Thumbs Up!

The only thing funnier would have been if he gave us the "thumbs down" sign.

This is the boy's hand.  Giving us the "thumbs up" sign at our 20 week ultrasound yesterday.  The girl was all dancing around and we saw her little feets moving around, making it hard for the tech to get a good picture of her. 

There aren't many words to describe that feeling of awe and joy when you first see the fully formed little mini humans moving around inside your belly. 

So, I will just share a couple more photos with you.



The boy.  In profile.



And, the girl.  THE GIRL.

All is well in there.  They are both in great shape and all measurements and checks indicate that they are developing as they should be.  Gratitude abounds. 

Things I Love Thursday - Part 49

I met up with a couple college girlfriends last night that I hadn't seen since we graduated in 1995.   Well, that's not true, one of the girls SAW ME at a Fiona Apple concert years ago out of my fucking mind on booze and I have no memory of it.  She emailed me on Facebook a couple years ago and asked if that was me, I said, yes, that sounds like me and I was at the concert.  Not that I remember it. 

In the neighborhood of Andersonville in Chicago, there is this glorious contraption of entertainment, the Puppet Bike. 

Anyway, I got there early and was sitting outside watching the Puppet Bike when this dude sat down next to me with a duffel bag and gym shoes with no laces.  I know this look.  It's the homeless look OR the look of someone on a psych ward who has had all their laces and belts stripped so they don't try to off themselves.  I have lived both situations.  Anyway, this dude sat there for a minute and pulled out a HUGE hard cover Dictionary and proceeded to read it.  Upside down.  I know this story.  I have lived this story.  I so vividly remember sitting on park benches trying desperately to act normal to appear normal to BE normal while I was casing the people walking around me to see if I could get any cash or favors from them. 

This is the conversation:

Him: "I was going to ask you if you had a smoke but I see you are pregnant." 
My tears welled up as I answered, "I quit smoking right before I got pregnant, so I'm sorry I don't have one for you."
Him: "So you really did smoke?"
Me: "Yeah, I did a lot of things.  I'm a recovering drunk."
JHim: "You sure don't look like one."
Me:  "I've been where you are.   Are you OK?"
Him: "I'm OK, I just wish I had a smoke right now."
Me: "Well I hope to see you at an AA meeting some time.  They are all over the place, there's one right down the street here.  My name is Katy."  And I offered my hand in greeting, which he did not take.
Him: "Uh huh, hi Katy, good luck with your baby."
And off he goes.

Every time I have an encounter like this, I am terrified.  I look at my life today and know I am ONE DRINK away from that man last night.  I don't push AA, I offer it and suggest it and say, this is what I do and it works for me.  I hope it works for you too.  I can't NOT reach out to people.  It makes my husband nervous, but I'm a smart cookie.  I don't take a lot of risks, but I will risk helping someone if I can. 

One of the reasons I loved smoking, and there are many, is that it was a chance to strike up conversations.  Smoking can be a very social thing and there is not an opportunity for that if you aren't in a group with the smokers any longer.  Sure, conversations can happen anywhere, but the smoker conversation is something unique.  You know what I'm talking about.  I miss it. 

I went on to meet my girlfriends for dinner and we were transported back to being 19 and 20 years old and clueless but now with perspective appreciating the shit we went through.  We had each other's backs then and it feels like we do now too - in a very different but lovely way that only people with shared history can have.  We went through a very fucked up Theatre/Acting school for 4 years, and we have a bond because of that.  We laughed a lot and all realize that we were together during a moment in time where we were young and naive and yet thought we knew everything.  We didn't know shit. 

I didn't tell them this story of my conversation with the gentleman wanting a smoke because while he is my people, he is not everybody's people.  He is lost, he is pushed aside by society, but mostly by himself.  He's not lost to me.  Nobody is lost.  They just have to make the choice to start being found. 

The Thing I Love this Thursday is BEING FOUND.  By old friends who appreciate you for exactly who you are and all you've been through and for a lost soul BEING FOUND by sheer grace. 

What the HELL is HAPPENING?

OH CHILD, this belly is growing at a rapidly alarming rate!  Not to mention my ass.  This is the time, people.  The time of glowing and happiness and basking in the wonder that is creating not one but TWO babes in my increasing by the day belly.

There they are!  Dancing around in there like only Hall & Oates can!

And I am.  I feel great!  After the hell that was In Vitro for me, this pregnancy is a piece of cake.  And at 18 weeks along, I am right where I should be.  The bumpsters are mango sized now according to the "What to Expect When You are Expecting" app that I have on my phone.  They're all fruit and vegetable sizes, so that's a little weird but also good perspective, rather than, YOUR BABY is 5 INCHES.  Give me a mango and yeah, I know what that shit looks like.  And maybe want to eat it, which is only a tad disconcerting.  I'm eating pretty well with some allowances for some stuff I crave, but nothing crazy.  I'm trying to walk on a regular basis and just overall trying to be healthy.  I don't believe being pregnant is an excuse to throw everything out the window and just eat crap.  Nobody benefits from that, my babies or me.  Or my husband who I want to be attracted to ALL THIS.

