinions are wrong!)

So here I am. I've played some Left 4 Dead and I made some rockin' gluten free banana bread. I had awesome mango salsa chicken for dinner and I had an awesome night with my family!

I'm not mad. I'm shocked! I'm laughing. I am frustrated at the opinions of some, for sure! But, I have to keep telling myself: "they think this because of something that happened to them." So. . .I pity them.

I'll be updating my blog lots! So. . ..here we go! Lets see if Facebook reinstates me, eh?

Pissed Off

One of the things about me you should know: When I get pissed off enough, I let EVERYONE know about it. I guess it goes back to my upbringing where I was taught I should worry more about others feelings. I should make sure they are comfortable or cared for before myself.

Well, fuck that.

I have been chewed out for the last time. I believe in human rights. I believe that babies shouldn't be circumcised. I believe the owner of said body part should have a say. I do NOT believe that religion should dictate this. I believe every baby has the right to breastmilk. I believe that the CHILD should choose when to wean. It is not my choice. I believe that GLBT people deserve equal rights. To be able to marry, have children. I believe that we all should have free EVIDENCE BASED healthcare.

That being said, I have alienated myself from some of my family and friends. They think my 'extreme' views are wrong. They think that I'm 'overboard' or that I should 'get over it.'

They don't want to be part of my life if this is my life.

While I hate saying this. . . .if you feel that way, go. I'm not here to beg you to stay. We can agree to disagree, that I can agree on. But don't think I'm going to be okay with people thinking I'm a loon behind my back.

My mother is still telling me about how 'inapropriate' it was for me to breastfeed my son at his first birthday party. He was over stimulated and wild. He was hungry. And he wanted me. But it's wrong.

I'm over it! I'm over having to put up with jokes. I'm over having to defend myself. I'm over all of it.

Grief

The Kübler-Ross model, commonly known as the five stages of grief, was first introduced by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her 1969 book, On Death and Dying.

It describes, in five discrete stages, a process by which people deal with grief and tragedy, especially when diagnosed with a terminal illness or catastrophic loss. In addition to this, her book brought mainstream awareness to the sensitivity required for better treatment of individuals who are dealing with a fatal disease.

That's from Wiki. Now i understand why people get so pissed off with Wiki. Discrete my ass. I'm angry! I'm hurt! I'm frustrated! And there is nothing I can do. I can't get that baby back. I can't get any of them back.

The first stage is denial. 

I start this stage while still pregnant. People talk to me about miracle pregnancies that women bleed for seven months and they're still pregnant. They still have beautiful babies. And I buy it. I buy that it could happen to me. I could have the baby. I could be one of these women with awesome outcomes. I deny that I'm loosing the baby. I can't believe it. Why, why is it happening to me? How could it happen to me AGAIN. But it does. And then. . .

Anger. 

I get really angry. At everyone. At no one. And anyone who gets in my way is liable to be struck. It's not their fault, it's not my fault, but they become an outlet for my rage. And in my rage I start to think. . .maybe if I do something different, it'll come back. 

I BARGAIN. 

I make promises to myself, to my body, to the baby I lost. I give things up, I cry and I beg, I promise that things will change as long as I get that baby back. But it never comes back. . .. and I know it can't come back. . .so I get. . .

Depressed. 

I think about suicide. Running away. Giving up. I throw myself a big ass pity party. I eat. I hide from the world. I wonder why I'm here. What good am I as a woman if I can't do something simple as create life. . . . I read things that upset me, like the Georgia Rep. who proposed a law that would make miscarriage a punishable offence. I shit you not. 

I thought I had moved onto acceptance. But I realize that I only moved on because I bargained. I knew that my son, and his twin, were conceived on the back of a miscarriage. I said to myself that this needed to happen. It was a necessary evil. It needed to happen so I had a higher quality of egg. But it looks like I'm not pregnant. We didn't do the dance when we needed to. . ..and I'm not pregnant. And now I'm further into depression. 

I requested my chart from our old IVF clinic. The one that traumatized me and I made the mistake of reading my chart. 

One of the things that disgusted me, and a friend that was over, was the callous nature the IVF doctor talked about me in her notes. The pregnancy I lost before Hunter we had a heartbeat and it slowed and eventually stopped. She said I was in 'denial' and 'disbelief' that we lost the heartbeat. She wanted to D&C when we still had a heartbeat. She wanted me to induce with cytotec. (A drug that isn't FDA approved for that use and has been linked to uterine rupture from it's use.) I then read the lab report. 

I had to harvest that tissue. When I harvested it I found two placentas and one fetus. They were very callous when I brought the baby in. They asked me to put him in saline and bring it to them. They began pulling things apart in front of me. 

