Day 3

Day 3.... November 3.... oh boy...

Let me just say that I knew from the moment I woke up this morning that my day was going to be dificult. It could have been because I, for an unforseen reason, cried myself to sleep last night, like an emotionally disturbed child. It also could have been the insomnia that woke me at 3:30, 4:05, 4:48-- all uncomfortably before the alarm.... I could blame daylight savings time, but I know better......

November 3, 2007, I was in an ultrasound room with my husband, getting my hopes up for the greatest disappointment of my life. I was asked repeatedly "When did you say you were due? When was the first day of your last cycle? How far along are you again?" In the dead silence after the technician had left, my hubby tried to cheer me up, looking on the bright side. "Maybe you're measuring abnormally large, and we're having twins or something. Mikey and Madison, our little m&ms!" Again, I knew better. Less than an hour later, the doctor told me that "there were no signs of a viable pregnancy", to which he had to clarify that I would not carry to term. It took 5 days of pure isolation-- literally, I would see no one until I saw my mother-- tears that would not stop, comedies that did not make me laugh, ice cream straight from the carton that did not satisfy, and unadulterated anger with God before I began to come to terms with the fact that my baby was going to be leaving me. I prayed to get through the entire ordeal naturally..... and thought I had at one point, when I thought I saw what was left of my child in a crimson mess on my bathroom floor..... but a doctor later confirmed that I was wrong, and I had to go through with the d&c procedure... It has been 7 years since that dreaded ultrasound, and even now, as I write this, I cannot stop the tears from falling....

I managed to pull myself out of bed this morning, without too much effort honestly, despite the lack of sleep, and immediately attempted a smoothie to give me energy to face the day. To begin with, I actually tried the aryuvedic art of oil pulling. The health benefits of this practice are unmatched, from what I've researched, and people have told me that the oil actually doesn't taste that bad. Well.... to an extent, it didn't.... until I had been swishing it around for a few minutes, and then, with all due respect to you my friends.... they lied. I almost gagged after 6 minutes of viscous and now toxic oil being swished around in my mouth, and I had to run fo the kitchen garbage to cough it up before I threw up. Still, I suppose 6 minutes of that for the first time is a victory, as many oil pulling individuals can go up to 20 minutes several times a day. My hat is off to you all who can do that.

I began with a Purple and Green, a delicious smoothie that contains coconut milk, blueberries, spinach, avocado, cinnamon, and vanilla vegan protein. It was definitely amazing, thick, fresh, and luscious. It filled me up quickly, and I began my day. But, it wasn't long before other reminders of the season ahead came to me-- coupons for peppermint mocha coffee bleeping on my cell phone notification, letting me know that just a minute and a half up the road, the peppermint mocha was now in season.... and I caved, without any hesitation whatsoever. Then, as I was sipping on my wintry mocha bliss, I turned on my favorite christian artist Plumb-- as I went through her CD, I had completely forgotten about song #5, which was a song dedicated to all mothers who had lost children due to miscarriage or shortly after birth. And I sobbed all the way to work. I can truly say that I was grateful a cop did not pull me over, as the tears made it a bit difficult to drive. Although, and I hope this doesn't sound cocky, I think given the circumstances, I could have continued to cry and been let go.... but again, I digress.

My student was an absolute rockstar today. I couldn't have asked him to do better on his targets or socially. It was the best day he has had since he began in August. Still, even with such amazing accomplishment coming from my little corner of the classroom, it was impossible not to notice that most of the kids in the room were the age that Evan would have been this year... had he lived. I fought hard not to cry in front of them... I'm truly grateful that I managed not to. And as soon as my student got on the van to go home, I couldn't have run out of work fast enough to make it to my car and cry.... annnnnd, scarf down about 6 of the winter oreos (not to be confused with candy cane ones) that I had in my car from a previous shopping trip.... which brings me to my next destination-- counseling.

I was supposed to be going with Billy (or at least meeting him there) to discuss ways to handle my darling 4 year old's behavior. She, who has the need to seek out attention, has resolved to throw things, attack her siblings, and just in general, act like a brat. I love her to death, but good gracious! So, the plan was to meet so we could get on the same page.... and, but of course, he didn't show. This struck a nerve, big time.... again, flashing back 7 years, maybe a month after losing Evan, and I had become this clingy individual who needed so desperately to be held when I cried, to not be left alone, to need someone to help me heal from the loss of my baby. And, as opposed to getting this from my husband, I got told that I was too needy, that I was crowing him, that he needed space, that he would file divorce papers if I didn't back off a bit. Shocked, angry, and completely broken in that vulnerability, it came down to it-- even in death of our child, I couldn't depend on him to be there for me emotionally. And here we were today, again, dealing with the trouble of a child, and where was he? Sleeping at home. And I lost the bit of control I had for the day, and sobbed hysterically at the counselor... I owe her a box of kleenex..... and maybe some earplugs...

I came home, emotionally exhausted and drained, and the last thing I wanted to do was prepare something to eat. I went the leftover route, and took a bit of my creamy kale salad, and (still admitting today's failure), added some turkey loin to it, then tossed it in the tahini dressing. The kids now in bed, I have had the opportunity to write about my day, and though I am not proud of all of the culinary choices I made today, I cannot beat myself up over it. This journey doesn't happen overnight, and considering the plan was for me to go from the typical SAD to RAW overnight, I would say that I have made some very good improvements. Truthfully, I believe this journey will go further than 21 days, and I would like it to. The idea of this began as me losing weight to fit into a bridesmaid's dress for my friend's wedding in May of next year.... but honestly, the entire idea is about my health. And isn't part of my health including emotional health? And having the ability to write about my experience, the ups and downs of days like today, and the joy that comes from moving forward and getting past it, pushing through to eating better, making more conscious choices about sleep and exercise and meditating on the good parts of life-- this is all part of a transformation of health.  So, even though I haven't stuck to 100% raw like I planned to originally, I'm getting there. Maybe I will be by the end of the journey, and maybe I will like it so much that I never go back to anything processed. I don't know where I will end up yet with this. What I can say is that this day was hard, and I'm still here-- I made it through (maybe a few oreros for the worse, but I survived it).

Until tomorrow,

Savor and Smile :-)