Posts Tagged ‘health’

Miscarriages Suck.

Posted June 15, 2012 Life 12 Comments

So, some serious stuff has gone down for me recently, and the blog is about to reflect that.  And only because I’m mostly in the bag off of my most amazing sangria, do I feel that I can tell you all about it.  (I’m sure I’ll regret this later, but whatever…)

I was pregnant.  Was being the operative word here.

It was a complete surprise when we found out.  I was half “Oh holy hell, how am I going to do this again?” and half “Yay! I can haz babieeeeeeeees!”  But, after only a few short days, my momma instinct kicked in and we started happily planning.

My head was full:  We’ll make the loft into a full room.  We will have to buy new baby stuffs.  The girls will be so excited! I will make them special shirts to wear on mothers day!  We will have sleepless nights but many more happy giggles!  After a sad year of loss, there will be a birth!  I probably won’t be able to participate in the Komen 3-day as a captain, but I will go as a walker-stalker, so that’s okay.  I guess I can’t go to FitBloggin‘ either, so no point worrying about that.  But there will be so many other firsts, so it will be ok.  Everything will be okay.  Better than okay!

Yeah. That wasn’t meant to be.

We had an sonogram appointment where we didn’t see what should be seen.  The doctor said a whole lot of “blah blah blahs” and I was poked and prodded and drained of bodily fluids and told to wait.  Just, wait.  Then come back again, and get prodded again, rinse, repeat.

It was exhausting.  And annoying.  And stressful.  Really fucking stressful.

And one day, it just happened.  {You should be well warned here, it’s about to get really REAL up in here.  Those of you that are faint of heart should probably leave.}

I had a spontaneous miscarriage.  That mostly means I bled like all of my insides were coming out, and I cramped as if I were having contractions.  It was intense and scary and I was totally unprepared.  Of course it was a Saturday where my doctor was out of reach.  And they don’t make a “What to expect when you’re miscarrying” book.  {But, if they did, the first chapter would be, “This is going to hurt and be as scary as fuck” and the second would be, “Oh, by the way, this will last for weeks.”  And the publishers of the book would totally encourage you to use it as kindling when you were done with it.}

Anyway.

To make matters worse, hardly anyone close to me knew. Not about me being pregnant, and certainly not about miscarrying.  (Some are finding out right now.  My bad.)  My husband knew of course, our parents, a good friend, but that was it.  So on a day where my girls (who didn’t know at the time) were celebrating at the church picnic, I was doubled over in my bedroom.  A few hours later I had to attend the big end-of-the-year play they were in.  In the throws of intense heartache and pain, I had to pretend all was fine.  That, my friends, was horrible.

And on and on and on that went.  I had to ditch out on regularly scheduled activities, but I couldn’t bare to tell people why. When I couldn’t get into the pool on the opening day, I had to come up with some lame excuse.  The pain and cramps came and went and came back again.

Then there was the obnoxious stuff that got to me too.  The lady who took my blood (for the 4th time in a few weeks) who finally asks me “what are you here for, anyway?”  Really lady?  Did you not read the order that plainly says miscarriage?  {I should have told her they were checking for the Plague.}

Or being ushered into the doctor’s office and leaning back for the sonogram, only to be greeted with the baby-themed art hanging on the ceiling.  You’d think an OBGYN that big could at least devote one room to non-pregnant patients.  As if having to say to the receptionist why I need to come in — “I’m having a miscarriage” — isn’t bad enough.  As if having to re-tell the nurse and doctor isn’t worse.  Let’s just hit the hypersensitive lady over the head with what she isn’t gong to have while she’s in the most exposed position known to man.  Yeah.  Thanks for that.  Assholes.

Even the well-meaning people who were just living their lives got to me.  There were babies and pregnant people everywhere.  Random talks of “having more children” vs. “being done” were a new trend too.  My precious well-meaning kids kept asking for a baby sibling constantly….we’re talking screams of “Mommy, have another baby!” hurled at me every day.  All while I’m trying to say goodbye to something that was barely anything inside of me.