This is the time where panic and happiness and excitement collide.  Just thinking about all the baby shit we will need is overwhelming to the point where I literally bat my arms around and say, "OK, I'll come back to that later...." The really fortunate thing is we have several friends who have twins and can help me with this process.  The registering, the feelings the reality of what all of this is going to take.  I've had maternity clothes given to me second hand and offers of all kinds of baby stuff and I couldn't be more grateful.  Don't even get me started on how freaked out I get by baby showers and all the stuff.  Social anxiety combined with people giving us shit, is overwhelming to say the least.  So grateful, but so overwhelmed. 

AND,  What is going to happen when I go back to work? 

*SCREECHING HALT NOISE*

Reel it all back in there, sister. 

Gazillions of people have done this before with way less resources, money and love than we have.  Millions will do it after us.  What I really really really want to do right now is enjoy where we are.  We have two babes that are developing and growing and dancing and getting ready to rock our worlds upon their arrival. 

It is simultaneously the scariest and most exhilarating feeling I've ever known.

Nothing new or earth shattering as we are just grains of sand that are doing what so many have done before us, but dammit, this is new to me.  New to us.  And we are truly loving it.  As surreal as it is, and I never thought we would be in this situation, the joy I feel when I see and hear my dear sweet Dumpster Husband talking to our babies makes me weepy with joy.  WEEPY WITH JOY. 

Now, back to my rapidly expanding ass.......

Things I Love Thursday - Part 48

I'm going light today.  Or am I?

The Thing I Love this Thursday is the world of MATERNITY. 

I love me some maternity leggings!  They are from Old Navy and they have the full front panel that goes right over Hall & Oates so beautifully.  I AM IN LOVE WITH THESE LEGGINGS.

Easy Peasy for the modern girl of maternity - a big JCrew shirt, leggings and chunky heels.   And why is it whenever I say or hear the word maternity I am INSTANTLY transported back to the 1950's?  WHY IS THAT? Is it so old-timey that it does that others besides me?  Well, I'm utterly OBSESSED with Mad Men and know WAY too much about the show and it's fashion and politics and character motivations.  And I like it that way. 

Long gone are the days of Betty Draper sitting in her kitchen with Francine drinking and smoking and watching little Sally Draper with a dry cleaning bag over her head with the only worry being something along the lines of "if those dry cleaned clothes are messed up you are in big trouble, Missy!"



This is about my favorite scene ever from anything ever.  (ALL these Mad Men photos are courtesy of the mad geniuses at TLO - Tom and Lorenzo - My FAVORITE RECAP SITE if for some reason you don't read them yet, YOU ARE MISSING OUT!)

 Those were the days, weren't they?  I MISS SMOKING.  Yes, I still miss smoking.  I'm not doing it, but dammit, I miss it. 

My two favorites.  Roger and Joanie.  And the ciggy.  Mmmmmmmm. 

And Miss Trudy Campbell here in here cotton candy frou frou come and get me but stay the hell away from me get up?  FABULOUS. 

Y'all know I love me some old school glamour.  I just do.  And most days I'm still wearing my own clothes - meaning non-"maternity" clothes.  WE ARE SO LUCKY TO HAVE STRETCHY CLOTHES.  These gals didn't have that back then.  I still wear the cat-eye glasses and the red lipstick and you can pry those from my cold dead hands thankyouverymuch, but shit like this nonsense above, no way.  In my defense, as in the "I didn't just jump on the Mad Men train",  I had these cat eye glasses and red red lips long before Mad Men came on the air.  And will long after it goes off the air.

We are in a great place today in history for women's fashion - and particularly in maternity clothes -  in that we can be all retro if we want and yet have the modern comforts of stretchy pants too.  PURRRRRRRFECT. 

I'm still pinning to my What are you wearing today? board over on the Pinterest.  You will see the transformation from no belly to belly with two babes.  It's fun!  But not NEARLY as much fun as being able to smoke and drink while pregnant.  Sonsabitches. 
   

It Just Gets Better and Better

Here's what I know.  I once was lost and now I am found.  I was once a recluse, a non-human being feeling doing, and now I am a functioning, respected contributor to society.  But more than that, I am happy.  Daddy Doin' Work did a post on "Achieving Happy" today.  He speaks about the change in his life and what made him realize just how good everything in life is and that he best get to appreciating and making the most of it.  LOVE THAT. 

When you have hit a bottom in your life, any kind of bottom, be it emotional, financial, physical, addiction - IT CHANGES YOU. 

