This week there isn’t much healthy living for me to report. You see, I’ve been horribly sick and going through a miscarriage. It’s pretty effective weight loss, but I don’t recommend it. Next week we’ll be back to blogging about weight loss and living healthy lives.
You’d think I’d be used to this by now. You’d think I’d learn to not get my hopes up. You’d think I’d learn to deal with my miscarriages with some sort of clinical detachment.
But I haven’t.
This time when I got the positive, I thought I had it all under control. I calmly called my RE’s office, arranged for bloodwork, arranged for my progesterone prescription, and spoke with the nurse about our next steps. Then I calmly called my primary care physician and spoke to her about changing some of my medications, beginning insulin, and increasing my calorie intake so I wouldn’t continue to lose weight.
This time, I managed to refrain from announcing my pregnancy on Facebook. Although I live my life very much online, I thought I should at least make it to an ultrasound with a heart beat before doing that this time. Aside from my husband and doctors, I told only a few people “ one of my best friends and some work colleagues who would need to know in case things went South. And then I just went on with life.
Of course, all of that detachment didn’t matter when the bleeding started. It was all just a facade and I pretty much fell apart.
In the midst of it all, every single person in my house managed to catch some virus winging its way around my kids’ school. I was the last to fall. After one full week, everyone was back at work or school today and now it’s just me here recovering from the plague and a miscarriage and waiting for someone to come punch my Frequent Miscarriage Card. After six, I’d better be entitled to at least a free frozen yogurt.
While we’ve all been sick it’s been awfully easy to feel sorry for myself; to wallow in the why me’s? and the sadness. But that’s not really me. Yesterday I managed to remain upright and vertical for two hours and today I’m hoping for at least three. Tomorrow I’ll start picking up the pieces and living life again. Because that’s what I do.
* Photo by Stephanie Himel-Nelson.
