GingerBaby

Your average, all-around human being just trying to make sense of the world.

[gingerbaby79]

New Mom Life Lesson #1

I have 5 literal minutes to type this before the next round of feeding/burping/diaper changing/inevitable crying starts, so this is as close as I can get to describing what the first month with a newborn has been like:

New mom life lesson #1: BE CONFIDENT

[gingerbaby79]

The Mother of All Days

For the past few years on Mother's Day, I've posted this . And I would post it again this year because I feel the same way except for one thing: This year I am 7 months pregnant.

So this year I will write something different because this year I am experiencing Mother's Day differently. After living through nearly a decade of infertility, this pregnancy has shown me one thing that I always suspected was true: Our culture treats childless women VERY differently than women who can or have had children.

In my experience, women who don't - or can't - have children are mainly dealt with in silence. There are probably a few reasons for this. The polite reason is not wanting to upset or offend someone by asking about it. And then there's the narrow-minded reason of feeling uneasy around a woman who can't - or won't - fulfill her biological obligation. (It seems strange that infertility or a woman choosing not to have children would cause people unease, but trust me, people, it does.)  But, by-and-large, silence and isolation is how our society deals with the childless woman. I became very used to that reality, and as a private person, I was more comfortable with being somewhat invisible in public.

Not so with pregnant women and mothers. Much to my dismay, the pregnant woman is commonly regarded as public property. People I have never met ask me all kinds of personal questions related to this pregnancy. They sometimes feel like my body is open for them to touch, and they offer many, varied, unsolicited comments about what my life is going to be like or what my husband and I should be thinking about or how we should be preparing. Some of it is well-meaning. Most of it is none of anyone's goddamned business.

But it's the level of public acceptance that is truly eye-opening for me. And on Mother's Day, our culture celebrates those who are accepted.

Even in our 21st century society, culture and human nature separates women into two categories: Those who can gestate a living human being, and those who can't (or don't want to). 

Admittedly, women have it MUCH better now than in, say, 1540 when "barren" women could be discarded or MURDERED for their inability to conceive or carry a child (or, the RIGHT child) to term. And while we've come a long way since the middle ages, the stigma of the childless woman as a less-than-woman exists even in 2017. And while I don't personally know what it's like to be a woman who doesn't want to have children, there seems to be a special level of cultural disgust and willful misunderstanding reserved for women who choose to live their lives on their own terms.

Whether you're childless by choice or by chance, Mother's Day can be a difficult day to navigate because the very thing that separates you from acceptance in society is in your face every day for about a week leading up to the actual celebratory day. From commercials for jewelry, diapers, cards, flowers, cars, or furniture to news shows with segments highlighting all the possible ways to honor the moms out there, Mother's Day ends up being more like a mother fucking week. As if the outsider childless woman needs more reminders of how she doesn't fit into what is expected of her. Trust us, it's there nearly every day all year long. The week-long parade to Mother's Day is just salt in the constantly re-opening wound.

Because what Mother's day is really about is love and the giving of yourself to the people and things you care about, and we all do that in different ways for different things.

In my former job as a middle school teacher and then school counselor, I was a mother to hundreds of children every day. I am a mother to my 7 nieces and nephews, and I am a mother to my 12 year-old beagle mix because I give of myself to make their lives better. My time, my money, my empathy, my wisdom, my patience, and my whole-hearted investment of my entire being.

So if you don't really like kids or you just don't want to have kids - you're no less of a woman, and you are still a mother - to your pets, to friends who need a shoulder to cry on or someone to get drunk and silly with, to friends kids who just think you're cool and need other female women to look up to and learn from.

And if you desperately want children, but your body just won't let you have your own - I feel you - and you are no less of a woman and you are still a mother to someone (and - if you're like me - probably many someones) though our culture can make it feel like you aren't. You are noticed, you are honored, and you are accepted.

So on this Mother's Day, let's celebrate motherhood in EVERY form: aunts and cool friend-aunts whose only job is to have fun with kids, sugar them up, and then leave the melt downs for the parents. Teachers who spend their entire day knee-deep in 25+ children they did NOT give birth to but love them like they had. The neighborly older women who just loves having the neighbor kids stop in and say hi and give them treats, and treats them like her own grandchildren. The friend who drops everything when you need her and shows up with wine and ice cream no questions asked. The dog mom (or cat mom or whatever animal mom) whose love for her four-footed soulmate flows from her just as strongly as a to a human child. It's all motherhood.

Because motherhood isn't just about giving birth to your own, biological child. It's about giving to the people you love. It's about the sacrificial love that's required when you care for anything beyond yourself. Because that's what mothers do. That's what ALL women do.

[gingerbaby79]

The Hole in the Sidewalk (or) Carrying Mountains

I stumbled upon this a few days ago:

... and I have been thinking about it every day since.

I'm a pretty stubborn person - a gift I inherited from and saw modeled on both sides of my family. While I can usually be really objective and rational while seeing someone else's experience, it's taken me longer than I'd like to admit to see my own habits and behavioral patterns as objectively. But SEEING my own habits and being about to DO something about my own habits are two very different things. Thanks, Ego.

It took me TEN YEARS to stop falling into the pit of despair of forcing my will onto a body that just wasn't able to give me what I wanted. Ten years to learn to accept what was right in front of me with gratitude. Ten years of doing the same, emotionally toxic things over and over again and expecting that this NEXT time would work. I would say it wasn't until around year 7 (did I mention that I'm stubborn?) that I could objectively see that how I was handling things was not healthy, but it took me an additional 3 years to change my actual behavior. I look back at that person and I just want to reach down into that pit,  gently place my hands on her shoulders and say, It's okay that life isn't fair. It's unfair for everyone. You are not special, but you do have power over what your life becomes.

The number of times that I repeated step number 2 - falling into the hole and lashing out because I didn't see that I was in a hole of my own making - now makes me shake my head. Not in shame, but in recognition.

Because the metaphorical hole hasn't disappeared. It will always exist, and there are days where I walk to the edge to look into its depths. That hole that held me in the dark for so many years is a lonely but familiar place, and there are moments when my ego wants to jump back in because sometimes it feels good to wallow and blame. But I don't jump. Now I choose to see that place and name it, and now I choose to take a different path because I know what lies at the bottom of that pit and there is nothing more I can learn in that place.

There are other holes in the sidewalks I walk down. There are paths I haven't walked yet that will have their own pitfalls that I have not anticipated, and I will fall in. But my eyes will be open, and I will know where I am, and I will climb out and choose a different path.

[gingerbaby79]

Pregnancy Guilt

Pregnancy Guilt* (n.): a mental condition that occurs when a woman who previously experienced infertility becomes pregnant and perceives her new state to be possibly upsetting to other women who want to have children.

(*This is not a real term, but maybe it should be. I made it up because it's how I feel)

Although it was years ago, I can remember many moments of ducking out of pregnancy announcement conversations to find bathroom or a quiet, secluded spot where I could cry quietly for a few minutes and then compose myself and return to normal life as if nothing had happened. At restaurants, at work, on the Maid of the Mist in Niagara Falls, you name it, I've cried there.