The show INTERVENTION is new again.  I've watched every episode since it started airing.  I find it to be therapeutic in that it takes me RIGHT BACK to where I was 11 years ago.  Which is homeless, hopeless, penniless, drunk, blacked out, without any kind of hope or grace or glimmer of happiness.  I sit and cry and shake the entire episode.  For the families, who are just as sick in their own way as the user.  I cry for who I was and what I inflicted on people who loved me and tried so hard to help me.  And then I'm grateful.  I am so grateful and it makes me want to do more, be more, help more who need help, who WANT help. 

I've been on both sides of interventions.  I've been the irate bitchy selfish scared drunk who runs out of the room yelling and swearing and pushing everyone away.  I've also been the one sitting there hoping to get someone to their bottom before they reach it on their own.  There is no right or wrong way to do this.  To reach a bottom. 

Mine came about 11 years ago, on October 4, 2001.  You know this story.  I was in jail for public intoxication and fighting (YES, ME, FIGHTING - that tells you how different I was when I was drinking).  I felt a moment of something.  I didn't know what it was.  It felt like a spark, a glimmer, a tiny minute moment of what I call grace.  To me grace means a reprieve from the awfulness that had previously been my entire existence. 

If you have hit a bottom of any kind, you know what I am talking about.  No one can make you really hit that bottom but yourself.  Your friends and family try and try and sometimes the consequences work, sometimes they don't.  For me they did, I lost EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE.  And yet, I was still drinking.  BECAUSE I WAS SICK. 

I hallucinated if I didn't drink.  I had seizures if I didn't drink.  I had delirium tremens if I didn't drink.  I was the most pathetic, sad creature you would ever encounter.  And, yet, I am so very grateful for every single thing that hit me, that I put myself through.  It WAS NOT POSSIBLE for me to go a couple hours without drinking.  During the day, during the night, I HAD TO DRINK.  And yet now, somehow, miraculously, through working a good program of Alcoholics Anonymous, I am not drinking.  And not just that, I am happy, joyous and free. 

This hitting bottom changed me.  I wouldn't change any of it.  Not one thing.  It has made me who I am.  It has made me this person who is hard and soft at the same time.  It has granted me compassion and grace.  It has given me perspective on other people struggling and ability to listen and to try and help.  THIS is all what has made me HAPPY. 

Hippy Dippy guide to happiness.  I need simple guidance and this works.  photo by www.happinessinyourlife.com

Hope, Happiness and Grace are three qualities I want to exude.  I am agnostic, which to me means I believe in something bigger than me, of course, as my ego is not that big to believe nothing else exists, but I don't have a definition of what that is - and I don't need to.  I've had my spiritual journey that's led me everywhere, and I am at a great place today believing I have a Higher Power, but I don't need to tell you all about it.  It's personal.  Just like yours is personal. 

I don't have to try very hard as they were gifts given to me.  I just want to keep that circle going.  I never take one second of my life for granted.  NOT ONE SECOND.  I believe the reason I am here is to share what I was given and keep being grateful.  I don't know shit about a lot of things.  I know A LOT about being a drunk and getting and staying sober.  That is the highest calling I could ever hope to achieve.  I just hope I keep doing the next right thing to stay sober.  I choose today not to drink.  I hope I wake up tomorrow and do the same thing. 

I am here to be a mom, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a good employee, an aunt, a friend, but MOST OF ALL I am here to carry the message of sobriety.  And how very good life is on the other side of Hell.  Happiness is a by product of living well and of living right.  I want to keep what I have and add to it.  So I choose to keep working at this thing called sobriety.  One day at a time.  With all of you. 

Things I Love Thursday - Part 47



THIS is about my all time favorite picture of my dad and I.

My dad is pretty damn awesome.

This really tells a good story of my dad.  It's worth it to go look at the pictures.  FOR REAL.  Go.  Seriously.  It's pretty amazing he turned out the way he has. 
My Dad's Mother was Blanche DuBois and Norma Desmond Combined.

My Dad is more open minded, sympathetic, put together, responsible, charming, chivalrous and successful in life than he has any right to be by his upbringing.  My dad SHOULD be a raging alcoholic who smokes unfiltered Camels.  Oh, and be married and divorced several times.  Because that is what his parents and relatives did before him.  But he's not.  Because he chose not to do those things.  He made the decision and just didn't do it. 

We don't have the same dimples or anything.  Not at all.

He SHOULD be a big ol' mess.  But instead he's a great dad and an incredible Grandfather to my peanut nephews and niece.  He has taken care of my mom for over 40 years and not only taken care of her but made her laugh an enjoy life more when they are together.  He's taken care of my brother and I with whatever we could have possibly needed.  He worked so very hard to give us all what we needed and wanted and provided the best in life for us as a family, he still does.  He has given more than a man should.  And that is what makes him a great man and a phenomenal father.

More so today than ever before, I understand and appreciate my dad.  He went through a challenging childhood as an only child of MULTIPLE divorces (see link above) and yet, he came out on top.  He and I had rocky times, as any child and parent will from time to time, but you all know how they helped me get sober and since then, we've worked really hard to have a mutually respectful relationship, and today, we have it.  It's full of love and fun and appreciation.  He has a great sense of humor and I know I get some of it from him.  He is a bit of a dandy - a clotheshorse if you will - and I KNOW I get that from him.  I really enjoy spending time with him today. 