{Slightly inappropriate side note:  I totally had a “Good Will Hunting” moment in all of this.  You know the scene where the shrink says to Will that it’s not his fault, over and over, until Will breaks down?  Well, my Mom is talking to me on the phone, and she’s all, “It’s ok to grieve, honey” and I’m all, “I know, Mom.”  And she’s all, “No, really, it’s okay.“  Am I’m all, “I know Mom.”  Until I realize I’ve hung up the phone with her, I’m realizing fully what I’ve lost even though it was so small, and I’m totally full on ugly crying.  I had to laugh (and cry some more) at the fact that I totally just lived out a scene from a movie.}

Needless to say, this has been so … tiring.  I honestly am telling you all of this because it’s just not something I can keep inside any longer.  I don’t feel like making excuses and I don’t want to tip toe around it any more.  I want it to be over.  I need to say goodbye.  I need to let it go into the universe and move on.

Of course, blogging is the best way to do that.  Duh.

So, if I’ve been MIA, or ignoring you, or not available, or just “off,” then now you know why.  I’m becoming okay.  I have worked through the stages of grief — the sixth being blogging with a glass of my excellent sangria — and have almost made it mostly intact through to the other side.  I’ve made improper jokes to mask the pain, but at least I got it all out.  And I finished the sangria.  So there.

 

Pro-Cure

Posted February 8, 2012 Life 10 Comments

 

This past week has been very difficult for me. I’ve been quite ill, and pretty much unable to speak on one subject that has been hitting me upside the head, over and over again through the media: the Planned Parenthood and Komen debacle.

A little back story:

I have been a Susan G. Komen 3-day participant since 2008.  I have raised well over $7,000 for the organization.  The walks have literally changed my life for the better.  I walk more than I ever would have before, I give more, and they also opened my eyes to a community that is nothing but supportive and caring.

Planned Parenthood was a part of my life throughout my early 20′s.  They were my health care provider, and they were the only reason I was able to afford birth control.  They also were the ones that found a suspicious spot on my breast and then subsequently sent me to another doctor for a second opinion.  They also paid for that visit.  Things turned out fine, but it was a key moment in my life, I believe, that sent me eventually to Komen’s doorstep.

So, with all of the social and main stream media frenzy going on, I have found my self split in two.  It had me questioning if everything I’ve been doing these past 5 years has been right or wrong. It has left me heartbroken and confused.

But then, this week, a blogger that I silently followed and very much looked up to passed away….metastatic inflammatory breast cancer took her just two days ago. And with a blink of an eye I realized that all of these issues are nothing compared to how her family is feeling now.

I looked to Susan’s blog for answers or thoughts. Should I continue in this fight? What would she say about the events of this week? I really don’t know, but I did find this blog post (http://toddlerplanet.wordpress.com/category/pink-tober/) on her thoughts about the “pinkwashing” of October, and I find it may just point me in the right direction.

She writes:

“What I want to say here, and I don’t really know how, is that I APPRECIATE the efforts of all the people and organizations in the world bringing attention to a color that has already gotten a lot of attention this month: pink. There are shades of goodness in pink and shades that worry me. I realize now that they can co-exist, and that we can appreciate and enjoy all the shades of pink without declaring them ALL GOOD or all worthless, and that each shade of pink makes a contribution to the Fall mosaic around us that is bringing awareness and action to breast cancers, and is fighting the good fight in the way that feels right to them.

 

Today, I thank all the people and all the organizations formed across the globe that support the fight against breast cancer, that raise awareness, that raise funds for research, and that raise the spirits of those who struggle with this disease, in their own bodies or in that of the friends and family who they love. NEVER DOUBT that what you do makes a difference. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

This.

There have been a lot more variances added to the color pink this week.  Not all of them good, not all of them bad.  But all of them are still working to the same goal.

Did Komen go wrong in my eyes?  Yes.  Was this a total PR nightmare?  Yes.  Is Planned Parenthood any worse for it?  Not at all, better so in fact.  Do I fault anyone for going to another breast cancer organization?  No….it’s just another shade of pink.

Are there still women and men dying from this disease every. freaking. day?

YES. YES. YES.

Susan lived as long as she did thanks to the countless people who have supported the fight against cancer.  But Susan still deserved many, many more years.

This is why I will not walk away.  Komen, even with all of it’s faults, has advanced our cause by leaps and bounds.  I hope that they learn from this mistake and grow – and maybe this whole fallout was written in the stars so that growth could happen.  Maybe if I stick around, my voice will be heard and growth WILL happen.