And then a few weeks ago, after we'd made the news of our pregnancy public, an old co-worker of mine called me to congratulate me, but also to ask how it happened, if we'd been "trying", or doing fertility treatments, etc. (see #3 below). She and I had worked together for over a decade, and we would talk often about the struggles in trying to have children. She's currently in an infertility spiral of desperation similar to where I was 6 or so years ago, and I knew that my news would be emotional for her. In fact, I was really nervous for her to find out. I have more than a few friends with whom I was reticent to share my news because I know how hard it is to be on the receiving end of this type of announcement.

For those of you who don't understand why a pregnancy announcement would be anything other than joyful, let me explain some of the reasons why it can be so difficult for some women (and some men, I assume):

1. You know you're supposed to be happy for them - And you are. Kind of. But you're also not. You're sad and angry and confused about why it's happening for other people but not for you. So then you feel doubly bad because you feel like a jerk if you're not really happy for them.

2. It gives you hope - On the surface, this sounds like a good thing. And hope IS a good thing, generally speaking, but it's also a double-edged sword because the rise of hope makes the piercing desperation of failure that much more acute.

3. It's unfair - Nothing about infertility or fertility is fair. Why my sister could pop out 4 kids no problem, why it seemed like everyone around me just had to decide to have children and it happened while we struggled for YEARS with nothing to show for it ISN'T FAIR.

So while I am euphorically and distractedly running my hands around this alien form taking over my mid-section, I am also painfully cognizant of the fact that this whole situation is decidedly UNFAIR. There is NO REASON why this should happen for us and not for someone else, and there is a modicum of guilt about that fact that I carry along with me, especially when I'm in public.

Because I am hyper aware that my ever-growing belly is a source of pain and resentment for many women. Years ago, just seeing a pregnant women would sometimes send me into a tailspin of despair and depression. Seeing women with newborns wrapped so snugly against their chests was like laying your hand on an oven burner you didn't know was on. If it weren't weird, I would hang a sign around my neck throughout this pregnancy that said:

Sadly, that sign does not exist and also it would be annoying to wear it around my neck all the time.

The years I spent nearly drowning in the waters of infertility have given me a different perspective on life and womanhood and family, and that I carry that perspective into this pregnancy. As is often true in life, one person's joy will most likely contribute to someone else's pain and I am living with a foot firmly planted in both of those realities. My only hope is that my past experiences can help me to be a more compassionate person as I move through the ever-changing terrain of my life.

[gingerbaby79]

I can't believe I'm saying this, but...

Years ago, when we were trying (and failing) to get pregnant, I would daydream about how I would surprise Dan with pregnancy news if that cursed plastic pee stick would ever have been positive (Spoiler Alert: it wasn't).

Like a prenatal prom-posal, I would plan something cutesy and (maybe) elaborate that would surprise him with the news that he was going to be a dad. He would cry and I would cry and we would dance in the kitchen and marvel at how magical life is. Of course that never happened because we never actually succeeded in conceiving a child.

But here's something that actually happened.

On many a Wednesday night, you'll find me at my parent's house for a big family dinner. My siblings and all their kids and all our dogs gather at my parents' house and we drink, eat and tease each other mercilessly. On this particular Wednesday evening, I was knee-deep in nieces and nephews and Dan was at home working on a commission he'd gotten. During dinner, I get a phone call from my doctor about some blood test results that I'd been anxiously awaiting. Saying nothing to anyone, I finish dinner, hang out with the nieces and nephews a bit, and then head home.

As I walk in the door to our kitchen, Dan comes to give me a hug and say hi - because he's sweet and thoughtful and loving, and I look him dead in the eyes and say with an intensity usually reserved for divorce or death, We need to talk.

In my defense, zero forethought went into my method of starting this conversation. Dan blanched, and his face dropped, and I say Seriously, you need to sit down. I know, I have zero chill.

Sitting in our living room that night, I looked my husband of thirteen years in the eyes as I tell him the news.

Now, I've written on here about how we'd tried for nearly a decade to have children and then how after my cancer diagnosis almost five years ago we decided to just be happy with the life we have? Yeah, well.... plot twist.

I'm pregnant. About 5 months pregnant, actually.

We don't know how this happened. I mean, we know how this happened, obviously. But we weren't like, as couples say to discreetly indicate they're banging on schedule, trying. So, like, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? How do you desperately do everything humanly and medically possible for almost ten years and come up empty-handed and then, out of nowhere, you pee on a stick (and then demand several follow-up blood tests to confirm) and it's positive. (The actual story behind how we found out we are expecting is longer and you can read it in the post called What. Is. HAPPENING?)

So. That's our news. And it's also why I haven't posted anything on here in months. This is literally ALL I've been thinking and writing about since around Thanksgiving, and we're only just now getting comfortable with making this news public. So...sorry, but you guys are the last to know. And the amount of anxiety I have over posting this is bonkers.

[gingerbaby79]

What. Is. HAPPENING?

November 29

So long story short, my cycle this month has been ...off. Without boring anyone with too many details, I am now faced with a choice: wait this out for another month and see what happens, or take a pregnancy test.

My history with pregnancy tests is decidedly NOT GOOD. For the 7+ years we were trying to have kids, pregnancy tests were my kryptonite. All month would build up with "maybe this time" thoughts and hopes, only to be crushed by that definitive negative symbol on that cursed white plastic stick.

So yesterday when I talked with my doctor on the phone to discuss my current symptoms (that I was SURE were signs of endometrial cancer) and she suggested that I take a pregnancy test, I panicked. She's going the logical, medical route. Are you using any contraceptives? Haha...that's hilarious and of course not because why would we? Almost ten years of specialists and medication and surgeries and injections never produced a positive pregnancy test. So, you can understand why my thoughts go to a more... negative outcome: endometrial cancer.

It wouldn't be that far-fetched an idea. As I said to my doctor, my track record for a "normal" outcomes of medical issues is not great. My first mammogram resulted in breast cancer, surgeries and radiation. Plus I have a lot of the risk factors for endometrial cancer. While I had considered the possibility of pregnancy, I also ruled it out because cancer just seems more likely.

I know, that sounds really defeatist and probably overly dramatic, but I promise you it's not. If you knew all the details of my medical history, you'd be like, yeah, she's not crazy, she's just being completely logical based on past events. I promise that's exactly what you would think.

So while taking a pregnancy test seems like no big deal to you, it's a huge deal to me. I've found peace in the last 4 or so years in the life my husband and I have made. And it took me a LONG time to get to where I am now, accepting life as it is and not as I wish it would be. That pregnancy test would be like dipping a toe back into the ocean of despair I nearly drown in.