The older we both get, the more I appreciate him. 

One of my greatest joys is seeing and hearing my Dear Sweet Husband with my dad.  I never thought it would happen, but these two have so much in common and my dad gets really excited to see and talk with him.  "Well, I have to tell Christopher about this....."  SO CUTE.  They have a lot in common and their brains are wired similarly.  It's fascinating. 

He loves Sally Boy too.  Who doesn't?

He is so excited for these bumpsters in my belly.  I know he never thought he would be Grampy to what will be 6 kids soon between my brothers kids and mine, but he loves it.  He thrives on it. It's his reason for everything now.  And I'm so grateful I get to watch all that. 

Last time my parents were visiting.  Now one of my favorite pictures.  These two have my heart. 
More than ever with these babies coming, they are my backbone. 

The Darkness I SHOULD NOT Feel LET ALONE Talk About

Here's the awful truth, that we as women are not supposed to talk about, I was pregnant in the very early days of my pregnancy and I was ecstatically happy, except that I was still mega depressed from going through IVF (In VItro Made Me CRAZY) and the HORMONES MADE ME CRAZY  -- joint post with my girl Sam Irby, who was being made nutso by hormones as well for different reasons.  THOSE HORMONES ARE BASTARDS. 

People know about Postpartum Depression these days as many women experience this and it's more talked about.  But this damn pre-natal pregnancy depression kicked me in the vagina and the head and the heart big time.  My dear sweet Dumpster Husband sent me this article this morning that absolutely hit home as to what I was going through and and while I am on an upswing from now, it's still very relevant.

Not Just the Pregnancy Blues by Jessica Grose on Slate

I stopped all my meds in July 2011, the last one being Zoloft, as I was getting my body in prime baby baking shape.  Now, that was hard to withdraw from, but I did it, and honestly, didn't have that much of a serious problem with anxiety or depression until I started the damn hormones and birth control pills they jacked me up on for In Vitro.  It's a stronger dose than regular pills, and I had never been on the pill in my life, so this was all new to me.

I put myself through this, so I know it's my own fault.  I've been on psych wards.  NOT AS AN OBSERVER.  You know what I'm saying?  I am no stranger to mental health issues.  I have a history here and I am aware of what healthy is for me and what it is not.  I was not healthy going through IVF.  I was fucked up.  BUT, I also knew it would pass and hopefully the outcome would be worth it.  Which, in our case, it absolutely is.  But I feel I need to address it.  

The pill made me fucking crazy.  It made me seriously lethargic and depressed.  As in, I didn't leave our apartment for about 3 months, unless it was going to work or something I absolutely had to do.  And even then it was such a Herculean effort, that it took all my energy to just get my ass out of bed.  I could barely go to the grocery store. I was miserable. It seems silly to say this about a pill that has done huge things for women through the years and I'm grateful for the pill but GOD DAMMIT, SCREW YOU PILL!

Even after I found out we were pregnant, we were just so nervous and I was in a funk about it.  WHY?  Because my chemical make up responded wackily to these drugs and to the hormones from then being pregnant. 

Now that I'm in my 2nd trimester, the depression and lethargy have subsided.  I see my friends and go out and do things.  My friends that I kept saying, "NO NO NO NO NO" to everything they asked of me, I now say "yes" again and it feels good.  I'm not encumbered by the hurt and the anxiousness I was engulfed in during those three months.  When I'm smiling my big goofy ass smile, it's absolutely genuine and I'm not barking at people pretty much at all.  All to say, I'm so god damned happy it's kind of sickening.

Anyone who says I am complaining when I should be the happiest woman in the world right now for being pregnant with twins, can kiss my white Irish arse.  Everyone who reads my blog and knows me knows how OVER THE FUCKING MOON I AM.  But this?  This realization that I really got socked with something major and didn't even FULLY really realize it at the time, makes me think there have to be so many others out there who have gone through this, or are going through this as well. 

The only reason I am able to write about this now with any kind of clarity is because I am climbing out of it.  You see me smiling and laughing and that is doubly good because I am pregnant with miracle babies.  Hope and Weird Science made these babies. This blog and writing and some very dear friends I've connected with through the internets and of course A.A. and my Dear Sweet Husband have helped me through this.  Sometimes the most I could do was write.  And I kept writing.  And I kept being grateful.  As miserable as I was, I was always grateful.  That doesn't change.  If it ever does change, we are in serious trouble.  Everything else passes, gratitude just evolves.  I'm so grateful I am not in that hole I was in even a few weeks ago.  I also know I can go into a different hole as this pregnancy continues and even after I give birth.  Being aware and able to talk about it is so very helpful.

The happy is back!  For now. 

