Friday, July 24, 2015

I'm Just Sort of OK

So, it's been a bit over a year since I wrote this post about my miscarriage.  While I don't want to spend any significant time on this blog talking about it, since that's not really why I write here, it seems like the time is right to make some sort of comment about where I'm at.

Mostly, because I think it is quite obvious some days that I'm just still ... only sort of OK.

I guess I should start by saying ... you know, having a miscarriage is a funny thing.  So many people have no idea how miserable it really is, and how long afterwards you are messed up from the experience.  For example, in the last year, I've had people expect me to be back to normal and wanting to party as early as 2-3 weeks, or even 2-3 months, after.

Let me tell you something.  For most people who have miscarried, their body isn't even back to normal in the first 2 months.  Not that I want to get into the gory details of what all is going on down there, but for me ... yeah.  Let's just keep it simple by saying my doctor didn't even want me swimming in a public pool for 6 weeks.  So you can guess just about how "normal" I was feeling until month 2 ... at least.

Even in the first 6-8 months, things were really hard.  Especially when I started seeing friends and acquaintances who were due about the same time as me start to have their children.  It was so hard to want what they had so badly ... and not be able to have it.  Knowing it had been lost to me.

In the process of trying to recover from my miscarriage in the first 6 months, things got exponentially worse.  I started having issues with my feet that forced me to give up running and limit my exercise.  Even with giving up a good 50% of my weekly physical activities, most mornings the pain was so severe in my feet that I thought I wouldn't be able to get out of bed.  While I've debated for some time if those plantars fasciitis signs were somewhat triggered by my miscarriage induced mini-depression, I do think it was legitimate ... as I've never been one to let things get me down to that extent.  But it was interesting timing.

Of course, this reduction in activity coupled with my desire to offset my depression via caloric intake was a terrific combo.  So, not only did I put on about 10 pounds during the initial stages of my pregnancy, I put on another 5-10 after that.  Yes, for awhile I was making an honest effort to try to fight that gain.  But then things got worse.

Unfortunately, just when I thought I might finally clear through the frustrations of my miscarriage and plantars, I ended up finding out about 4-5 months ago that my father has/had kidney cancer.  During the first rounds of diagnosis, doctors feared that it had metastasized into his lungs, and things were looking very grim.  The latest news is that though the swollen kidney they removed was in fact cancerous, thankfully it appears that the issue in his lungs is perhaps just a minor infection.  So for now, the doctors keep an eye on it, and we just continue to wait to make sure that proves true.  But to be honest, by the time this event rolled around, I was so dull to the emotions that I just kind of ... stared wide eyed through most of it.

Meanwhile, during all this, obviously I'm still hoping each month that I'll become pregnant again.  And it's just ... not ... happening.  Which is maddening, considering how quickly I got pregnant before.  And that means every month I'm living through this constant process of counting days, counting cycles,  and restraining myself from the things I love on the days when I might be pregnant, only to find out it was all for naught.  Not to mention the running stroller my husband gave me for my birthday back when I was still pregnant, which sits in our workout room gathering dust.  Some days I can barely mange to look at it, and close the workout room door in disgust when I see it.  I keep thinking I should pack it up and put it into storage, but for some reason I just can't stomach that finality.

So, I guess it kind of goes without saying that things for me have been extremely stressful in the last year or so.  Which is why ... yes, I'm up 15-20 pounds.  But there is just too much going on right now, so I'm not going to pressure myself over it.

And although I've typed all the above, the reality is ... I'm getting better.  I finally made it through an entire month without stressing monumentally about any of the above. 

Plus, I'm finally able to do workouts again without major foot pain.  And, I just found out I got into the TC 10 mile this week.

So, things are starting to look up again.  With my first tri on the schedule for this weekend, and some major races on the docket for this fall ... I think I'm finally starting to get back into a normal rhythm again.

Let's hope this time, it sticks.

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