Update 12/2/16

I took the pregnancy tests. Both were positive. And then, because I couldn't believe the result, I asked for a blood test. Also positive. So later this morning I will go for a second blood test to see if the hormone levels are increasing (meaning this might actually be a real thing), or if they're dropping and I'll have a miscarriage (which, to be honest, is the result I'm banking on because this whole thing cannot possibly be real.)

What a mindfuck. I didn't tell Dan until after the second blood test results came back. I didn't see the point since I was (and still am) sure this is going to end in nothing. I mean, there's a tiny part of me that runs ahead planning for what might be an actual pregnancy and child, but it's a very small part and I have to keep telling it to SHUT UP BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A GOOD TRACK RECORD WITH THINGS GOING NORMALLY, ESPECIALLY IN THE REPRODUCTIVE DEPARTMENT. I call her Linda, that annoyingly fake-positive voice that keeps imagining scenarios in which I get to tell my family that I'm pregnant SHUT UP LINDA, NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR YOUR INNANE STORIES THAT NEVER HAPPENED. God, Linda's the worst.

12/5/16

The third blood test showed more elevated Hcg levels so it looks like this is going to be a thing for awhile. Stopping some medications and getting on a more folic acid-friendly vitamin.

No more wine, I guess. And how I'll keep family from asking questions about that remains to be seen.

Dan and I are still reeling from this. None of it seems real, and we're both of the mindset that we shouldn't get excited about anything because we're both waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know, the one where everything goes to shit. We're waiting for it because that's always been our experience in these kinds of things. Want to have kids? Try for 7 years with no success and find out you have multiple reproductive disorders. Find a lump in your breast? It's probably a cyst since you have no family history of breast cancer and you're young. Nope, it's cancer.

So we're waiting for this to be another in a long line of disappointments. If it doesn't turn out that way, it will be a miracle.

Still actively stuffing a sock in Linda's face hole when she pipes up too much about the possibilities and exciting nature of this.

12/10/16

Thursday we had an ultrasound. There is an actual...zygote? Embryo? Whatever. There was even a flicker of a heartbeat. It was surreal and not something I thought I'd ever experience in my life. I sobbed while the technician had the ultrasound wand shoved up my vagina, which I'm sure she appreciated. Then we (just me and Dan, not the ultrasound lady) went out to dinner to celebrate because, even if this all goes to shit, we had this one moment of joy and wonder that we never thought we'd have.

I'm just over 6 weeks according to the ultrasound, although the date of my last period would put me closer to 7. I probably ovulated late. I'm amazed that I ovulated at all.

It's really hard to contain my anticipation. Despite my better judgement, I signed up for the BabyCenter app thing. Every time I do or think anything that assumes I will have this baby, I immediately feel anxious because I feel like I'm tempting fate to rip the rug out from under us.

For now it's just waiting and hoping. More blood tests and ultrasounds next week.

12/14/16

I keep having dreams where I'm bleeding, which of course is because I'm afraid of miscarriage.

All my blood tests come back normal. So far things seem "fine", but because everything is happening in the dark and there's no way to know, without medical intervention, whether things are progressing well. My ultrasound came back "normal" except I apparently have a uterine fibroid (not great) and some kind of fancy-worded bleed (also not great).

The baby's heart beat was within the normal range, although we didn't get to hear it, and it's at least in the right place (the uterus) and not ectopic or something.

I haven't actually bled at all since what they think was the implantation bleeding, so i guess that's good news. I just keep expecting it to all go to shit at any second. Which, in my experience, is completely possible.

I have to remain hopeful. Being stressed about it definitely doesn't help anything, so I'll keep trying to distract myself so I don't think about it too much.

12/15/16

Today I'm 7 weeks...I think. I have another ultrasound scheduled for this coming Monday, which hopefully will help me to feel more ...secure about things.

I keep thinking about what it would be like to be one of those women for whom pregnancy is just a fact of life. Women who just assume things will work out. I wonder if my sister was like that. She seemed that way. She had 4 kids no problem, and I wonder if people like her worry about everything going wrong of if they kind of just expect things to be normal because that's always been their experience.

The years of trying and failing month after month after month, and the breast cancer diagnosis, just ingrained in me that things just generally don't work out well for me. And while I know that's not, strictly speaking, true because I've also had many, many really lovely and good things happen in my life, I've learned to expect the worst.

12/27/16

It's our 13th anniversary today. We've been together for 15 years, married for 13, and just about 9 weeks pregnant. Assuming everything is progressing as normal in there, I would be due at the beginning of August 2017. I'll be almost 38.

I'll be starting progesterone today so that hopefully increases the chances of things going well and this whole thing actually running its course and increasing our family by one.

It's been a long time since I've trusted my body to do anything normally, so it's exceptionally hard for me to imagine that anything about this pregnancy might be viable. Even though I've had multiple blood tests, two ultrasounds, and no negative physical signs that things are taking a bad turn, I still don't really trust that my body is capable of incubating an actual, live, normal human being.

We told my parents and family on Christmas. I was planning to wait until the end of the 1st trimester since the odds of miscarriage decrease around week 13, but since I see my family so often, and since my mom wanted to play flag football on Christmas day, I realized that I wouldn't be able to keep it secret for much longer. Although the logical conclusion for my being super moody and bitchy and not drinking probably wouldn't be that I'm pregnant. They'd probably just have thought that super-bitch mode had clicked into gear and they'd just have to wait it out.

It was super fun to tell them though. In the last 10 years I've never really been able to share good news with them - just a slew of debbie downers of infertility and cancer. So being able to surprise them with something genuinely joyful was a fun experience. Even if none of this works out, it was still fun to share this one happy event with them.

It becomes increasingly difficult to keep Linda quiet. I find myself thinking about names, looking at cribs and baby carriers online, and imagining a life where we have an actual child that is half me and half him. Years ago I would daydream about these things with such desperation, but it's been a few years since I let those dreams go and focused on accepting the life we have and learned to be at peace with our quiet little family.

The reality is that anything could go wrong at any moment. We're hyper-aware of that fact, and it makes it hard to get too attached to the joy of what is happening. Experience has taught us that we need to proceed with caution, and I don't know at what point we'll be able to relax and enjoy this miracle. I'm trying to. I'm trying to just live in the present moment, being thankful for even just this part of what is happening - not counting on it continuing and not banking my happiness in everything working out.

12/28/16

I can sleep like a boss lately. Easily 10-12 hours a night, sometimes with a nap in the middle of the day. It's nice that I can. Not having to wake up at 5am every day has been one of my favorite parts of not working in a school anymore. Thank you god that the book shop doesn't open till 10am and I usually work in the afternoon anyway.

Dan crawled back into bed with me this morning around 8am to snuggle. God I love him. At some point I rolled to face him and said, if this does end with an actual baby, I think we should name it Murtaugh because we're too old for this shit. Funny and true.

I started taking progesterone last night, which hopefully will be a safety measure in keeping this pregnancy going. I really don't like this phase of being pregnant but not looking pregnant and not being able to feel anything happening inside me. Other than fatigue and nausea, there is no way to tell if anything is progressing in there, or if everything has stopped. If I could have an ultrasound twice a week, I would - just to appease my anxiety.