I am many things.  I am not perfect.  I am not all-seeing and all-knowing.  Hell, I’m not even 100% on this decision.

But what I am is Pro-freedom of thought.  I am Pro-second chances.  I’m am Pro-women.  I am Pro-active.  I am pro-health and pro-longer lives for all.

I am pro-cure.

 This image provided by www.pro-cure.me!

Diets. Meh.

Posted January 26, 2012 Fitness 6 Comments

Diets.

Meh.

Diets suck.

Oh wait…I’m suppossed to be living a “life change,” not a diet.

But, you know what?  That’s bullshit.

I didn’t change my life.  I mean, not completely.  Not yet.

I still want to eat bread & butter like it’s my job.  I think anything I eat after midnight has no calories.  I still think peanut butter is the goo of the gods and that cantalope is complete crap.

None of that is going to change overnight…or even anytime soon.

I mean, really…who the hell wakes up one morning and goes, “HOLY FUCK!  I no longer want to eat movie theater popcorn or french fries!  I can’t stand the sight of cookies!  If I don’t get a plate full of spinach right now I’m going to die!”

 

 

"This is going to be the best freaking thing I eat all day!!! Hmmm, how many calories in just one pea?"

 

Um, no one.  No one says that.  Ever.

And who wants to be like that!?

{Dude, if you even thought the answer might be me, you obviously have no idea how much I lust after movie theater popcorn.  Me and movie theater popcorn are bffs and if you try to take it away from me I might get stabby.  No joke…I once tried to go a whole movie without it and I left the theater in a cold sweat.  Crying.  Possibly with full on detox symptoms.}

I definitely don’t want to be like that…mostly because I think I would go crazy.  Not that healthy food drives me over the edge, but completely illiminating food from my diet does.  (Again, not even kidding.  When I tried to do Atkins I nearly killed my husband.  With bacon.)  Maybe one day, down the line, I will think that the plate of spinach looks more appealing than the burger.  That’d be awesome!  But, I can’t just force that breakthrough.  That’s a battle that has to be fought.  And when it’s won, hopefully it will make that spinach taste even better.

My point:  I don’t like diets, though I’m all for trying to eat better.  It’s a difficult thing to create better eating habits. I’m still trying though, just as long as I don’t have to give up the popcorn.

That you can take from my cold dead buttery hands.

 

Crackalackin’

Posted January 11, 2012 Fitness 8 Comments

 

Grrr. After posting about yoga yesterday, I was nervous, but way excited to go back. But, of course, I didn’t make it. Sigh. Only, this time, it wasn’t totally all because of my last-minute-ness. I went to weight watchers before hand, and the meeting ran over. I didn’t even notice it til the class had already been going for 10 minutes. Sigh.

Off to the machines I went instead.

Yay.

(You can read the lack of enthusiasm, right? Good.)

Climbing on top of the stair climber slash elliptical slash death machine, I set off for my half hour of working out – mostly just hoping that I wouldn’t pass out or die in a freak accident. Seeing as how I hadn’t done any kind of cardiovascular activity since before the dawn of time (aka: Christmas) I thought this fear was well warranted.

 

The Death Machine

 

Although, I must admit, it wouldn’t be too bad to have the headline of my obit read that I died on the treadmill. I mean, that’s got to count for something, right?

Anyway, cut to 5 hours in (or, in other words, 5 minutes) and I had this full-on inner crazy monologue running in my head.

“Yes, potential gym member on a tour, that is me blasting the Lupe Fiasco at volumes to which would make small children cry. My bad.”

“Yes, gym cleaning lady, that is me breathing so hard that you did a double take. Yes, it is a huge feat for me to actually keep my lung inside my chest.”

“Yes, neighboring stair-climber, that just may have been my sweat that hit you in the face. It has a mind of its own, you know!”

“Yes, row in front of me, that loud cracking sound you heard was indeed the sound of my knee threatening a revolt and almost collapsing in on me. Music to your ears, no!?!”

I think at this point I had just about lost my cool. And consequently, this is the point in the post in which I totally stop being funny and get real fucking serious. Bare with me for a moment.

For the first time in my life, while on that machine, I was scared while exercising. My knees buckled on me 4 times. Four freaking times. That is some serious shit. I’ve been a “big girl” for a while, but I could always climb my ass on top of an elliptical and bang out a half hour workout with out much of an issue. And now my knees are under so much pressure that they simply can’t handle the load anymore. After so many years of this pressure, and after so many miles of work, they’ve simply given up.

