Quick recap:
My Granny died, which then resulted in my family collectively losing their shit and turning into a nightmare.
I went on a trip with my mother in law to Texas. Which was good and bad, she is a very intense person and I missed my husband dearly.
My sister got hit by a car and was seriously injured, which took up a lot of time to take care of her. She has mostly recovered but still needs a lot of hand holding.
My husband and I went for two weeks to Mexico.
Christmas at my house, which sounds nice but there is always problems with an individual that causes strife.
Decided to move from our old apartment to a townhouse, which ended up happening on the coldest day of the year her -39C.
So to say the least I have felt the need to just stay quiet. I cant say with certainty that I will be a great blogger but I will try. Now onto the meat and bones of this post, please read below.
Well I don’t know if I will be able to put this down
rationally but I feel as though I need to get it off my chest. I am having this body image crisis, not that
I don’t love myself and what I am or what I am made of but how I feel about the
outside image I present.
Deep confessional time, I wear spanx every day every single
day unless I don’t leave my house; I have always felt that if my bits wobble
then they should be reined in and have thus built my wardrobe around a
conservative fairly covered silhouette.
But as I get older the more I look back on my early and mid-twenties I
feel as though I have limited myself too much.
I see styles that I would like to wear but I have felt as though my body
did not match with the presented model.
But more and more I read blogs of women of all shapes and sizes and
realize that it’s not the world that’s judging me its me that’s judging me.
Another deep confessional time, In April I really had to
rethink my priorities because I had a missed miscarriage (which was sad but
gave me an opportunity for some introspective thoughts) and have finally come
to the thoughts that I am not happy with what I have limited myself to. I felt deeply unattractive after my miscarriage,
I had gained just a little weight because my hormones went all funky, my skin
had gotten a little oily again because of the hormones causing me to breakout,
and I just felt down and out. Everyone
at the clinic kept saying that I needed to give myself a break but I find that
kind of helping not helpful, just pandering.
I had to deal with my headspace playing games on me and still even today
I occasionally have negative thoughts(I think that it has to do with all the
girls in my office being pregnant, thank goodness their maternity leaves are
all starting and it can go back to a maternity free office). But now I am becoming at peace with it, my
body is healing and I know at the very least that I can get pregnant. Although I am not following doctors’ advice
anymore, please see mini rant below:
v
Mini Rant
Not to sound like an insane person but I do
not trust doctors, it’s not that I don’t believe in modern medicine, in fact I
am highly fascinated medicine and consider myself well read in medical science,
I can hold my own when in conversations with my doctor friends. What I don’t trust is that they are largely
motivated by money. As much as Canada
touts itself as having universal healthcare there is still a touch of pharmaceutical
interfering. For example my doctor recommended
bladder infection medicine that I knew was contra-indicated with other meds
that I was taking because it was provided to her office as swag. I also feel as though my doctor wasn’t necessarily
truthful with me regarding my miscarriage, she did not tell me my HCG levels
were low enough to be concerned, nor did she tell me that my ultrasound wasn’t really
a dating ultrasound, it was more of a viability test. Tack onto that when I went to the ultrasound
even though the tech was supposed to give me results she did not. Then to complete the bullshit circle my doctor’s
receptionists whispered about me, about my miscarriage, as I am waiting to see
my doctor to get my test results. I knew
that I had miscarried before I saw my doctor, I knew as soon as I saw my
ultrasound results, I didn’t need a doctor to tell me but it would have been
nice to get some compassion. Then I had
to complete a medically managed miscarriage at a hospital clinic which honestly
pissed me off. I know that not everyone
is like me but when I hear nurses talking in soft baby talk telling me that its
ok to cry and to be gentle on myself it pisses me off more than anything. I just want someone to talk to me like an
adult, I am a 28 year old married woman who has had a miscarriage, I am neither
a teenager nor a weakling who cannot handle an adult conversation. I may handle life’s struggles a bit
mechanically but its my process and asking if I want to talk to a padre over
and over again is not doing anything to make me feel better it just pisses me
off. I like to deal with my issues by
being alone and painting, writing, sewing or just sitting in a bath with a
McChicken in hand watching reruns of British comedy shows on my iPad. But finally the process was over and I was done
with the hospital portion of things, but then they tell me that I should wait
for several months to try again. I don’t
really think that’s sound or sage advice, I had a normal miscarriage, it lasted
9 days from start to finish, my HCG levels returned to normal immediately and
my body has already rebounded hormonally.
When our ancestors would have a miscarriage did they wait 3 months
before having intimate time NO and as sure as shit I can guarantee that they
did not use anything other than the timing method to prevent pregnancy and yet
the human race continued to endure. I
know some people say it’s because your body needs time to recover from the
trauma of the miscarriage but I personally know of 3 people that were pregnant
almost immediately after giving birth and surely birth is more trying on your
body than a miscarriage. I have come to
a resounding thought in that I am not going to actively try to prevent
pregnancy so I will just let what happens happen. When I am meant to have a baby I will have
one, be damned if they want me to wait, fate will take its course. If my doctor has a problem with that then ultimately
that’s her problem and not mine.
v
End Mini rant that turned into a long rant,
apologies
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