So, needless to say, today I have been in a right pissy mood. I've been having a huge pitty party all day. I went to a craft store and got some yarn, I've recently become addicted to knitting, Hubs took back two gifts we got from Hunters Aunt and we got only half of their worth in gift receipts and Hubs thought that was okay, and I flipped out. On the cashier, on him, on Auntie who wasn't even here (because she didn't give us a gift receipt. . .

So here I am in depression. 

I'm hoping I make it to acceptance soon. 

Loss

Tomorrow is my birthday. As I showered today I wondered what it was like for my biological mother. She went threw my pregnancy alone, her family didn't want her to put me up for adoption, but this was the right choice for her. I was born via section. I don't know anything more then that.

I wonder what she went threw, alone. Did she hold me. Did she love on me. Did she say anything to me.

I've been angry at her for most of my life. Because I didn't have a 'mother' the nurses at the hospital force fed me. I came home drinking over five oz at a clip as a newborn.

I wonder if she felt loss, or if she had solace in her decision. I wonder if she will think of me tomorrow like I'm thinking of her today. And while I have abandonment issues from my adoption, I feel bad for her and I'm proud of her.

I'm proud that she was brave enough to go threw my pregnancy alone. I'm proud of her for being brave. For giving my parents something they needed. Me.

My mother (my adoptive mother) suffered four still births. She made it to the late second or third trimester and she would loose the baby. She cries to this day, forty years later, about the babies she lost. She's still raw and I can't blame her. She was always told to 'get over it.' She never got to hold her babies. She never got to love on them. She had milk come in and no one to feed. No one to comfort. She had a baby born 'in pieces' as if her own body attacked them.

And she rarely talks about it to anyone other then me.

It's hard for me to keep hearing it, but I listen.

I listen to her because no one gives her a voice. No one gives women like me a voice.

Women like me that have lost. Well, I say fuck that. I'm not going to be silent. I'm not going to be embarrassed anymore. I'm not here for your comfort. I was pregnant. I loved that baby and it wasn't it's time, but it will be. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let the fear of loss prevent me from celebrating a moment.

Ch-ch-changes!

"Flowers begin to bloom, trees begin to leaf. Despite everything, despite the extremes of winter, the extremes of human conflict, spring arrives.

Sit quietly with the rebirth that is happening all around you. Feel that rebirth in your own heart. Each breath is in its way a rebirth. As you breathe in, breathe in the energy of life. As you breathe out, breathe out the energy of life. Life gives life to life, eternally, in endless cycle. There is no stopping life. As you breathe, feel the flow. Ice melting, water flowing, flowers growing."

Yeah, I'm sorry that isn't me. I found that on a meditation website and it made me vomit. The thought that some people have such wonderfully positive lives, that nothing goes wrong for them, that everything is sunshine and roses makes me  just want to stomp all over those tiny unicorns farting rainbows all over the place just because I can. 

*deep cleansing breath* 

Much better. 

Now, I know things are changing. I am embracing that. I know that when you embrace change you grow as a person. You become a better person. I want to be a better person. I really want to see the glass half full. I want to be able to just feel free. Probably will never happen, and not because I'm a realist. I expect the best but plan for the worst. That is my comfort zone. 

Actually, I should correct myself. My comfort zone right now consists of Talenti Ice Cream, Grey's Anatomy and a couch. I've pretty much cut off contact to most people. I know this needs to change. I can't survive alone. I need friends and family and sunshine and lots of things, but I really don't have the patience to answer the question 'why?'

Why didn't you go to the ER?

How can you not know if you're pregnant?

Why didn't you try a different doctor?

Here is my answer: If you're asking those questions, you don't know me. And while I respect everyones concern, asking me why isn't really something I'm ready to read or deal with. 

I found the Venus of Willendorf  and I really enjoyed seeing her as I can relate to her body type. She's big and beautiful and fertile and. . .I can't relate to that right now. I don't feel beautiful. I don't feel fertile. I feel . . .like rain. I feel disjointed, chaotic, and I guess that's okay. 

I just have to keep telling myself. . .'no rain, no rainbows.' 

Indian Giver

Indian giver is an English expression used in North America, used to describe a person who gives a gift (literal or figurative) and later wants it back, or something equivalent in return.

It is unclear exactly how this expression came to be, but the consensus is that it is based on Native Americans having a distinctly different sense of property ownership as opposed to those of European ancestry. One theory holds that early European settlers in North America misinterpreted aid and goods they received from Native Americans as "gifts," when in fact they were intended to be offered in trade, as many tribes operated economically by some form of barter system, or a gift economy where reciprocal giving was practiced.

For those of you unable to read between the lines, I’m all but certain I’ve lost Gift. I’ll not be 100% until my next cycle, as I’m not going to the ER.