Seriously, this really scares me. Like, for real, for real. I’m thoroughly full of fear. I’m kinda at the “I’m about to cry” point. And I so don’t want to cry anymore.

There is a part of me that doesn’t even want to put this on the blog. First of all, it’s not at all funny. Well, I guess some of it is funny. But the rest of it is only funny is you’re an asshole. (And I know you guys are not at all assholes.)

Second of all, it means that I am admitting to the issue. And that then means that I really have to do something about it. And that then means that I have to try even though I’m fraught with “IfITryAgainIMightFailAgainAndthatMightBeCrushing…Again” syndrome. Who the hell likes that? Not this girl. This girl is almost paralyzed by it.

But what’s the other option, really? To keep going this way? To keep slooooooowly putting the weight on? To sloooooooowly creep my way to diabetes and high blood pressure and depression? (Really, it’s a miracle that none of this is an issue yet.) Is that what I want for my life? For my kids or my husband? For me?

Um, in a two words: Hells. No.

Cause I’m fucking awesome, in case you didn’t know.

So, the only option is to try. To keep trying. To push myself out over the ledge (gulp) and hope that there is a net under me that not only catches me while I’m falling, but also bounces me back up.

Okay, I wanted to end this with something witty or funny or a grand closing statement. But, at this point, I think if I take the time to craft that, I won’t publish any of this, and I really really really need to publish this. So, sorry about my douche-canoe-y-ness, okay?

Click.  Publish.  Nerves.

(Wait, there is actually something! When I was spell checking this, Open Office totally knew that douche-canoe-y-ness was spelled wrong. The whole thing. High five Open Office. High fucking five.)

 

Warm. Drunk. On a Beach.

Posted January 4, 2012 Fitness, Life 2 Comments

 

I belong to a site that sends you daily health challenges – called Daily Challenge, oddly enough.

Today’s daily challenge is to picture yourself three months from now and to write down three words that describe you at that time. The idea is to form your “better you” goals a little more and to give yourself motivation to get to those goals.

 

 

That is how it is supposed to work.

(I should say, at this point, that I really do love Daily Challenge. I feel like it helps me home in on small steps to get to a better me. No sarcasm. I actually think it’s a good thing.)

But…..

Do I really want to come up with little happy heathly words for you today, Daily Challenge?

Um, No.  Eff that nonsence.

Today I came up with these 3 words instead: Warm. Drunk. On a beach.

Awesome goals, I know.

(Don’t look at me like that. I’m fully aware that it’s only January 4th, and that I’m supposed to be knee-deep in my resolutions. And I know that laying on a beach with a drink in my hands isn’t the healthiest option. And yes, I know that I can’t even follow a simple “3-word” direction. Whatever.)

Here’s the thing – it’s ridonkulously cold here. It’s only the first week of January and I already feel like a cracked out cold-blooded reptile that just needs a hit of warmth. Just a little hit. To make the shaking go away. Pleaaaaaase. I’m begging you. Can I get just one rib?!?

Uhhh, I’m sorry….where were we?

Oh, yeah – it’s fucking cold.

For real – I found my cat sitting on top of an air vent today.  She was all cuddled up next to the litter box in a dark corner of the house, away from her normal sunning spot, sitting fully over the vent.  Just sitting there, right next to the place she “goes” in.  (Think about it – do you sit right next to the toilet after you drop a bomb?  No, hopefully you don’t, cause that’s gross.)  So you see, it was totally weird to see her chillin’ in there.  Just sucking up the warm heated goodness.

And I was so jealous.  I totally wanted to be that warm – smell be damned.

And then she looked at me like “Don’t even think of moving me.  I will totally cut you.”

Wisely, I backed away, cause I’m not an idiot.  But now I’m thinking, I could sit under our kickass sweatshirt blanket (Don’t have one? Get one. Now.) and make a fire, or I could sit under our sweatshirt blanket, and attempt a fire while getting tipsy and possibly set said blanket on fire.

We all know which is the better option.

And the even better option would be to leave this cursed place and go straight to some tropical island with blue water and free, perhaps also blue, margaritas. It would have to be a beach where no one laughed at my rolls, though…they have those, right?