 

Embrace ALL the feelings.  Not just the shiny happy ones.  That is the only way we are truly healthy.  I have to feel the bad to feel the good.  Embrace and deal with ALL THE FEELINGS.  And just because they aren't fact, doesn't mean we don't need to deal with them in some way.  THIS TOO SHALL PASS. 

KaBUMPo!!!!!

Things I Love Thursday - Part 46

It's Thursday.  And the Thing I Love today is MY TOOL BOX. 

I have accumulated if you will, a toolbox. 

Now, picture the actual tools being metaphorical tools, say, the wrench is PAUSING BEFORE REACTING, and the hammer is SITTING WITH IT.   

Not sitting ON it, a la The Fonz.  But just having a feeling, SITTING WITH IT, and not having to act on it immediately and from my gut. I've written before about what an asshole I used to be when I first got sober - the first few years there.  I wrote about keeping it zipped in the workplace, and what a gift that is to be able to SHUT MY DAMN PIE HOLE.

But SITTING WITH IT for me, means something happens or someone does something to me (most times it's not TO ME anyway) and I just don't react.  Similar to pausing, in fact, right after pausing, SITTING WITH IT can mean the time I just digest.  And talk to other trusted people about it.  Meditate on it.   Just FEEL it.  It's OK to just FEEL it.  Even if it's shitty and I feel so pressed to react, I still SIT WITH IT today.  NOT ALWAYS, but so much more than I used to.  I used to drink to not feel this stuff.  It was too uncomfortable to feel uncomfortable.  And guess what?  IT STILL IS UNCOMFORTABLE.  But today, that is OK.  I can still SIT WITH IT and be OK.   

It is yet another tool that is in my toolbox of how to deal with being a functioning member of society these days.  I never learned these tools until I got sober.  It seems so silly and common sensical, but you see people flying off the handle and spreading their bullshit negativity everywhere they go, so it must NOT be that common sensical.  I don't want to be that person any more.  Because I was.  I was angry and I was bitter for a long time.  I gut reacted to EVERYTHING.  I made everything about my feelings.  And guess what?  Feelings aren't facts.  Most times things aren't even about me, and if I just PAUSE, SIT WITH IT and develop a plan, things go so much more smoothly for me.  And for others, for that matter. 

I am not that angry, bitter person anymore because I chose to change. I did a lot of hard work on myself that is still on-going and always will be.  COPING SKILLS.  LIFE TOOLS.  Who knew?   These  tools I've learned through sobriety and I have a chance to make better choices in my life. 

It sounds super hippie dippy trippy, but I'm all about love and compassion today.  I want to give people the benefit of the doubt and I want to give second chances.  Of course, that's where another tool comes out of the tool box, BOUNDARIES.  Healthy boundaries protect me.  I am responsible for myself.  No one else is.  PERIOD.

I know, I hear myself talk sometimes and I want to spank my own face, but this shit works you guys!  It's all part of letting go and just being happy.  Not fighting so hard against everyone and everything has given me freedom to be genuinely happy.  Even the shittiest of times doesn't have to be so shitty, if I use my toolbox and don't rely on old behaviors.  Old behaviors make me sad and unhappy and miserable to be around.  Old behaviors make me drink. 

A Very Pretty Little Reminder

Eliza Jane Doolittle.  Named after the famous character in My Fair Lady and also a song by Vince Gill, "Little Liza Jane". 

She's not just my cat.  She's a reminder of everything I've done right and wrong in my adult life.  I adopted her from the Anti Cruelty Society in Chicago in 1996.  She was tiny.  About 6 weeks old and in a cage all by herself.  They didn't know where she came from or where her siblings or mother were. She had those same huge eyes she has now, but on a much smaller kitty face.  I fell in love immediately.  She came home with me the next day to what was my first apartment when I lived on my own after graduating college the year before.  We were two pretty ladies living together in the world and making our way!

Drinking got in our way.   Drinking took everything away from us.  She didn't ask for it.  She couldn't do anything to stop it except for look at me with those big huge eyes as if to question, "why do you keep doing this every single day to us?"  I never had kids when I was a drunk, and I can't imagine the anguish moms feel for having put their kids through this devastating life.  But I had a glimpse of it with this little soul depending on me for everything and I fucked up.  Every day.  Over and over again.  It didn't mean I didn't love her more than anything in the world.  It just meant that drinking took over any logical thinking or feeling.  IT TOOK OVER AND BECAME MORE IMPORTANT THAN ANYTHING ELSE.

She was there while I was an active drunk and lost everything, in the end - even her.  She waited when I was homeless, and she was living with my parents.  She waited when I was in jail.  She waited when I got sober and was in a halfway house.  She came back to me and has loved me ever since because I can take care of her properly now.  Too much to put on a cat?  Maybe.  But I believe I see all that in her eyes.  And she's another reminder of how grateful I am for every gift I have in my life today.  A roof over our heads and money to buy us both food is never taken for granted. 

