acupuncture, meditation, outdoors, pregnancy loss, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

snapshots

thesolomamaproject

I am sleepy but at least wanted to say a couple of things tonight. In bullets. Because I’ve had a long workday and don’t know whether I can coherently collect my thoughts otherwise.

  • On Saturday, I went to get a pedicure with an SMC friend and it was so perfect because we could just nod at each other wide-eyed and say, “I know.” What is more comforting than that? I usually pick a dark burgundy but that day I went with a neon pink-orange. I stare at my toes fondly when my shoes are off.
  • My sister came over for dinner on Saturday night–I ordered a pizza and she showed up with kale and coconut water and mint chocolate cookie Ben & Jerry’s. I cried to her but the intensity of the sadness was waning. We also laughed–she told me stories about my nieces in Baltimore, like when almost-four-year-old E piped up at the table, “This lunch is FASCINATING!”
  • On Sunday, I took my 3-inch roots and too-long hair to the salon for a much-needed cut/color. I had her cut off 2 inches, trim the layers, and go back to my natural color FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE COLLEGE. This is a big deal. I started coloring my hair at age 21, going for an artificial raspberry but ending up with something that looked natural. For years, I used henna, then graduated to salons and color experimentation (strawberry blonde, red red, black cherry). And now, I’m a brunette. A bit golden brown with the lighter color peeking through, but to me it looks dark. To me, it looks like I am me. And it feels really important, like I am owning the me that was always underneath. Getting to know her in a new context. She likes bright nail polish.
  • It will be/is revolutionary to think about not having to worry about roots. I have been chasing them for 17 years! Also, I will save a lot of money. It’s kind of ridiculous that I’m stopping just in time to go gray. But I’m not gray yet, so let’s just watch it appear gradually like the sunrise.
  • Yesterday, I met my friend and trainer R for a regular training session. It was the first time since the day I got the positive test at the gym. I found myself back in all the same spots for the first time since that day: the bathroom stall where I peed on a stick, the back office where we jumped up and down. I was a little melancholy through the workout.
  • At the end of the session, I asked R if he had a client after me, and he said no. So I said,mockingly offended, then why aren’t you running with me? And he trumped me with: I am! Ha HA! So we ran! Through the glorious and glowing city at 6pm with the sun high in the sky, along the Embarcadero (first time running there since falling 2 weeks ago), along Mission Bay, up Potrero Hill (to the top), checking out the killer views and fancy houses, exploring around, back down through UCSF, 1.5 hours. God, I needed that run. Running renews me like nothing else. Grateful to R for making it happen and acting like he was going to surprise me all along whereas I sensed he decided on the spot. He knew I needed it and I think he needed it too after his first Father’s Day without his dad. It was a magical run.Image
  • Afterward, I met an old friend for dinner. Or, he drank tea while I ate several plates of food and drank pitchers of water and tea after all the miles I ran. I have found that while the whole SMC gig can be difficult for guys to understand (thus the cross-eyed look until they have time to process), every human I’ve spoken to about my brief but joyful pregnancy totally gets it and says all the right things.
  • Today is Day 7 already: I did therapy, acupuncture, meditation. Dr. Tran tomorrow. I am feeling better.
meditation, outdoors, pregnancy loss, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

moving through

thesolomamaproject

First, thanks to everyone who has called, emailed, texted, or come over to pull me off the couch. I realized today that I’ve been accepting calls but not initiating them, so if I haven’t called you back, it’s because I would probably cry anew each time and I feel like I’ve achieved some equilibrium. I really appreciate that you called. I heard from every single person I expected to hear from (even noticed a couple missing…hmm, what about C and the W’s…and then checked my work voicemail and there they were). I quite literally could not do this without you and have no idea how anyone does it with any less than an army of supporters!!! I am a very lucky girl.

For the last two meeting-filled work days, I kept up a minimum of productivity while working from home. At the end of the last meeting yesterday, I felt like I had just limped/crawled across the finish line of the work week and collapsed on the couch for a deep and disorienting two-hour nap.

I had dinner plans with my friend I. and her call came in when I was just emerging from deep, dark couch slumber–her idea was to go to the Cheesecake Factory followed by retail therapy at the mall. At first I was like, “Do you know who I am?” (i.e. a snob who hates shopping) but, somehow, the suggestion was kind of perfect. I tried to picture the polar opposite–the two of us sharing a bottle of wine in the dim corner of some neighborhood ethnic restaurant and somehow that was terrible. I just saw myself crying into the wine glass. Bring on the crowds, pumping music, uber-sized portions, and Union Square.