Annnnnd, that brings me back to the Daily Challenge.  Dammit.

 

 

If you really knew me.

Posted December 21, 2011 Life No Comments

This isn’t a funny post.  It’s kinda preachy too.  But, you’ll deal…

I admit it – I’m sitting here watching MTV.  Reality shows on MTV at that.  But, I’m okay with it, because I think I may have found the most productive show MTV has created – “If You Really Knew Me.”  Have you heard of it?  Here’s the description from the website:

“Like a reality version of The Breakfast Club, each episode of If You Really Knew Me takes place at a different high school, and follows five students from different cliques as they go through the life-changing experience of Challenge Day, a one-day program that breaks down the walls between cliques, and completely changes the way students view their school and each other. Watch the amazing transformation each week as new students open up for the first time and try to change by revealing who they really are, behind the cliques and the labels.”

One activity that the kids do (that shares the title of the show) simply has them finish the sentence, “If you really knew me…” In a small group of their peers, these kids open up to each other – share experiences and feeling that they otherwise would have kept inside. Kept inside and let simmer.  Then let boil.  And then…run over? Turn into something worse, like depression or worse still?

In another activity, there is a line, and if they fit a certain category that is called out, the kids cross it.  So, “cross the line if you have ever been bullied.” “If you have been made fun of for the way you look.”  “If you have ever had your childhood taken from you.”

Wow.

These kids open up.  They let it out.  They get supported.  They get heard.  They see that others are dealing with the exact same thing.

Now, I’m not naive.  I’m sure some of them are being fake.  Or putting on a show for the camera.  And maybe the “high” of that day wears off quickly.  But, I’d like to think – and I hope – that it doesn’t.  That, the kids take the lessons they learned and carry them forward into adulthood.

What if you would have done a Challenge Day?  Would your high school days have been different?  Or your adult days?

I really hope my girls will have something like this when they get to high school.  I hope it becomes mandatory for all schools.  Hell, I wish this was mandatory NOW – for families, for friends, for anyone in a community – to sit down and periodically just open up every now and again..  So we could all just freaking get along.

And really?  Really, the blogoshpere could use it too.  Oh yes, we know this to be true.  Yeah, we are pretty open about who we are…but there are still clicks, and drama, and labeling, and bullying.  Mmmmm, hmmm.  Bucket fulls.

And it’s all so…high school.  Because we are more alike than we are different.  Because I’m pretty sure a lot of you are a lot like me, and that I’m a lot like you.

If you only really knew me…

A Healthy Advent Calendar

Posted November 28, 2011 Fitness No Comments

 

I love a good advent calendar.  The chocolate filled ones are the bees knees, in particular.  Mmmmm, milk chocolaty goodness….

But, while it tastes scrumdiddlyumptious, it is not at all helpful for keeping the pounds at bay.  In a time when I overindulge at every turn, I really don’t need another sweet every day.

 

Bad chocolate. Bad.

 

Instead, this year I’ll be putting the Fitness Tree advent calendar to the test!

The girls over at Shrinking Jeans have a challenge for us all – a healthy advent calendar.  One of the bloggers that play along with them – Mary – had this great idea and was kind enough to share.  The ladies have picked it up and are now asking us all to run with it – literally.

Or yoga.  Or bootcamp.  Or walk.  Or whatever it is that you do that will keep you from fluffing up like the man in the big red suit.

It’s super simple.  Go to the Shrinking Jeans post and read.  Print out the spiffy advent tree printable and buy some stickers.  Then, everyday, move your booty.  However long you see fit, in what every way you see fit.  And after you do so, relive your Lisa-Frank-lovin’ middle school awkward years and bling up that tree with your very best glittery puffed up stickers.   (Cause putting awesome stickers on an advent calendar is just as good as chocolate.  No, I’m being serious.  It is.  No, really.  Stickers are the bomb.  Shut up.)

I think this will really help me stay on track this Christmas season.  Let me know if you do it too – we can share in the stickery fun together!

 

Teaching kids about health and image

Posted November 20, 2011 Life, Parenting 3 Comments

 

Remember when I discussed how our girls see themselves? And my thoughts on the word “fat?”

We were “interviewing” our daughters today for fun. This is how some of the questioning went down:

Husband: “What’s your favorite soda?”