Where she is happiest.  On my dear sweet Husband.

She is really my husband's kitty nowadays.  They have a very special and sweet relationship that I'm only a tiny bit bitter about.  In reality, when he and I got together and he not only "tolerated" my cats, but FELL IN LOVE with them?  It told me a huge amount about his character and how well we would fit together.  They are his cats now too and, as far as he's concerned, they always have been.   This is one of the greatest gifts of our relationship.  I hear horror stories about couples breaking up over their pets.  It was never an issue for us.  In fact, I believe it made him want to be with me more because of these two kitties.  You remember Sally Boy's story, right?

Sally Boy Kitty on the right.  He didn't find me until AFTER I got sober.

Do I feel guilty that I had to give her up for a while?  Of course I do.  Do I think she even remembers 12 plus years ago?  No I do not.  But I do know that when I look into those huge eyes sometimes, I see where we were back then and where we are now.  We have everything we could ever want and need.  I keep my past close, and she's a big part of that.  I don't regret the past, nor do I wish to shut the door on it.  I live my amends every single day I stay sober.  And a big one of those amends happens to be to one of my cats.  That seems pretty damn good to me.

Things I Love Thursday - Part 45 - Double the Gratitude

The Thing I Love this Thursday is - TWO BABIES IN MY BELLY!  

KABLAMMO!  Times TWO!

Let's talk about twins.  Let's talk about one boy and one girl.  Let's talk about going through CVS testing and finding out that both Baby A and Baby B are HEALTHY.

And, ONE BOY AND ONE GIRL! My brilliant idea is to name them Hall & Oates (the girl would be Hall, NAT.), but I can't seem to get Christopher to commit to that.  YET.

We had pretty much one shot here with the In Vitro. And we have gotten the best possible outcome.  I don't know how or why this happened for us and doesn't for so many others and as happy as I am, I also know the heartbreak that others feel as a result of it not working.  All I can say is, my heart goes out to you, I am teary even thinking about it.  Every time I think about it out loud with my husband, we just keep saying, "We are so very lucky."  And I won't stop saying that or believing that for the rest of our lives.  No matter what happens.  When you've been in the shit, You appreciate every damn gift that is given to you.  And I've been in the shit.  I don't regret any of it.   I am absolutely in awe of what is happening.  We can't quite believe it.   You hope for the best and prepare yourself for the worst.

We've been living in this limbo, as the doctors scared the ever loving shit out of us as we are "older" and twins run more of a risk for something being wrong.  So for these last three months, while we've been ecstatically happy to be pregnant with twins, we've been terrified and walking on eggshells.  We didn't know if we would have both babies with us.  We can safely say now that while we are not ever out of danger until they come out of me - and then there's only the rest of their lives to worry about - we feel much more confident that they are both hanging around for the ride.  

We had so much to be grateful for before finding out this great news.  We are the most grateful little family you will ever hope to meet.  I say this all the time,  I deserve nothing.  Life owes me nothing.  So every single gift I am given, I am so grateful for, it's completely overwhelming.  I don't deserve this. It is only through sobriety and doing the next right thing that I have every gift in my life.  Not quickly either.  It starts on the inside and it manifests in that great big smile and belly laugh you hear from me on a regular basis.  GRATITUDE. 

Now, let's talk about serious business from the front:

Complete and utter nonsense from the side:

The Tale of Vainglorious and the Bump

This is a tale of a woman who suffers from vainglory.

vain·glo·ry

  /ˈveɪnˌglɔri, -ˌgloʊri, veɪnˈglɔri, -ˈgloʊri/ Show S

noun

1. excessive elation or pride over one's own achievements, abilities, etc.; boastful vanity.

2. empty pomp or show.

Her name is, let's just say Katy, for the sake of keeping things simple, and really, I'm not that good at hiding things, take for example the fact that almost every g-d one of you knew I was pregnant before I made my big announcement.

Vainglorious? After 2 holes in one?  You bet your ass I'm vainglorious.

Katy is pregnant. And she is deliriously and incredibly happy and full of joy and gratitude to be pregnant after wanting to be for so very long. This is a happy tale of a bumpster baby growing to life in her belly and all that goes with it.

However, Katy is vainglorious. She had lost 35 pounds in the last year and worked quite hard to get her dietary habits and lifestyle changes incorporated into her entire being and now? Well, now, she has to eat all the damn time.

Almost 15 weeks along here.

She isn't fitting into her cute clothes because she has gained 10 pounds. This is wonderful and healthy and beautiful and don't think for one second that she is wishing it were otherwise, because that's not the case. AND THIS IS NOT COMPLAINING. It's feelings. And we all have these feelings, with the good, come the bad. It's the yin and the yang of being human.

All that Katy is feeling is natural for a woman. Just as feeling the highs are here so are feeling the lows. And the real question is WHAT THE HELL DOES SHE WEAR? OH MY GOD. Vainglorious? HELL YES. How does she still look cute and keep growing little bumpster baby the best of her ability when she cannot fast after a long vacation of eating everything in the Door County region of Wisconsin? SHE MUST KEEP EATING.