Because is the heart still beating strong? Who knows. Is my body actually doing what it's supposed to to support this little life? I DON'T KNOW. I have to believe that it is, but my body and I don't have the best track record. We have trust issues, to put it mildly.

Dan's busting ass around the house. It's like his nesting instinct has kicked in and he's moving furniture, clearing out closets, painting rooms... whereas I mainly nap and eat throughout the day. It doesn't feel quite fair not to help out, but the no lifting, no paint fumes makes it difficult to be of an real help.

12/29/16

I slept for 11 hours last night. And now it's 2:00pm and I feel like I could take a nap. Lately I have two main moods: Hungry and Tired. Sometimes alternating, but usually both at the same time. Tired also comes with his buddy Nausea, and they hang out with me quite a bit. The Bonnie and Clyde of this pregnancy, Tired and Nausea show up without warning and hold me up, guns blazing.

I'm not complaining. For years I would have given anything to feel as crappy as I do right now. I take it all as a good sign that I'm still actually pregnant. I actually start freaking out in the rare moments that I feel kind of normal.

One of the most annoying things about the last few months has been my stupid foggy brain. Simple things take me forever to decipher or explain, I have to be told things repeatedly and I can't remember things as clearly as I normally do. I understand it's a normal part of all this... pregnancy brain or whatever... but it's definitely one of the more frustrating effects.

12/30/16

It's almost New Year's - a holiday that's always seemed arbitrary and somewhat pointless to me, probably because I don't enjoy parties.

Years ago, when we were trying in fultility to have children, I would usually be glad to say goodbye to the passing year with all its failed pregnancy attempts, failed medical interventions, and months of the hope/depair cycle. And At some point on New Year's Eve, I would think to myself, maybe this NEXT year will be our year. It never was, at least not in the way I wanted it to be. But the truth was that EVERY year was our year; I just couldn't see it that way for a long, long time.

1/7/17

The dreams where I'm bleeding persist. I wake up sure that the dream was part truth and that miscarriage has begun, but nope, it's just my crazy brain living out my worst fears while I'm asleep. I guess we can rule out the possibility that I'm a prophetic dreamer.

I'm just over 10 weeks now. Our first OB appointment is this coming week. I'm nervous for it although I have no real reason to be. It's just that, in my experience, specialists are usually the ones to tell the really bad news. I've never gone to a medical specialist and heard "good" news. And I've been to a lot of specialists over the years.

I keep checking myself in the mirror to see if I look like I'm getting increasingly pregnant. I mostly just feel bloated, so chances are it's just gas.

1/9/17

It's been a strange day. I'm emotionally off-kilter, which accounts for the fact that I am sure that I'm not pregnant anymore. There is no factual basis for this feeling - I just believe that it has to be true. I think it's mainly because I'm terrified of our first OB appointment this Friday. I'm sure we're going to go in there and get devastating news - no heartbeat - and then ....

and then suffer the humiliation of failing at this as well. 

And it would be humiliating. After having been so joyful in the miracle of all this, it would be a really difficult blow. It would be just another in a long list of failures that prove to me that life can be cruel and that I cannot trust my own body. Having to face my family and friends and tell them that, no, actually, this isn't going to be a thing, would be humiliating. 

I am well practiced in the art of humiliation. I wear it like Hester Prynne wore her shameful letter. My letter is not visible, however, but it is burned into my soul for the remainder of my life, no matter what the outcome of this pregnancy is. My scars remind me to be humble because no matter what I want - no matter what I think should happen - what will be will be. And my desires have absolutely nothing to do with it.  

But for all its pain and public shame, humiliation teaches humility. And I have been humbled more than many that I know, but I am grateful for those lessons, and that is how I know that no matter what happens, I will eventually be okay. WE will eventually be okay. Because we can survive anything. 

But I am still terrified for Friday. 

1/10/17

I need to spend time in contemplative meditation, focusing on the life that (I hope) is still growing inside me. I have to believe that this miracle is possible because I'm sure that the negative thought patterns and stress aren't going to be helpful to anyone and they run like background noise in my subconscious all day. 

This inner conflict is exhausting, and as an Enneagram 9 it's my main weakness. I'm trying to maintain some semblance of inner peace, but it's really difficult when there is such emotional and mental upheaval. I think I have to actively cultivate and focus on what peace I can find or make, believing that there is still a chance that this will all work out.

1/16/17

The OB appointment went fine. The doctor is really good. Really kind. She used the sonogram (?) to find the heartbeat, which Dan said he could hear, but all I could hear was a flurry of thumping that was hard to distinguish. I think it was mostly just my own heart beating.

I have to go to another specialist since I'm of "advanced maternal age" (what a flattering term). We have that appointment tomorrow, morning and then an ultrasound in the afternoon. Part of that appointment will be genetic testing which we've decided to do since we'd rather know what's coming and be able to prepare for it.

1/18/17

It's starting to get exciting. We had two appointments yesterday. The first one was for genetic testing (all they had do is take my blood). That should tell is more definitively if things are normal or if there's any kind of developmental disorder (Downs, etc). Even though none of the disorders appear to run in our families, these tests will also tell if either of us is a carrier, which would make it possible for any child of ours to have serious genetic disorder. It will also tell us the gender, so we'll know in about two weeks if we're having a boy or girl. Yikes.

Then, in the afternoon, we had an ultrasound and there is an actual baby in there. We saw its little legs kicking and its jaw moving and we heard the heart beat. I don't know if everyone feels this way, but they didn't play the heart beat long enough. I could listen to it all day.

Also, it turns out that I'm a bit farther along than we previously thought and my due date is July 31st (Harry Potter's birthday!), so I'll be 13 weeks this Friday which means I'm nearly into the second trimester! I truly can't believe that we've made it this far. Just typing that feels a little like I'm tempting fate.

1/21/17

I'm currently sobbing because I decided (for the first time since we found out I'm pregnant) to get on Pinterest and look at baby nursery ideas. Specifically Harry Potter themed ideas. And now I'm sobbing because I can't believe this is real and because the first time I read Harry Potter was when I was 32 and undergoing cancer treatment after we'd tried unsuccessfully for years to have children.

And now I'm 37 and I'm crying uncontrollably because the wisdom in the Harry Potter books helped me through one of my darkest times and is now part of one of the most joyful times of my life and I CAN'T HANDLE IT RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I'M HORMONAL.

Also, at our last appointment, our due date was solidified as July 31st. You know who else had a birthday on July 31st??? HARRY f-ing POTTER. This has to be a sign that this kid is going to be a wizard....or that I'M a witch. Please god let me be a witch.

1/25/17

I got a glucometer and have to check my blood sugar 4 times a day to see if I should keep taking the meds for PCOS that I've been taking, and I only just realized this morning that I shouldn't be pricking fingers on my left hand to get blood because of my lymphedema risk on my left side. Duh... I KNOW this information; I've lived with this knowledge for over 4 years and yet and it took me 3 days of taking blood from my left hand to remember it. This baby is really using up a lot of my brain cells.