Of course, after two dinner-sized appetizers, we didn’t need dinner at all. That place is ridiculous. Two beers and I was soused. We then did some dress shopping for Rio (fun). My friend I. is a very matter-of-fact person–she’s a scientist, a commitment-phobe, and on the less emotional end of the spectrum–a good reflector of rationality. She empathized and remains greatly hopeful for my chances. She also has an older sister who just went through yet another failed round of IVF (several times, she has carried to 8 weeks, then miscarried).

Someone always has it worse, which is good perspective. But it doesn’t mean that whatever level of sadness you’re going through is any less real.

I feel the weight of it today because it’s Saturday and a lot of my plans have evaporated and I don’t have to keep my chin up for any reason. I have the usual boring shit to do: work I let slip last week, clean up, postpone jury duty, finally make a hair appointment as it has gotten out-of-control long with 3-inch roots. I absolutely need to get outside for a run. Then dinner with my sister (cue the waterworks).

I got Olga on the phone yesterday. She said something like, “there’s no way to know without having done the blood test earlier,” since, apparently, in her world, nothing really happens unless it is reflected in data from the lab. But she relented that it was likely a chemical pregnancy and I told her how important it is to me to know that my body is capable of getting pregnant, and she maybe got it, a little bit. I recognize that she was just the messenger, so we’ll leave it there.

More importantly, I am looking ahead. I have an appointment with my RE, Dr. Tran, on Wednesday to discuss my options for round 4. By then, I will be almost peeing on a stick.

And even more importantly than that, I just bought a ticket for two weeks on Lake Michigan with my family, best place on earth to endure the two week wait.

 

pregnancy loss, single mom by choice, SMC

my chemical pregnancy

thesolomamaproject

A little googling reveals the following definition on about.com:

‘A chemical pregnancy is like a cruel joke. You take an early pregnancy test around the time your period is due that shows a faint positive. Naturally, you get excited and start spreading the joyful news that you’re expecting. Then, a few days later you get your period and the doctor says, “It was just a chemical pregnancy.” Meanwhile, you’re left confused and possibly devastated. The term chemical pregnancy sounds like a false positive pregnancy test, as if you were not really pregnant at all. But the truth is that a chemical pregnancy was indeed a conception and is actually a very early miscarriage.’

In nutshell, the egg is fertilized and begins implantation but, for probably good reasons like genetic abnormalities, didn’t hang on. It’s called “chemical” because the hormone yields a positive on the test, but that’s about where it ends.

This sounds right to me, especially after reading account after account in online discussion boards of exactly what I just went through. In my case, however, the nurse did *not* say it was a chemical pregnancy; she said she just couldn’t figure out how I ever got two positive tests as I must never have been pregnant given my low beta. Still, it’s outrageous that she wouldn’t have even mentioned the possibility of a chemical pregnancy when it sounds like they’re extremely common (online research says that up to 70% of conceptions end in miscarriage). Most of the time, the woman isn’t necessarily monitoring her cycle with military precision, so a chemical pregnancy can appear to be merely a late period.

To humor nurse Olga, I did pull the test box out of the recycling bin and it lists the expiration as February 2014. I just don’t believe that two tests independently malfunctioned to produce two positive results. Especially when my now heavier-than-ever period arrived 3 days later than my longest-ever cycle (Day 31). I’m hanging on for dear life to the conclusion that I was pregnant. So, I’m basically done with what Olga thinks and have requested an appointment with the doctor.

Meanwhile, this blog isn’t about Olga. (I just feel so mad at her!) How am I doing?

As you know from this blog, if not from experience, it’s hard enough when it simply doesn’t work in any given month. Well, I just spent 5 days thinking, believing, sensing that I was building a human, from scratch. Feeling bewildered, ecstatic, anxious, thrilled, and all the emotions that go along with the magnitude of that. I felt calm. I looked like I swallowed a canary. Every day, I felt a little more certain that this was it–how could it not be? I’m healthy, tests are good. I even had smug moments–I figured it out! I got ‘er done! I joined the club! I looked at online pregnancy calendars, planning out my life. I moved another phase of problem-solving–OB referrals, ultrasounds, where will I store my leftover vial… Shit, I need to move out of this studio!

