Wednesday, June 06, 2007

So Where Are We Now?

Apparently, "we" (in the royal sense) are getting it back together. As in we are finally getting back in gear. I really didn't realize how out of gear I was until I started trying to move forward again. I'm finally meeting my work commitments. I'm finally starting to exercise again. I'm finally not drinking nearly as much wine as I was.

Oh, yes. The wine. Well, I'm not worried about that. My therapist said.... Hmmmm. I guess I had better explain that one. About the middle of the last pregnancy (only 6 weeks in!), I started freaking out that things were not going to work out well. So I called a friend who has also had multiple miscarriages and got the name of her therapist, a woman who specializes in infertility. (If you live in the area, email me and I'll share her name) We have been getting along well, and really, after that one freak out, I have "graduated" to seeing her when I feel I need to as opposed to every week or every other hour.

IRONICALLY, the session three days before before the baby died focused on "letting it go" and trusting the pregnancy would be ok and putting it on the back burner while I got on with the rest of my life. Even more ironically is the acupuncture session before the baby died again focused on "letting it go" and believing it would all be ok. I should have pointed out to everyone that the "it" in that phrase referred to my worries and not my baby, eh?

Ironical indeed.

So, anyhoo, at my last session, when my therapist asked how I was doing ("Great! How are you?"), I said that I was enjoying my wine of late. She pointed out that it was ok and that I could consider the wine as medicine and not to worry too much about it. And if I did, we could switch to Xanax. Ironically (again!), after she said that, I stopped drinking as much wine. I'm not sure whether it was simply the permission to drink wine and not feel guilty about it or whether I simply don't need that medicine as much any more. But I'm not drinking wine as medicine any more.

You do know the phrase: "W(h)ine: noun or a verb, you choose" don't you?

Well, now you do.

So I'm doing better. That doesn't mean I don't still miss my baby-to-be. On my drive in to work this morning, I was patting my belly and telling my baby how much I missed her. (No, I don't know it was a girl. I just think so)

But we're moving forward. And part of that move forward is a pretty serious start down the path towards domestic adoption. We had considered international adoption before, but I'm not sure that's the right path for us. So we are now seriously looking at domestic adoption. We're going to a support group meeting next week and we've contacted a consultant and are considering her services.

We feel very lucky about some other events that have happened in our lives recently that I don't want to share here because I don't want to break confidences. (Others don't always want to share intimate details of their lives on this blog, oddly enough) But we have just found some unexpected support in this process that I am so grateful for and shocked by that I stop, drop my jaw, and thank God(dess).

I feel really good that we are on the right path, wherever this path takes us. I am sure it's going to lead to a baby and I'm very excited about that.

Oh! And the skin problem? Excema. It doesn't have anything to do with miscarriages, as far as I can tell. But it does have to do with crappy skin and stress. So it has to do with me. At some point, I have to tell you about this dermatologist I see. I have never met anyone in my life who is so painfully awkward in interpersonal interactions. He is the definition of geek when geek wasn't good. Every time I see him, I want to say "Dude! It's ok. Relax. I'm not going to hurt you." Really. If we could video tape our awkward doctors and compare them, he would win as the more self-concious, uncomfortable doctor in the world.


niobe said...

I'm very glad to hear that you're moving forward in so many different ways.

Piratewench said...

I quit seeing this awkward dentist I had. Talk about poor interpersonal skills. He never made eye contact with me. He always spoke while he was standing behind you in the chair. I would twist and contort my body just to turn around and try to look at him while he was talking and he still didn't get it. So when my husband had the same experience, we both quit going to him. Weirdo.