2/21/17

So far, so good. Despite my irrational fears, everything is progressing normally. I have literally never said that phrase in reference to myself.

Also, I'll share a problem I'm having here. I really don't like all the attention I'm getting with this pregnancy. I mean, I guess it's great if you're the kind of person who likes being the center of attention, but I've never liked other people focusing on me and asking me questions and wanting to know things. I'm more of a background-type. Just let me quietly go about my business and I'll share stuff when I'm ready. It's just so much... pressure.

I mean, yes, this is happy news. Yes we're excited. But we're also always teetering on the edge of terrified. And not because we're scared of becoming parents (well, not only because of that). No, we're just too familiar with how quickly things can go wrong, and so while we're pissing our pants with excitement for something we never thought we'd have, we're also pissing our pants because we're half expecting the rug to be pulled out from underneath us at any moment. (In this instance, pissing your pants indicates both joy and fear.)

[gingerbaby79]

Smart Feminist: The one where I get involved in a fight with two teenagers

It was 7:30 in the morning on a Thursday (today, actually, if you're reading this today), and all I could hear coming from outside was screaming. Now, we live in a quiet little neighborhood. Most of my neighbors are older and retired and nothing much really happens around here.

So when the yelling grew louder and more aggressive, I finally got up and looked out our front window.

Across the street, our neighbor's older daughter (who is about 16, I think) and her boyfriend (also around 16) were in a very loud, very heated fight. He had his truck parked behind her car (which was in the garage, running), so she couldn't leave. She was inside the car, and he was outside the driver's door yelling and screaming and she was screaming back. He did or didn't do something and she didn't want to talk about it. At least that's what I gathered from hearing the screams through my closed windows.

It was escalating rather quickly, so for some reason, while normally I'm happy to completely ignore what my neighbors are doing, I started recording them. He was pounding on the car, and he leaned in through the door window to scream more at her, and I honestly thought things might make a really bad turn, so I started recording. I took six minutes of escalating fighting: he opened her car door, she got out, the screaming got louder and I could see them moving around and then he shut the garage door.

That's when I decided that something had to be done.

I got my coat and shoes and went over and banged on the garage door. I was recording (although it my phone didn't save it) when the garage door opened and the boyfriend made rude comments about me being there and recording him (which, to be honest, was for my own safety).

He was mad, pacing around questioning me and what I thought he was going to do that would make me think I needed to record him. I repeatedly told him that I don't care about their fight, and that all of this is none of my business, but she's my neighbor and I know what it's like to be a teenage girl, and she seemed scared and really upset and her parent's weren't home, so I needed to come over to make sure she was okay.

He had lots of great comebacks. Like "Oh, you think I'm going to abuse her?" I don't know man, but it was getting pretty heated - I could hear the screaming across the street through my closed windows. "Just because she's the girl you think that I'm the one who would hit her." Again, I don't know you, but I also don't think you know what it's like to be a girl in an argument with a larger man. At that point he pegged me for a feminist (nailed it) and he said some ridiculous, albeit typical, things about women like me. I worked very hard to keep my tone calm (and honestly, at some points, to keep from laughing at this kid's logic)

because he's a larger teenage guy, and I'm a relatively small woman, and if there's one thing I know men hate, it's being lectured and/or laughed at by a woman with thoughts and opinions.

Like when I made the observation that it wasn't a great idea to close the garage door with a running car inside, his response was "Why, where's the running car going to go?" So I clarified that the car running away wasn't my point, but the carbon monoxide in an enclosed space was. He didn't have a response to that. I mean, what do I know? I'm just a woman.

After a few minutes of he and I talking back and forth, he'd calmed down a little, and it came to light that the girl's car, while running, was also locked and she didn't have any spare keys. Great.

He (more calmly) berated her for basically being stupid and locking her stuff in the car, and I didn't feel like it was the appropriate time to point out that his explosive screaming into her face probably didn't help her think too straight.

I kept trying to get him to leave by assuring him that I would help the girl get her car unlocked, and that it would be helpful if he would go to school and let them know that he (and she) are late because she locked her keys in her car (Woman trick - expert level: Never imply that the angry man is at fault in any way. Find a way to make him the "savior" of the situation instead of part of the problem - he'll be more agreeable to that perspective). My suggestion didn't work; he was still pissed at me for not minding my own business which, I mean, he had a point. He kept saying that if I would just have left them alone, they would have resolved things.

But because he's a larger teen guy, and because I'm a relatively small woman, I just agreed with him. Woman trick: Agreeing with angry men, no matter what you really think, no matter how absolutely asinine their assertions are, calms them down. So then I used my calmest, most deferential tone to include that I don't know him, and he seems like a good kid, but I've been married a long time, and one thing I've learned is that disagreements don't get "solved" when both people are in such a heightened emotional state. He seemed to hear that because he calmed a little more and he started talking to me more like a person and less like an evil witch out to emasculate him.

So now I'm standing in my neighbor's garage with two teenagers I don't really know who'd just been in an epic fight, and the boyfriend is trying all these completely ridiculous ways to get the car door unlocked.

Try number one: He took HIS car keys and put them in the lock on the door as if that would help.

Try number two: No metal hangers to be found, so he took the metal top hook of a wooden hanger, just the hook part whose total length was about two inches and tried to jam it into the door. No dice.

Tries number 3-8: A screwdriver, a cloth ratchett strap with hook on the end that just ended up hanging straight down since he had no way to actually hook it to the lock mechanism,  asking me repeatedly if I had a "slim jim" (which of course I don't and even if I did I wasn't going to leave him there with her to go get it), ratchett strap plus screwdriver, a ripped up cardboard box of a microwave mac&cheese that he tried to shove in the crack of the door...? I didn't get the logic of any of these. It's probably just my silly female brain not understanding general mechanics.

Somewhere in the midst of the worst MacGyvering I've ever seen, I asked the girl if she wanted me to stay, or if she was okay now. Because she wouldn't give an actual yes or no answer, just a non-committal shrug, I decided that I should stay as she still seemed shaken. Which was great, because I love spending mornings in an open garage on a -10 degree blustery day with two teenagers I don't really know who were just at each other's throats. It's the most magical time of the year.

Also, because he's a larger teenage boy, and because I'm a relatively small woman, I made sure I never had my back turned to him while he was rummaging around in the garage for (usually) large, metal tools. For those of you reading this who are of the male persuasion, I need to make sure you understand that just because I was the adult in this situation, I was (and still am) also a woman. Which means that because of my lifelong interactions with bigger, stronger, often angrier men, I have a heightened sense of awareness of maintaining my safety in what, to any average man, might seem like a relatively harmless situation.