And in quiet moments, I sat with the poppy seed, and that was enough.

I am so grateful to my friend A who reminded me to enjoy every day of being pregnant. Even if it ends early (as it did once for her), no one can take away that experience of sharing the news with people you love–and how much more fun to say, “I am,” instead of “I was.”

I’ll never forget everyone’s reactions. I know next time they’ll be a little more hesitant (as will my own). It was really the best 5 days that reflected to me all the love in my life and in the life of my child to be. That little poppy seed brought me all that! What a powerful albeit tiny bundle of cells moving emotional mountains over here!!

I’m really sad. My head knows nothing super bad really happened, but my heart is grieving.

Thanks especially to my friend J who was staying with me this week and went from a joyful uncle to protective big brother in the space between Sunday and Wednesday. He did my expense report for me last night because it was due today and I couldn’t manage it…somehow one of the more poignant expressions of love in the past 24 hours.

And there have been so many expressions of love, all perfect, all welcome, even when people call or email or text to say that they don’t know what to say.

I’ve seen women grieve, cry, rest, gather themselves up, and try again, and that’ll be me.

My poppy seed will be remembered for teaching me all of the above.

pregnancy loss, single mom by choice, SMC

the cruel truth

thesolomamaproject

I did the blood test this morning. At lunch, I started spotting. Got the call this afternoon with the result: negative. Very negative.

No, it doesn’t make sense. You saw: I had a positive pregnancy test. I had another positive one the next day to make sure. The nurse says that if I were ever pregnant, the result would have been higher. (“Did you use an expired test?”) No! I bought it that day and used the Cadillac of pregnancy tests. I seriously thought it was practically impossible to get a positive if you weren’t pregnant. And I got two in a row!

My brain wants to quibble with the medical mystery side of this story but it doesn’t change the result. For whatever reason, I am just not.

And now I’ve dragged you all along with me. It was a lot more fun to share the good news. Fun to believe it for 5 days. Fun to feel all the love and good wishes, to think about the poppy seed. Why did Clear Blue play this trick on me? I will never know… but it just seems so bizarre and unfair and…cruel.

This feels like a bad dream the way the positive felt like a good dream.

The spotting is most likely my period as this would be Day 31. Unless the blood test is wrong and then I’m just firing everybody.

pregnancy, privacy, single mom by choice, SMC

shhhh

thesolomamaproject

Dear friends! In my haste to post my news, I didn’t specify that I’m not actually going public for 8 more weeks, which may have been unclear given that this is a public blog! But, for now, let’s keep it off of facebook and any other public forum. I posted a baby-related post today and was trying to speak in code but I see how it looked like a green light. I’m out of town on a business trip and don’t always have access to delete posts. It’s really important to me that my work colleagues not find out until I’m ready to tell them. I’m typing this out on my phone because it feels that urgent! Thanks so much for your messages and more soon from me after I’m home from this super-packed meeting tomorrow night! All is well here. Blood test Wednesday, follow-up test Friday. xo

pregnancy, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc

!!!!!!

thesolomamaproject

Last night, arriving home after work and then a nice dinner out with a friend, I sat down on the couch for my first undistracted moment in days. My nurse Olga at UCSF had emailed me at the end of the day, “Hi Katie,
I am about to leave the office but wanted to see if you checked a urine pregnancy test? Please let me know. Thanks! Olga”

In this whole trying to conceive process, I had not yet taken a pregnancy test, preferring to be informed instead by the arrival of AF. But as of last night, I was on the brink of the end of the two week wait, and still hemming and hawing about doing the actual test. Total resistance and paralysis. I talked to my friend C on the phone, spinning in circles about how my Walgreen’s burned down and therefore I just couldn’t figure out what to do next. She said, “OK, I’m just going to throw this out there and you can take it or leave it, but the practical side of me says: you’re going to go to bed, wake up, get a pregnancy test, and then do the test. Then you’ll know and can go on with your weekend!” Wide-eyed, I said, “OK! Yes. That’s sounds like a good plan. I’ll do that.”

I texted Ms. R: “Q: is it supposed to be first morning pee for preg test? If so, should I get it tonight?” She texted back, “I really think it doesn’t matter at all–you either are or you aren’t.” Right. I went to bed.

