And Still, I Gestate

Joe and I went to the baby’s first ultrasound yesterday. Because I’ve been on bed rest (and going insane) the bleeding had subsided by Wednesday evening, which meant we could have the ultrasound on Thursday afternoon.

Everyone was very nice. I tend to read too much into things so I think they were treating me with the uber-nice set of bedside manner skills. And I jump from there to the conclusion that they think I’m going to lose this baby so they treat me with more smiles, arm squeezes and shoulder pats. Either that, or I really am just so incredibly charming and don’t know it.

Here is Exhibit A:

uterus

Here are the two scenarios they gave me.

1) My uterus is reabsorbing the fetus. I will continue to bleed until I manifest a full miscarriage in the next two weeks. No amount of bed rest, Wikka, prayer or hocus-pocus will do anything to stop it from happening.

or

2) I really DID have the flu for 3 weeks, took the first home pregnancy test the very same day that the egg implanted and by some stroke of luck my hCG was high enough to show positive along with the next five tests. This would put me at only 5 weeks pregnant, which could account for not being able to see anything in the gestational sack. Which, as you can see by the blue arrow in the above illustration of my uterus, is mostly empty save for a few ribbons of something near the bottom. Which would be wrong for 8 weeks.

So, either we lose the baby over the next 2 weeks or we go back for an ultrasound in 3 to see if anything has changed in there. You can guess which one we are hoping for.

Thank you so much for all your comments, emails, letters and packages of encouragement. Your support means so much to us. If I don’t answer you, it’s just because I don’t know what to say right at the moment. My mental health seems to be a bit teetering on the edge and I’m really concentrating on keeping it together. Thanks for understanding.

Much love,
lpc

Gloria Steinem & Greenstone Media

I was lucky enough to speak with Gloria Steinem about Greenstone Media the other day. She and Jane Fonda, among other great women, have created a national radio network owned by women and featuring women. You can read what I took away from the call over at Huffington Post.

Also on the call were these classy ladies:

Que Sera Sera
Mommy Needs Coffee
Motherhood Uncensored
Her Bad Mother
Three New York Women
Brazen Careerist
Mom 101
Almost Literary
Pamela Slim

Bed Restlessness

Because I have been stuck in bed for the past few days, I have been absorbing way more than any person should know about Goldie (actually very smart!) and Kate (as sweet as she appears!), J-Lo (actually has a legitimate music career!), Cameron Diaz (i would like my ass to look like hers in roos!), the right way to fold a t-shirt courtesy of Martha Stewart (i don’t care! i roll mine!), who incidentally, licked jam off of David Letterman’s finger last night (it looked like blood!), watching Kelly Ripa pick a splinter out of Regis’s foot, (I AM NOT A FOOT PERSON!!) and watching episodes of Project Runway that I’ve seen probably five times but still enjoy way too much (yay! vincent is finally out!).

A very thoughtful person sent me a box of books, music and even a game to help my mind not turn into a bowl of oatmeal. Thank you, Amy. And, my husband thanks you since it keeps me from being quite as crabby.

Interview with Brandon Rogers

Brandon Rogers from One Child Left Behind makes me laugh. And laugh. And laugh until my gut hurts and tears are running down my cheeks. Sometimes, I have no idea what he’s talking about. Sometimes I do. But, it doesn’t matter because his writing is so creative and strong. It’s beautiful and honest. His own personal favorite post (listed below) is actually the first post I ever read of his and I admit it, I fell in love. Brandon has written for McSweeneys. And I hear he writes some pretty sexy material for scholastic books, of which I have not had the pleasure of perusing. Brandon lives in Washington State with his very understanding wife and two children, who ask him to bing them in the head with small, plastic toys. For fun. And, he has a potty mouth. If you are my mother, you don’t want to read any further.

I'm Growing a Human

So, funny story.

Joe and I quit trying to have a baby sometime during last year since it didn’t seem to be working out too well. Add to that the fact that my PCOS seems to not really ever give me a clear picture of when I’m going to have my period or when my period is actually happening, since it can start and stop over the course of a few weeks, just in time to start again, and you can see why we are sort of, no, really surprised to find that we’re expecting a human in about 7 months.

Are you ready for the cliché moment?
I thought I had some kind of bug that was going around.

But one night, after being sick on and off for about two weeks, we went out with a friend and my glass of wine tasted weird. And then the next morning, when my stomach wasn’t really upset and I should have been able to eat breakfast fine, the coffee made me want to hurl. And then I was suspicious. Because, dude. I like wine and coffee.

I took a home pregnancy test. And then I did 5 more, different brands, because I kept not believing it and thought that somehow, I was getting all the broken ones and the next one, the REAL one, would tell me I wasn’t. But it didn’t happen.

Last week, I was spotting and having lower backaches, which historically for me has been a sign of impending miscarriage. But by Thursday, that was all gone and in it’s place is this completely irrational emotional behavior, which I guess was rearing it’s ugly head as early as last weekend when I freaked out over the BBQ. It went something like this:

Me: Devon, we need eggs! Go get some eggs!
The world as we know it will end if I don’t have eggs to make potato salad!