Probably about 10-15 minutes into the multiple failed attempts to unlock the door, I suggested that we try AAA, to which he replied "No, that will just drain her insurance" (which it doesn't - and drain?), but again, I didn't feel like this was the appropriate time to argue the finer points of car insurance and roadside assistance). My feeble woman brain just can't grasp these complex ideas.

A few minutes later, I asked the girl if she minds if I call a locksmith, to which she shrugged, so I took that as a yes and I went ahead and called.

Twenty minutes of awkward silence and $70 later, I'm finally back at home and they drove off (separately) to school. 

To his credit, the kid did calm down. He seemed to understand my reasoning. I mean, I don't really know these kids, and teenagers aren't really playing with a full deck, if you know what I mean, so I can't assume that this instance is indicative of what their whole relationship is like. But, I mean, it's not a good sign. Also, the girl was screaming at him too, so whatever was going on was not one-sided; however, I will say two things:

1. He's bigger than she is. He's bigger than I am. While it's not a definitive factor in figuring out who is stronger, it's surely part of the equation. As women, we are very acutely aware that men can physically overpower us, and so any time men use their size to intimidate us even in an innocuous way, it's fucking scary and reminds us that we need to tread carefully.

2. He had her trapped. Her parents weren't home. He had her car literally parked in so she couldn't leave. When I went into the garage, he had her backed into a corner. I don't care who's fighting or what it's about, you don't do that to another person. It's a power move. It's disrespectful. And, as a smaller woman, it's scary. (see #1)

Having had a few hours to think about this since it happened this morning, I realize it may have been a rash decision, and maybe I should have just called the police, but I'm glad I did what I did.

However, if I'm being honest, I'm worried about repercussions. I mean, you just never know what's going on in someone else's mind. The whole scenario ended after the locksmith unlocked the car and the two of them were leaving for school. The kid came over, thanked me, and shook my hand. A good sign, I'd like to think (although I think he was thanking me for paying for the locksmith and NOT for my calm intervention and sage advice) . But since I watch too many TV shows like Game of Thrones, The Tudors, and Dexter, I assume a handshake is a sign of treachery and he's plotting my demise. Which would be a bummer.

[gingerbaby79]

The morning after...

For as cynical as I can be about...well, everything, I truly always believed that the core of the country I live is good. That the people are genuinely kind and good and rational and compassionate.

The worst thing about this election is that all of these beliefs are called into question for me. I love our democratic process, and I have respect for good people on all parts of our political spectrum, but what a Trump presidency means is that there is a MAJORITY of people in my community who think that man... that racist, sexist, homophobic, selfish, bigoted, self-important asshole is fit to lead this country.

I am in shock. I feel paralyzed with fear and doubt and sadness because some of my friends and family and neighbors chose this future. And I'm not talking about Republican or Democrat here. I'm talking about a PERSON. Well, two people because Mike Pence might be an even scarier prospect than Trump.

I had moments last night, watching the results come in, where I realized in the midst of my abject horror that I was witnessing history in the making, and now, this morning, I'm experiencing crystallizing moments where I realize that this moment in time is presenting me with a choice: Do I become angry and bitter, suspicious of my neighbors, judging them for their choices, disrespecting their opinions and worldview to the point of dismissing them altogether?

Or do I sit in this discomfort, asking myself what I need to do to heal the relationships in my immediate community and how I can be a voice of compassion and safety?

I believe this election is a harbinger of this generation's civil rights movement, whatever form that will take, and I will be active in it. Because I CHOOSE TO BELIEVE THAT PEOPLE ARE GOOD AND THAT ALL PEOPLE ARE DESERVING OF RESPECT AND FREEDOM.

I will not become cynical and angry. I will become ACTIVE in cultivating a community of acceptance and respect and love and understanding.

And that community starts in my own mind and heart.

 Deep breaths. Let's make history.

[gingerbaby79]

Feminist Nerd

Working the shop a few months ago, four upper-middle-aged white ladies came into the shop laughing and chatting. They were clearly having a fun day together, shopping in a small town. most likely on a bus trip or something. Engaging in polite conversation, they told me they're from Florida, and with their accents, I'm gonna guess they're from the "you're so far North, you're South" part of Florida.

Walking through our non-fiction section, they spotted The Notorious RBG,

a book I (and many others) consider a feminist beacon. Standing in front of the bad-ass book, one of the women made a sound of disgust and uttered what I assume was what she thought was quietly enough that only her compatriot could hear, "Ugh, there are already too many women on the Supreme Court, if you ask me." That is a direct quote, people.

Um...WHAT? There are currently THREE women on the Supreme Court. Out of 9 possible positions (did you know that SCOTUS only has 8 members right now because congress won't let the president nominate the 9th since he's on his way out of office? I mean....christ on a cracker). I've never been good at math, but I believe that's 1/3 of the Supreme Court. Women make up OVER HALF of this country's population, but we are UNDER-REPRESENTED in nearly every way in our own government. The gender split in congress is 80% men and 20% women. Women out number men in NEARLY EVERY STATE (except of course, for Alaska and North Dakota, but anyone whose seen Alaskan Bush People would understand why most women don't want to live there)

Now, everyone on this planet is entitled to think whatever she wants and have her own opinions. But I swear to god it took everything I had to keep my mouth shut while those women were talking. My rational, keep-your-shit-together voice in my head had to keep repeating They're from a different generation and You don't know their stories, Kristin to the voice that sounds more like Luther, Obama's Anger translator. My inner battle always sounds something like this:

I would also like to take this moment to volunteer my services to be Hillary's anger translator for the next 4-8 years. Except, for a woman, we'd have to call it something like The Bitch Pitch or something. Since the worst thing a woman can be is a bitch. (Can you hear my eyes rolling as I type this?)

So tomorrow, when I cast my vote for the FIRST FEMALE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, I will be voting for someone who HAS a vagina and can advocate for those of us who also own vaginas and NOT for some giant pussy who wants to take our country back to the "good ol' days" when a woman's place was in the home and white people could openly discriminate against any minority group.

I just wanted to make that point clear.

Feminist Nerd OUT.

[gingerbaby79]

I love you and we are all connected but I swear to god if you cross me I will crush you and everything you hold dear

First off, an apology. I'm sorry for what I'm about to say because it's Friday and and you're probably pretty psyched about that, but I need to get this feeling out or it will cling to me like B.O. all day.

So, here it is.... I'm perusing Facebook this morning while sipping my morning coffee, as I domost mornings, and up on my feed comes a post from this girl that I CAN'T STAND. I'm not even friends with her (in real life or on Facebook), but I guess we have a mutual friend who commented on a post she'd made, so it popped up on my news feed (damn you, mutual friend).

I shouldn't have read it. As soon as I saw that it was her, my Superego was like, Don't do it...you know it will only make you angry and what's the point of that. And then my Id was like But she's the embodiment of everything I hate about smug, self-important, religious conservatives who feel like they're superior to everyone. It shouldn't have because I'm a relatively mature person, but my Id won out. I shouldn't have read it, but I did. 

And then I shouldn't have clicked to read more comments.