Rewind:

Almost a week ago I started spotting, and had light bleeding for two days. This bleeding wasn’t anything major. I never even had to wear a pad. I went to the bathroom, had some small clots, and never had any pain. As suddenly as the bleeding started, it stopped. I called my GP (General Practitioner) and asked for a script for a pelvic ultrasound and beta levels (that’s a blood test.) He said with my history of miscarriage, I had to go to the ER. Anyone who knows me, knows I don’t do ER. So I called my mother’s OB. I was told to go to the ER.

I don’t do ER.

I could make a whole other post about how the ER is for emergencies, but I won’t.

I took a few hpt’s and they’ve been negative. My mother tried, she really tried. “Maybe you’re losing the twin. Maybe you’re still pregnant.” If I did, I’d have a positive hpt.

So here I am trying to come to grips with uncertainty. And I know many people would tell me to go to the ER or go to a doctor. But why? I went over this in Therapy this past week. Why would I go to an OB? What could they possibly do? They can’t prevent a miscarriage. They can’t take it back. They can’t offer me answers or solace. And I know many of you would say ‘at least I’d know if I’m pregnant or not.’ That isn’t an answer. That’s another question.

If I am still pregnant, which I doubt I am, what then? The giant SUV we have won’t fit another carseat. We would have to sell it and get a different vehicle. How will Hunter deal with a new baby? How will I? Will I get my HBAC?

If I’m not, why? They CAN NOT answer that question. I’ve been worked up. I’ve been poked and prodded and tested and here’s what we know, or we think we know:

They tried to tell me that I have PCOS but they didn’t put me on metformin. I have more hair then the man in the moon. I don’t have issues getting pregnant. I don’t have acne, lots of hair on my legs or my vajay-jay. So, the only SYMPTOM I have of PCOS is. . .I’m fat. That does not PCOS make.

I don’t have a luteal phase defect. I was on progesterone, I still lost the baby.

The only thing that makes sense is celiac disease. But I still lost this baby. So, really, what would an OB do? Nothing. Nothing except waste my time and emotions.

This past week has been depressing and hard and awesome at the same time.

Somewhere, somehow, Hunter got sick and I got it too, sore throat, cough, snot out the ass gross sickness. I’m being kicked while I’m down. I ask myself why. I ask myself what I did to be put through this. Who did I piss off? Why do people WHO SHOULDN’T have children have them? Why is it so easy for them and so hard for us? So hard for me?

And like every time I lose a baby, there are a hundred women that pop up excited and happy and I . . .I am so fucking jealous.

What if I can’t have any more children? What if the section scar prevents proper implantation? What if my body can’t do it? As my husband would say “I think you have the scariest ‘what if.’” Would I be happy with just Hunter? Of course. He’s given me a reason for living. A reason for being. I was pushed off the edge of a cliff and he brought me back. But I’d really like more. We’d love more. And every time someone says to me ‘oh have mine’ or ‘Ugh, you’re not missing anything.’ Anything like that, I get pissed off.

I get SO pissed off that they have this gift . . .and they want to give it away when I would move heaven and earth to have it.

They don’t realize, they are Indian givers too. 

Fear

From Wikipedia: Fear is a distressing emotion aroused by a perceived threat. It is a basic survival mechanism occurring in response to a specific stimulus, such as painor the threat of danger. In short, fear is the ability to recognize danger and flee from it or fight, also known as the Fight or Flight response. Some psychologists such as John B. Watson, Robert Plutchik, and Paul Ekmanhave suggested that fear belongs to a small set of basic or innate emotions. This set also includes such emotions as joy, sadness, and anger. Fear should be distinguished from the related emotional state of anxiety, which typically occurs without any external threat. Additionally, fear is related to the specific behaviors of escape and avoidance, whereas anxiety is the result of threats which are perceived to be uncontrollable or unavoidable. Worth noting is that fear almost always relates to future events, such as worsening of a situation, or continuation of a situation that is unacceptable. Fear could also be an instant reaction to something presently happening.




Fear is a scary thing. It's a motivator, a way to control or manipulate. People used fear on me during my last pregnancy. I was told I had to have tons of ultrasounds, birth in a hospital. . .many things that I'm not okay with today. Things, I wasn't really comfortable with yesterday. 


Hunter was a twin. We lost his sister in the first trimester. He had a single artery cord, with that comes some complications. They were concerned that he could have a hole in his heart. So, we had an echocardiagram. All these tests before we even met him. 


Thankfully my beautiful boy is healthy and fine. But I've had my trouble. One of the symptoms of untreated celiac disease is recurrent miscarriage. So many women have issues staying pregnant and they're told 'sometimes these things happen.' 


So I'm controlling my celiac but that doesn't mean I have lost the fear. Any woman who has lost one baby, two babies, seven babies, is going to be paranoid. 


Hello, I'm paranoid. 


I constantly wonder: 
Did I tell people too soon? 
What if I loose this one?
Is that a cramp or a growing pain? 