Joe: Dev says he has to finish putting together the BBQ so he doesn’t want to go.
Why are my wife’s eyes so wide open? Is that foam on the side of her mouth?

Me: But I need eggs!
Why aren’t you offering to go get the eggs? Don’t you love me??

Joe: Well, what do you need the eggs for?
uuuuuuhhhhh?

Me: What do mean? I want to make potato salad!
How dare you ask me what I need eggs for?? I NEED EGGS!!!

Joe: *sigh* I guess I could go.
*SIIIIIIIGHHHHHHHH*

Me: You know what? Forget it! I don’t need eggs. I just won’t make potato salad.
OH REALLY???? Oh, no you won’t. Not with that attitude, mister!

Joe: Seriously, I’ll go get some eggs.
Dude.

Me: NO! I don’t want eggs! It doesn’t matter!
Why are you trying to force me make potato salad?? Why do you hate me and treat me like a slave?

Joe: Leah. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do here. Do you want me to go buy the eggs or not?
Who is this woman?

Me: I can’t believe you are asking me that! I can’t BELIEVE you don’t know what I want you to do!!!
He will never understand me! Our marriage is over!

Joe: Um…..I’m going to go upstairs for a minute.
I need space away from this demon woman.

Me: Oh, fine! Ok, kids. I guess we have to have our BBQ without Joe!
He hates me!

Even as the hyper-ridiculous verbiage was spewing out of my mouth, I knew it was dumb and making no sense! But my mouth – she just kept going. Joe came back downstairs in 3 minutes and helped the kids who were cowering in the corner to escape the room unnoticed where they all asked him what had happened to their mother. Yes, that day was super cool.

I can’t eat enough watermelon and the smell of chives makes me want to hurl. And if the store doesn’t have my favorite kind of shampoo, I will cry. I’ll also cry when my favorite pair of jeans is in the washer and I can’t wear them. And when the cell phone commercial comes on because that is just so sweet. And if there is any program on any station on the television that includes anything remotely connected to babies.

But not when I allow the sandwich bread to become soggy. No, in that case, I’ll just laugh and laugh and laugh. Until you wish I would cry and knock it off.

I suppose we could still lose this baby. Neither of us would be surprised because it has happened twice in the past few years. But we’re trying to project Positivity.

Interview with Anil Dash

Anil Dash, contrary to what you might think when you read some of his responses below, is not always a man of few words. He sometimes has quite a bit to say, unless you want to know more about Blortals, in which case, he clams up. A blog oldtimer, Anil does a lot of public speaking on subjects ranging from the relationship between blogs and traditional media to the future of social communication online. He has been featured in Wired, the New York Times, MSNBC, CNN and PBS as well as radio and in print. You might remember his influence when the word Nigritude Ultramarine started showing up everywhere. Currently, Anil is Vice President at Six Apart. He lives in San Francisco with his wife, Alaina, and their feline and canine. And, he really does love Prince.

It Was the Best of Times

ACT I

The day started out late.
I was impatiently waiting for what seemed like hours, but what was in fact, hours, for the kids to come home. They had been scheduled to arrive the previous night but the call of a sleepover was stronger than fresh sheets on their own beds. And me.
My consolation prize of at least getting to fix them a breakfast feast was quickly dashed when they did not show up early as promised. The oldest one called and re-promised their arrival very, very soon.
Three hours later, when all the afternoon plans I had made were no longer viable due to travel times, ending times and general time constraints, they rolled in, all smiles and happy to see me. All was forgiven.

ACT II

We watched movies for a bit and packed a picnic lunch of hoagie sandwiches, veggies and chips. Departing at 4:30 wasn’t the original plan, or even the third plan, but it worked. We got in the car and drove to Little Tokyo. First stop, Kinokuniya book store, where they carry things like little erasers that smell like peaches and the tiniest colored pencil set you’ve ever seen. Oh, yes, and lots of Manga.
Our last stop was the Hollywood Forever Cemetery where we were going to sit in the graveyard on blankets, watch an old movie and eat our delightful picnic.
When we drove to the gated entrance, I got out to ask the nice man if we were at the wrong gate since there didn’t seem to be any other cars lined up to go in. The very nice man told me in a very nice way that we had the wrong night and everyone else had come yesterday.

ACT III

We decided to not waste our evening. We’d go to Griffith Park and eat our picnic there. I mean, at least we still had our dinner. It wasn’t the end of the world by any means. Yes, my daughter was upset that she had worn her way-too-short jean skirt and leggings for nothing and my son kept asking if we could hurry up, turn around and head back for a movie at the Cineplex and another son was very upset not to sit on top of dead people for a few hours, but I knew all of them were team players and were actually going to have a lot of fun. Ahem.
We found the park fine and unloaded the picnic to the nearest table, which was in the shade and close to the bathrooms. Score! We set out the food and I passed everyone a sandwich.
So, here is a little tip from me to you. When you pack the sandwiches in the cooler and then add ice, the ice will melt. And if you haven’t made sure that the sandwiches are in a watertight environment, the sandwich bread is going to get soaked. Like, totally soaked. And then? No one wants to eat their sandwich. Including me.
One child, after lovingly sharing his feelings about the soggy bread, created a healthy, low-carb version of the sandwich by wrapping the lunchmeat in lettuce. We foster an innovative and creative environment wherever we go.
Most of us ate cucumber slices and carrots.
I don’t like BBQ flavored potato chips.
I laughed quite a bit throughout the picnic. It wasn’t all sane sounding.
All in all, the picnic was a success since we all hate bread, anyway. Not really. I love bread more than chocolate.