And I DEFINITELY shouldn't have then clicked on her profile to feed the quiet rage that was growing inside me faster than my paralyzing fear of those cold, dead, all-seeing Teddy Ruxpin eyes from my childhood.

But I did all those things. All those clicks. And I can't explain why. I KNEW it would enrage me. But I did it anyway.

This is a girl I've known since I was a child. We went to the same church. I was good friends with her older sister for awhile. Her mom was like a second mom to me for most of my teen years. But this girl? SHE IS THE FUCKING WORST.

She's one of those people who are supremely opinionated and doesn't have the decency to keep her narrow-minded ideas to herself. She's selfish and self-obsessed and arrogant - three traits that make me wish I was part of Fight Club whenever I encounter them in another human being. She is the physical representation of everything that I believe is ruining our communities and our country.

Let me pause for a moment here and say that I am fully aware of how unhinged I sound right now. But, you get it, right? Please, sweet baby Jesus in a burrito, tell me that you sometimes have similar impulses, similar dark thoughts. Otherwise I kind of feel like the lone Arya Stark putting my true feelings out here.

Because I generally think of myself as a kind, compassionate, generous person. But this girl? She just triggers something in my reptilian brain that makes me want to relish being the most vile version of myself possible.

And part of this blog experiment is about me being honest with myself, and, while it causes me anxiety to write these thoughts down and actually publish this, I am going to do it. Because I am both kind and cruel. I am compassionate and selfish. I am no better than any other person, and, if I'm being completely honest with myself, part of me does feel like I'm better than this girl, and the fact that part of me feels that way makes me extraordinarily uncomfortable.

And right now I feel like this is an important point.  This election season has made it abundantly clear to me that I need to get my house in order, so to speak. Allowing my reptilian brain to take over and causing me to Hulk-out does NO GOOD FOR ANYONE. Including myself.

So I write this is a reminder to myself that I am capable of purely venomous thoughts, but if I sit with that uncomfortable conflict long enough, in my discomfort, I see that what I most disrespect in others is in me as well. And that we are all the same.

[gingerbaby79]

Harry Potter and the Rise of the Nerds

Those who know me well know that I'm a huge Harry Potter fan. My oldest niece is (finally) at the age where she's getting into the books (or, I guess you could say that I'm forcing her to read them and love them as much as I do which, thankfully, she does). After she reads each book, we get together to watch the movie and nerd-out together. She's going to be Hermione for Halloween this year because she's friggin' cool and not to be messed with.

So, obviously, last weekend I took my niece with me to the Harry Potter Festival in Chestnut Hill, PA. We went because:

A.) The Harry Potter fandom is out. of. control. AND... B.) I wanted her to experience how fun it is to be a nerd about things she loves and know that are many more people than she might think who feel the same way.

I never really had that when I was a kid. I didn't know many other kids who knew all the lines to The Princess Bride, Monty Python's Holy Grail or Life of Brian, Newsies, Labyrinth, The Neverending Story, Clue,  etc. I didn't think there were other kids who read as much as I did, for as long as I did. Who got so super excited about things they were interested in that they absolutely had to find out every detail they could about the thing they loved.  And that was pre-internet, people. You had to WORK for it.

I want my nieces and nephews to be comfortable with what they like, to whatever extent they like it. So I let my nerd flag fly in all its glory whenever I can in case they need to see that it's fun to get excited about the things you love, no matter how old you are and no matter what anyone else thinks about it.

We had a magical day (pun intended), and my niece absolutely did NOT want to leave. Truth be told, I would have left hours before she wanted to, but that's just because I'm old and my feet hurt and because the place was BONKERS with people, which is one of my least favorite things in the world. But we stayed the entire day because we were having fun and because she wanted to do and see every. single. thing. And that includes the character impersonators:

We had such a fun day together bonding over our shared love of all things Harry Potter, and we're super excited about seeing Fantastic Beasts when it comes out in a few weeks. I'm already saving money to hopefully take her to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter sometime in the next few years. I can't wait to experience the magic of that place through her eyes. It will be...wait for it.... Ravenclawsome.

Oh, and also? I saw Hank Azaria TWICE that day. It was pretty baller and I geeked out over that almost more than over the festival itself. No pictures though.... He was with what looked like his wife and son (wearing Harry Potter gear, I might add) and I didn't want to interrupt their magical day by fawning over him. (You're welcome, Hank Azaria.)

[gingerbaby79]

The Enneagram: Personality vs. Essence

Calling the Enneagram a personality-typing system would be a misnomer - the same way calling Harry Potter "children's books" is completely inaccurate (and would also earn you, at the very least, a dirty look from me).

Personality indicators often are limited to measuring our behavior - what we do. The Enneagram, however, is a narrative system that focuses on motivation - why we do what we do. I am, on the very popular Myers-Briggs indicator,  an INFP (Introvert, iNtuitive, Feeling, Perceiving). Those descriptors are pretty accurate as far as describing HOW I behave, but they do little to uncover WHY I behave in those ways.

And here is where the Enneagram is extremely useful: the difference between Personality and Essence.

We are not our personalities. Our personalities are made up of the behaviors we've learned in order to help who we really are cope with the stress and trauma of life in a sometimes harsh world. Our personality is made up of coping mechanisms we've learned so that our ego can maintain the feeling of being in control "...because most of our personality is no more than a collection of conditioned reactions, fears, and beliefs and is not our true Self." (35) As we rely on these personality mechanisms more often as we age, we lose touch with our Essence, our real selves, and we begin to think that we ARE our personality. (28)

Essence, however, is who we really are - our true nature. The core of us that was born with a unique ability to experience and interact with the world as only we can. Maybe it was a childhood trauma. Maybe it was a less-than-healthy family dynamic. It doesn't have to be tragic, and but in some way our childhood experiences gave us the message that it's not safe to be who we really are in this world. So we built around us behaviors, actions and reactions, that help us feel more safe, more in control, of experiences that are, by their nature, uncontrollable.

The good news is that our Essence can't be damaged or destroyed. It is still within us, completely intact. We just have to uncover it by digging through the myriad of personality defenses we've put in place to keep it safe and by gradually learning to live more in our Essence than in our Personality.

Sounds easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.

Ugh, of course not. But that's exactly what doing the work of the Enneagram attempts to help us with. If we do the inner work, it will help us become aware of those actions and reactions that do not serve us. "The Enneagram shows us where our personality most 'trips us up'. It highlights both what is possible for us, as well as how self-defeating and unnecessary many of our old reactions and behaviors are." (29) It's how I'm going work on taking this part of my personality:

Adding this:

And turning it into this:

Next post I'll be getting a bit more personal when I write about motivation and behavior... specifically my own. Get ready, nerds. It's gonna get real weird.

 Citations:

Riso, Richard and Don Hudson. (1999). The Wisdom of the Enneagram: The complete guide to psychological and spiritual growth for the nine personality types. NY: Bantam Books.