This is the difference today. In the old days of her stupid addictive thinking, Katy would stop eating altogether. Now, she must keep eating, but eating GOOD HEALTHY FOOD instead of just crap because she feels like eating crap. Another difference is that Katy exercises today. Not anything crazy, and fully protected by helmets and bubble wrap and water wings and fully hydrated, but something to balance out all the eating. IT IS HEALTHY.

This word people talk about M O D E R - A - T I O N. That word is something that dear sweet Katy knows nothing about, or she thought she didn't, as she is addicted to everything. Everything she has done to excess, she has had to quit. Except for one thing. That attitude of gratitude. She does that all day every day for every little thing she has and feels and gets to experience in life. Because as we all know damn well by now, she shouldn't really have these chances. These opportunities to be so overwhelmingly happy and sad and worried and grateful and stupidly laughingly hopeful about her future are all gifts that she was never promised, they were given to her as a gift for getting sober and for helping others to get and stay sober, her purpose for being on this planet. 

So, in all honesty, this vainglorious thing is helping her to have a healthy pregnancy and to help keep her head screwed on right. Just because there is a baby bump now, doesn't mean everything she's learned is thrown out with the bathwater. I know I'm not alone here, and anyone who wants to shame dear sweet Katy for feeling this way, for feeling human and like a woman who enjoys being all cute, well, you know where you can cram that nonsense.

The moral of this Tale of Vainglorious and the Bump? We all have feelings of vanity. If we can talk about it and not hide or feel ashamed of it, we will all be better for having done that. We don't have to turn into hermits who don't care how we look when we become pregnant and then mothers. At least I don't think that's what we are supposed to do. We want to feel good and look good for ourselves and in turn for our families. That is called BEING HEALTHY. And that can never ever be a bad thing for our children.

Cute and healthy and determined.  And BUMPY.

Let's encourage each other, not beat each other up and say things like, "Oh, wear that now because you will never be able wear that again." BITTERNESS. "Enjoy your time with your husband now, because he will never find you attractive again." EVEN MORE BITTERNESS. And, my favorite, "Wear those heels now, because you are doomed to a lifetime of flats once you have this baby." Ladies, I don't want what you are selling, as you sound miserable and I don't think your family would want that either. I WILL WORK MY ASS OFF TO STAY HEALTHY AND POSITIVE AND CUTE. There, I said it. And there is nothing stopping you from doing the same damn thing. I will be your cheerleader. We are all in this together.

And all the women lived happily ever after, in encouragement and love and not tearing each other down, but instead building each other up, with love and laughter and gratitude for all we have.

THE END. 

GUEST POST - Don’t Judge a Blog By Its Cover

Hi all! Big thanks to Katy for allowing me to guest post on her awesome blog. Since 99.9% of you have no clue who I am, let me quickly introduce myself. My name is Doyin (pronounced “doe-ween”) and I'm the author of the daddy blog, Daddy Doin' Work. I've only been at this for a few months now and the positive feedback I've received thus far has done wonders for my fragile self-esteem and ego. Additionally I'm learning that there are some not-so-positive aspects to this gig, and that is totally fine too. Oh, and by "not-so-positive" aspects, I'm not referring to the haters. Anyone who is worth a damn will embrace haters because they are the best indicator that you're on the right track with your chosen career. I'm talking about something a little different here. Let me explain.

My most popular and controversial post to date was one that reviewed why Stay-At-Home Moms (SAHMs) have the toughest job in the world. Some loved it, some thought I was off my rocker, and some were left completely confused. Let me spend a moment on the "completely confused" folks. They weren't confused because they didn't understand the concept I was trying to convey; they were confused when they saw what I look like.

Here are a few of examples of emails/Facebook message exchanges I had with people who were referred to my FB page or blog by someone. Please note, I omitted the non-essential stuff and changed the names to protect the, um... "innocent."

First was Laura. She's a white woman (probably in her 30's based on her Facebook profile picture) and we had the following Facebook message exchange:

Laura: "Hi there! I was so moved by your SAHM post. It was brilliantly written and it makes me feel validated as a SAHM. Quick question, who is the black guy on your page? Is he a professional athlete or model?"

Me: "Thanks for the kind words! That's a picture of me. Why do you ask?"

Laura: "Nice! It's so refreshing to see a black person who writes well and doesn't act all ghetto. I wish they were all like you. Keep up the good work!"

Debrief: First off, it never gets old to read that someone thinks that I look like a model or professional basketball player. However, our friend Laura hit one of my pet peeves squarely on the head. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I cringe whenever I see people who:

·        Say “that’s retarded” to describe something or someone that they believe is dumb or unintelligent.

·        Say “that’s gay” to describe something or someone that isn’t cool.