And every time I go to the bathroom. . . .it's almost in dread. . .but every time I look at the tissue as if I expect it to be tinged red. 


I'm very much one with my duality. I am very positive that everything will be fine with this pregnancy. That Gift will come earthside in this amazingly healing birth and (although I'm a little sad to admit) I'll do a happy dance and say 'nyah nyah' to all the naysayers. 


But there is part of me that thinks. That buys into the fear. That worries that I'm on borrowed time. In all honesty, I'll breathe a huge sigh of relief at eight weeks.  I always lost at six weeks. The longest I made it was 10 weeks and I was on clomid and I still lost a heart beat. 


So, say a little prayer for me, or light a candle or fart a rainbow, whatever. 


It's not like I can do anything different, what will be will be. . .I guess I just want to know the spotting I had. . .was just that. 


spotting. 


Gotta love the fear. 

Interviews

So, we've made our decision. We're homebirthing this baby. After the horrific birth we had with our Hunter, Hubs and I are just not comfortable birthing Gift at home.

Gift is what we are calling this baby as it was a complete surprise and we found out on Hubs' birthday!

I interviewed a midwife earlier this week, and we're going to have a sit down with her in the near future. We're also going to interview another midwifery practice as well. I'm leaning towards the first midwife as she's hands off, which is what we want.

The only thing I'm having issues with is she doesn't have a back up OB. So that would be on me to find one. I have issue with lying to doctors. I'm pretty blunt and I'm pretty honest. So now I'm faced with, do I go to the trouble of interviewing an OB and saying 'yeah I'm going for an HBAC!' or do I lie and let them believe that I'm going to birth with THEM in a *gasp* hospital. I guess I'm just not comfortable lying to anyone. If you have issue with what I'm doing, guess what? It's not your choice. It's OURS.

Respect it or step off. Those are your choices.

My parents are very uncomfortable with us birthing at home, which I understand. So I'm sitting my Mother down to watch The Business of Being Born. Hopefully she will see my issues with the medical profession, more accurately OB's.

I think OB's have a place in our life. I do. However, they are over used. They are surgeons. If you want a surgical birth, go to them. I DO NOT want a surgical birth so I'm going to a midwife. It's really that simple.

Then I have people ask me about my miscarriages. "Is it SAFE!?"

Why wouldn't it be? If I lost those babies, there was something WRONG. Doesn't mean I didn't love them or want them. Doesn't mean I didn't mourn them, but there was something WRONG. There isn't anything wrong with me!

So, yeah. Interviews.

I'm also trying to decide if I want a doula (along with the midwife) and who I would want as that doula. I know TWO people on the earth I'd FLY OUT to DOULA for me, mostly because I know them and we just click. But I don't know if that's financially effective, for them or us. And they should know who they are. What I'd be looking for is someone who gets our sense of humor, is really knowledgeable in VBAC/HBAC/UBAC and has a soft spoken and comforting positive side to them. I KNOW I'm going to get to the point where I might say 'I can't do this!' And I'm saying it here and NOW! I NEED TO DO THIS. I CAN do this. And I need people around me to support me in that. Support Hubs in that.

So, basically that's where we are. Trying to sort everything out and keep sane.

Yes, you can be fluffy and crunchy with teeth.

Heyo. Hi. Welcome.

So, I'm pregnant. This is awesome and scary for me at the same time. You see, I've had many pregnancies and lost many babies. I found out this was due to an undiagnosed case of Ciliac Disease.  You have no idea how depressed this fat girl was when she found out she could no longer enjoy bread. But you know what? I don't really miss it. But that's a whole different post. This is a 'hey there, you should expect this. . .' kinda post.

Right. Expect nothing. Nothing is taboo with me. I shit you not.

Well, I won't post photos of my vagina. So don't ask. Well, I might. But there will be somethin' shooting out of it.

A baby.

My first son, we'll call him Hunter, was born via an unnessarian. It was horrific and I have a scorching case of PTSD from it. I've been going to therapy for almost 7 months. I'm doing well, but I still have a lot of anger from it.

So as a big 'Fuck You' to the people who did this to me, I'm planning an HBAC!

Please, do NOT get me wrong. This is for us. This is what I want. What our family wants. It's just icing on the gluten free cake to prove assholes wrong. Not that I'm bitter or anything.

Anywho, I've been married for six years to an awesome man who supports me. But more importantly, he gets me.  Maybe sometime I'll share my birth story here, maybe I can get him to share as well. But I whole heartedly think that one of the reasons I was talked into a section is. . . drum roll please. . .I'm fat. I get it. There is a stigmata with being 'large' and I'm trying to be comfortable in my skin.

Regardless of my size. I'm having an HBAC.

There is no doubt in my mind.

So, welcome. Creep, be public, I don't care. . . just enjoy the ride.