[gingerbaby79]

The Enneagram - An Introduction

If there is an online personality quiz, no matter how stupid, I will take it. Myers-Briggs? Obviously. (And INFP, in case you were wondering). Which Game of Thrones character are you? (Tyrion) Which X-Men power should you have? (Telekinesis) Which Awkward TV Character are you? (Michael Scott) I could probably find a quiz that would tell me what kind of fruit I would be in an Edible Arrangement.

So of course, in my listening to more than one podcast in which the guests talked about their Enneagram number in relation to their personality, I was intrigued. Obviously, I immediately dove in to researching how I could take the quiz to find out what my number is.

So at this point you're probably wondering Enneagram? Like Pentagram? Is this like... an occult thing? No. It's not. It is, however, an ancient and more holistic way of understanding personality than Myers-Briggs and the like. And sweet christ on a cracker if this thing didn't NAIL me. (That's what she said).

I took the assessment and I'm a 9 - The Peacemaker (or The Mediator...depending on where you're sourcing your information from...different descriptors for the same thing). Anyway, at first I was like What the fuck? I'm a 9? No way. Type 9 seems lame. I thought for sure I was a 5. I was pissed about it for a few days, and then I started actually reading more about type 9 and I actually teared up listening to The Liturgists podcast about the Enneagram types when they started talking about type 9.

Now, I won't pretend here to be an authority on any of this Enneagram stuff. While I did get my master's in counseling, I'm not really the academic type, and I don't care to make myself appear an expert. So if you want to get information from people who actually know what they're talking about, I'll list some resources for you at the bottom of this post.

Instead, my only goal is to take you along on this journey with me as I learn more about the Enneagram and about about myself and myself in relationship to others through the lens of the Enneagram. And since I generally learn things best when I have to synthesize information to explain it to other people, I'll be writing a series on what I'm learning and (hopefully) how it's helping me to become more fully myself in both my internal and external worlds.

Come along for the ride with me! And if you end up finding out your Enneagram number, let me know!

Resources

Websites: Enneagram Worldwide Center for Action and Contemplation The Enneagram Institute

Books (There are quite a few, but these are the ones I own - so far): The Wisdom of the Enneagram by Riso and Hudson The Enneagram: A Christian Perspective by Richard Rohr

Podcasts (Again, there are lots, but these are ones I've listened to): The Road Back to You - Each episode focuses on a type and discusses strengths and weakness of the type.... I highly recommend it. The Liturgists - They reference the Enneagram consistenly on this podcast, but if you want specifics, check out Episode 37

[gingerbaby79]

4 years #cancerfree

[gingerbaby79]

Dungeons and Dragons and Gingerbaby the Gnome

For the first time in my 36 years on this planet I crossed over the threshold of complete Nerd-Dom: Last week, for the first time ever, I played DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS. AND IT WAS GLORIOUS.

It’s never too late in life to start playing D&D

[gingerbaby79]

On Cancer, Time, and Being a Badass

Time is a weird construct, no? The past and future don't really exist except in our minds, and while the present is the only real measure of time we can physically experience, it's so hard to live there. And, if you're like me, you're usually wishing time to speed up to get something over with, or to slow down so you can enjoy something more. And while I know that it's a healthy way to view time, I find it hard to remain focused on the present as much as I want to.

This particular time of year is both a joyful and sad time for me because it was four years ago today that I had my double mastectomy and walked the long road of surgery, recovery, radiation, recovery, another surgery, and another recovery. This time of year my mind often strays to the past, even just briefly, to remind myself how far I've come. I am a different person now than I was four years ago. I'd bet that you are too.

During the year or so of cancer treatment, I wrote a journal online to keep friends and family updated on how things were going. Below I've included two excerpts from the Caring Bridge journal I kept during this time in my life - two snapshots of the same day, one year apart.

Four years ago:

(I was anxious and terrified of the surgery that awaited me and nervous of what the results of the pathology would show because I really didn't want to have radiation or chemotherapy.)

Each day feels a little different for me. Some days I feel pretty "okay" and locked in and focused on what I need to do to be cancer-free and healthy. Other days? Other days I have mini panic attacks and I want to curl into a ball because there is no part of me that wants to go through ANY of what I'm going to have to go through. I'm trying to allow myself time to freak out, but I know that staying in that frame of mind isn't healthy so I try to work my way out of it and re-focus my energy more positively. Right now I'm feeling alright so all of this sounds WAY more rational than I generally feel. Don't worry, I'll get sufficiently irrational soon enough.

Time is quickly passing, and I keep thinking how surreal this all feels. A lot of the time I feel like I will do whatever I have to do to be healthy. At other moments, though, I fall apart. 

I'm trying to look at things in a way that keeps me from having panic attacks: I will be glad when I don't have a giant tumor growing inside me. It's a constant reminder that I have cancer and I will be glad to get rid of it...but I'm not glad that I have to mutilate my body to do it.

I think the anticipation of the surgery will be worse than the long-term effects...or at least I hope so. Either way, all this waiting has sucked.

Three years ago:

(One year post-surgery and post-radiation and I was anticipating a second surgery to replace my tissue expanders with breast implants.)

It's strange. I thought I would feel more...upbeat today than I do. I thought I would feel overwhelmingly happy and celebratory now that it's one year later, but instead I'm feeling a mix of sadness and quiet thankfulness. There is still a big part of me that can't believe this last year actually happened to me. To be truthful about it, I think I haven't really let myself fully grieve yet. There is no time or energy for grieving when you're already physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. And the weirdest part is that, for the past two nights, I've had very vivid , surgery-related nightmares. ...I don't usually have nightmares about anything, and then I have two nights in a row where I have terrifying dreams of being awake during surgery. It's my body's memory of the pain, I think. So much pain.  Some re-centering of my focus and thoughts would be helpful this morning, so I am going to take pleasure in the fact that I am not currently laying in a hospital bed waiting to be taken back to surgery this morning. Nope. This morning, I am going to drink coffee, do some yoga, walk the dog, and be thankful that it is August 14, 2013.

Today, August 14, 2016, is an altogether different day.

Today I will be spending my time driving with my beagle mix to North Carolina to spend two weeks at the beach with my family. Instead of getting ready for surgery and months of recovery, I'm packing bathing suits and books for a relaxing vacation.

The same day, four years apart. I've had many other bad days and lovely days in the years in between, and I've survived them all. So have you. Because we're strong. Stronger than we've ever imagined. We're badasses who survive anything.

So whether the day includes this:

...Or this...

...time marches always forward, no matter what your circumstance. I don't know what is around the corner for me, or for you, but I do know that no matter what it is, we will meet it and learn from it, and grow wiser and stronger because of it.

[gingerbaby79]

Episode 020 - Religion, Fear, and Purpose in Adulthood

In this episode, Dave, our friend from Episode 11, turns the tables on Kristin and makes her answer all the questions!

We talk about the journey of life and how we're reconciling with religion, fear, and purpose in our adult lives.