ACT IV

Day two. Let’s go, people! We only have one day left of this weekend! Let’s have some fun! NOW!
What? My yelling and freaking-out overall demeanor is not really helping to cultivate fun?
What? You’re scared of me? Why are you cowering in the corner?
Let’s get the BBQ started!
After Joe, Dev and Ty got the BBQ put together, (and here is a bonus tip: $17 BBQs might not be the best purchase. I’m just sayin’.) I was excited to cook up the hamburgers. Yes, excited. Suddenly, I wanted grilled hamburger more than anything else in the entire world. RRRrrrrorr! Meat!
But first, we had to light the briquettes without lighter fluid, since I forgot to buy some.
Unfortunately, no one knew how to do that. We tried many ways including rolled up corrugated cardboard, a saturation of Jack Daniels and when I wasn’t looking – gasoline courtesy of an impatient son who is now lucky to only be missing his arm hair. Who also happens to be in big trouble. (Those two things are not exclusive.)
After dousing the five-foot wall of flaming briquettes and then cleaning out the BBQ as much as we could, we tried again. This time, with store bought lighter fluid. Amazing difference.
Did you know that you are supposed to wait for about 45 minutes after the briquettes finish burning before they are hot enough to cook with? I vaguely remembered something about that. But in my carnivorous state, craving cow flesh as I was, my brain was not what it could have been, and I put the meat on immediately. Where is continued to be raw for 15 minutes. And then we took them inside and fried them on the stove in a pan in the kitchen. In the meantime, two of the kids had left to other commitments and missed out on the burgers. They missed out on the FUN! of being with ME!
I know, right?

EPILOGUE

I wish I had some really awesome finish to this story, but I don’t. We watched The Abyss and White Men Can’t Jump. I freaked out a few more times over completely dumb things. They all continue to forgive and love me.
I am the luckiest person in the whole world.

Dissociative Disorders

In rewriting parts of my book, I had the chance to get a little deeper into the frustration of how dissociative disorders are classed and diagnosed. Here is an excerpt:

During my stay at a mental hospital in 1999, not only did a doctor diagnose me accurately with DDNOS, but I didn’t make myself forget the diagnosis, which had happened a few years previous. This is after being misdiagnosed any number of times with any number of ailments, some of which were correct for specific personalities but never the entire picture. Diagnosing someone with DID or DDNOS can be particularly difficult if the therapist only sees one or two of the personalities during their visits together. I was lucky to meet some very competent doctors during that first mental hospital stay.

The full definition of DDNOS can be found in the dictionary:
DDNOS is a diagnostic category ascribed to patients with dissociative symptoms that do not meet the full criteria for a specific dissociative disorder.

Because there are only a handful of specified dissociative disorders, there are any number of people falling through the cracks without a diagnosis. Add to that the fact that many states and doctors don’t acknowledge DID as a ‘real’ illness, and you can see why there are so many people not getting the help they need. After all, if your doctor doesn’t believe in the illness you have, how can they help you heal?

This is a serious problem and needs to change. We need better words and clearer diagnosis. It was nice to see that I’m not the only one frustrated with this current diagnosing system and the words that are used. This letter to the editor from Kenneth A. Nakdimen, MD says pretty much the same thing.

If you read my book and would feel comfortable giving me specific feedback, please let me know. I’m getting plenty of feedback from editors about what they think should be ‘streamlined’ but I’d like to know how those of you that have read it feel.

Painting

I’m working on some paintings inspired by Southern Utah. I’ll post images in a week or so. In the meantime, here are two from last year that are still available. Kind of a set but fine by themselves.

Precious Moments

Sometimes when I’m with my children, I just can’t believe how lucky I am. I look around the room, or as is the case yesterday, the car via the rearview mirror, and I’m almost unable to breath, I feel so lucky. We were busy running to and fro and to and fro and fro again getting all the kids signed up at their respective schools, changing schedules, picking up books and doing all other manner of getting ready for school activities. There were peals of laughter, good-natured ribbing and their beautiful voices combining in song:

When you’ve got no place to go
And you feel it in your toes
Diarrhea
Diarrhea

When you’re wearing a white dress
And you feel a lumpy mess
Diarrhea
Diarrhea

When you’re standing in the trees
And you smell a stinky breeze
Diarrhea
Diarrhea

When you’re right next to a pole
And it’s coming out your hole
Diarrhea
Diarrhea

When you’re squatting in the hut
And it’s coming out your butt
Diarrhea
Diarrhea