·        Say “that’s ghetto” to describe a behavior or something that isn’t of the highest quality.

If you’re above the age of seven, you should know better than to say these things. I’ll go out on a limb here, but I would bet a paycheck that Laura hasn’t been within 100 yards of a ghetto in her lifetime. Fortunately I’m not one to get offended easily so I brushed it off – but a memo to my wonderful white readers: Please don’t say things like “act ghetto” to a black person. Most of us don’t like that very much. All in all, I think Laura had good intentions and didn’t mean any harm by her comment. I could’ve done without the “I wish they were all like you” statement, but I’m willing to let that slide.

The second was James. Here's our email exchange:

James: "Hey there, great blog! Have any of your readers commented on how weird it is that you’re the author?”

Me: "I’m not quite sure what you mean. Care to explain?"

James: "No disrespect, but don’t you find it odd that a black guy who looks like a pro basketball player composed such a great piece about Stay-At-Home Moms? It’s definitely not what I expected.”

Me: "Just out of curiosity, what did you expect?"

James: "I don’t know…I'm just shocked that someone who looks like you writes so well."

Me: "So what does a good writer look like?"

***No response***

Debrief: The universal law states that whenever someone says "no disrespect," it means that somebody's about to get disrespected. Again, much love to James for thinking that I look like a pro baller, but I took issue with his comments. Why would my appearance have anything to do with writing an article about SAHMs? My mom was one, so if there’s a man who knows about the topic it’s me. I ended the exchange by asking him what a good writer looks like. Would I be more credible if I looked like Steve Urkel from Family Matters? Or if my skin color was a few shades lighter? By the way, aren’t these just words on a computer screen? Who cares what the person looks like who created them? I sure as hell don’t. Since James never responded to my question, I hope he’s thinking “Wow, it was pretty stupid of me to say that” instead of “What an idiot. How could he not understand what I’m trying to say here??” I guess I’ll never know.

The last one was Jackie. Here's our email exchange:

Jackie: "A friend referred me here. I think it's cool that you're writing a parenting blog about your daughter. You don't see that too often."

Me: "What do you mean?"

Jackie: "I work in the inner city, and trust me - black men never talk about their kids, especially their daughters. They're always too busy talking about rap music, smoking weed, or basketball. You can be the change they need."

Debrief: I have a fundamental problem with the words “never” and “always,” because there are, um…always exceptions. Maybe it’s just me, but I chuckled that Jackie believes she’s an expert on black people because she works in the inner city. I live in Los Angeles – does that make me an expert on pretentious, stuck-up, self-important skanks and douchebags? Well, I do know a lot about those things since I’ve lived here for ten years, so maybe she makes a good point there. Anyway, all of the black fathers I know (including my dad and two brothers) love their kids and don’t spend all day freestyle rapping, getting high, or playing ball. It’s a dangerous exercise to throw a blanket over a group of people like that.

Overall it starts with us as parents. We have to teach our kids “not to be dicks" and stop judging people based on appearances. Speaking of appearances, let's test something out: Check out the picture that I included for this post. Based on appearances alone - would you guess that this individual watched Finding Nemo over 25 times and sobbed uncontrollably at the end of each viewing? Would you guess that he's a Carly Rae Jepsen fan? Would you guess that he enjoys cooking more than playing basketball? When he’s not asleep would you guess that he spends 80% of his time smiling and laughing? Would you guess that writing is his favorite hobby? Would you guess that everything he does is centered around making his wife and 17-month old daughter happy? If your honest answer is “no” to any of these questions then you’ve probably fallen victim to the stereotypes that exist in society. I want to raise my baby girl to embrace diversity, because in doing so she'll realize that we’re a lot more similar than we are different.

In closing, I know that stereotypes still exist; even in the blogging world. I could be pissed off or frustrated by it, or I can be my best self and show the people around me that I'm just one of many educated, positive, black fathers in this world who put his children first. Maybe I'm just naive, but as a writer I want to be judged for my writing. I don't want any of this "You're a great writer for a black guy" shit. Additionally, I don’t write for just black people – I write for anyone who has kids, will have kids (like Katy), or wants to have kids. If you think my blog sucks, that’s cool. If you think my blog is epic, that’s even better. Just don't grade me on a curve or give me any patronizing props because of my skin color. It’s just nuts to me that it’s 2012 and race is still an issue with some people.

I hope I didn’t come off as an angry black man who wants to kill whitey. Anyone who knows me understands that I’m a teddy bear without an angry bone in my body. Also, I love whitey. Literally, I do – my wife is half-white and half-Japanese. My main motivation to share this story with you is so you can take a deeper look at yourself to see if there are any negative stereotypes that you subscribe to. If so, you could be missing out on a lot of cool people, experiences, and blogs that could make your short stay on earth all that more enjoyable.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to work on my freestyle rap album.

Doyin Richards shares his unique and hilarious adventures as loving new dad on his blog on Twitter at @daddydoinwork, and Facebook