Daughter: “I like the one that doesn’t have too many calories.”

H: “Why is that?”

D: “Because the other ones can make you fat.”

**Sigh. She is 6. And is worried about fat. My newly charged beliefs on this subject were ready to zoom into action.**

H: “What’s wrong with that?”

D: “Then you might not fit down the slide.”

Me: “Would you ever tell someone they were fat?”

D: “No!!! That would be rude!”

**Amen, sister.**

More discussions will be had about this with my kids, but for now I have a question for you all…

How do we, as a society, raise our kids to be healthy, physically, but also know that what is on the inside is important too?  How do we tell them that your physicality does not define you but that it is a good thing to work on?

Movement is a gift

Posted November 9, 2011 Fitness No Comments

 

 

I just wanted to share something small with you tonight – a quote from a woman in my meeting today.  This lady started her weight loss journey at 400+ pounds.  She has a metal brace on her leg and uses a walker to help get around, but these things do not stop her!

We were celebrating her today, as she had lost 200 pounds and had walked farther than she ever had before.  She had this to say:

“Movement is a gift.  200 pounds ago I used to sit at my window and watch the world go by.  I couldn’t go out there and do like everyone else.  I just had to sit and watch it all happen – without me.  I couldn’t do anything.  Now, I can do too!  I can go out there and walk a mile! I am beyond thankful that I can now move...it is a gift that I cherish.”

Not only that, but right after the meeting she was down at the treadmills, walking away!  She got up on that machine, brace and all, and started moving forward.  This struck me.

I could use a little of this in my life.  It’s all too easy to complain, and whine, and bitch, and moan, and find excuses when it comes to work out time.  But, I can move…a lot!  I can dance with my kids!  I can do yoga!  I can walk 60 freakin’ miles!  How amazing is that!?!  After hearing her story, I’d say that I have a pretty darn good gift.

Now, to find more ways to put it to use…

Transformation Nation

Posted November 6, 2011 Fitness 2 Comments

 

I could really use a million dollars.  I could really use to lose 10% of my body weight.

So, with a deep sigh, but with elevated hopes of a great result, I’m turning to Dr. Oz.

 

 

(Side note before I go on – I’m sharing this just cause I want to.  Not because it’s “sponsored” or paid.  And not just because I think Dr. Oz has a fantastic name…even though he totally does.)

It’s pretty simple, really.  You take a health quiz (but woah nelly does Dr. Oz get all up in your personal business.  Cough*thereismentionofsex*Cough.) And you get a personalized report, fitness calendar, and place to track your progress.

Then you take 7 steps to not only qualify for the contest to win a million bucks, but to also get healthier.  Both of which would be lovely prizes.  (Imagine all the yoga classes I could sign up for! Gasp!  No really, I’m not being sarcastic this time.  I loves me some yoga.)

The steps include:

  1. Telling a friend.  (And if you are the “I enter into every social media contest I see” type, you’ll know that spamming just one of your friends isn’t too bad.  Heck, they might enter and win and you could strong arm them into a piece of the mil.  Score.)
  2. Weigh in.  This is the tricky part – you have to go to a Weight Watchers weigh-in to make it official.  You don’t have to stick around (but you can, for free, for one meeting) and you don’t have to pay any money.  You (I) just have to peel your (my) ass off the couch and go.
  3. Go get a check up.  I haven’t done this in just about forever.   HDL? LDL? Um, WTH?!  I guess I’d better go figure that out.
  4. Learn your family’s health history.  This is tricky if your family is the “don’t ask, don’t tell” type, but pry it out of them.
  5. Get more sleep.  Yes please.
  6. Assess your stress – take a quiz and get tips to lower it.  Sounds good.  Cause mama should probably have more means of dealing with it than reese’s peanut butter cups and margaritas.  I guess. If I have to.
  7. Take a quiz on your fitness level and get tips to get your ass in gear.  (I think I see Zumba in my future.)

You have lots of time to get these steps done.  To qualify for the prize you have to go down 10% of your body weight or get to a healthy bmi.  And they suggest you do it in 2 lbs/week increments.  Not crazy biggest-loser-style.  Amen.

I’m all in.  Will you join me?  If you do, and I win, I’ll be sure to throw a few bucks your way!

Maybe.

 

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