Woke up, put on my gym clothes, drove to Safeway for bandages for my poor knees, butter for a cookie mix for the SMC meeting (that didn’t happen), hand soap, and… a pregnancy test. The Safeway lady who opened the locked Family Planning glass case for me tittered as I reached for the Clear Blue Pregnancy.

I drove to the Y, arrived late, ran upstairs to tell my trainer R, “Give me five minutes!” ran back down to the locker room bathroom stall, peed on the stick, and, wouldn’t you know, it said “PREGNANT”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Blink! Blink!

You guys! I’m pregnant! OMG!

I ran upstairs with the stick, barely hiding it under my arm, interrupted R’s conversation saying, “Can we speak privately?” We went to an office and I held up my shaking hand to show him the stick that said, simply, unequivocally, “Pregnant.” We hugged and jumped up and down and I cried and hyperventilated and realized I had left my phone at home (of all days!) and he took a photo of the positive test (so I could make sure I didn’t dream it later):

Image

I used his phone to call my parents who were out to lunch with friends, and upon hearing the news my dad characteristically burst into tears and handed the phone to my mom. My mom basically did the same and I don’t even know what else I said but ended the call saying I’d better head back in to my training session. They shared a nice moment with their friends and everyone was teary and excited (some who don’t even know me, including neighboring tables)…so sweet!!!

I worked out while feeling like I was having an out of body experience on the moon and then rushed home to tell my sisters, who are together on the east coast. I said, “I got a positive test!” and they were excited and minutes later one of them pointed out I had not stated the words, “I am pregnant” but I’ve since worked up to that and after some phone calls it’s old hat. (ha ha, totally kidding, I can’t even believe these words are coming out of me and it might be a dream!!)

Then, of all times, there was a monthly meeting of SMCs, including some of the best friends I’ve made in this process (JJ, B, Ms. R., we missed you Cr!). Ms. R ran outside to greet me so I got to tell her first, which is fitting since she has been with me from day 1 and a HUGE support and we are pulling for her to stay on my schedule! I went in and got many hugs and happy gazes and felt sensitive about those who have tried so hard for so long and yet it mostly always seems like it’s happy news when a fellow SMC gets a BFP (big fat positive) because it means that it’s possible and real and can happen to any and all of us.

There were two little ones present, a 2-year-old and a 4-month-old present, both adorable, and I have to say I looked at them quite differently all of a sudden, as if I’d never seen little people before. One of the moms teared up with happiness for me, someone I barely know. It’s just too wonderful all these reactions!

This afternoon, I’ve been on the phone and have heard of tears and goosebumps and happy friends and family…I am SO GRATEFUL I CAN’T EVEN STAND IT! Please forgive me for the public blast–I wanted to tell everyone individually but I couldn’t wait another minute, and I know I’ll talk to everyone over time, I NEED you all over time. You all have been so supportive and views are spiking today so I know you’re impatient to find out this happy news! So there it is! Holy shit!!!

A few caveats for the record: it’s early. Let’s be really excited but keep it mellow. I appreciate all your good thoughts for the little poppy seed, who, if all goes well, will arrive in February 2013.

Love and gratitude and more love and happiness and shocked elation from me to you and on behalf of me and the little poppy seed. More soon xo

breakup, dating, running, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

scrapes

thesolomamaproject

I’m so appreciative that when I don’t write for a few days, I get nudges. “Hi! Time for blogging!” or “HOW ARE YOU?” or even “Well?????” Thanks for these implicit compliments (are you guys addicted yet?!) and for your support. It’s never a publicity stunt, just me trying to keep all the ducks in a row over here.

Today I went for a lunchtime run with lovely A along the Embarcadero. Every Thursday, we meet up in a total funk, change at the gym, burst outside into what always seems to be a gorgeous sunny day, and congratulate ourselves throughout the run for having the foresight and brilliance to schedule this recurring meeting in Outlook. We feel like a million bucks afterward. You wonder why people run? That’s why. Instantly, everything (and I do mean everything) is better.

Well, today we ran down past the ballpark, a grittier, emptier side of town, all the way to The Ramp, as far as I know the only non-touristy bayside outdoor restaurant in the city. We turned around to run back, and a little way up the road, I was talking, mistook a tree-root sized bump in the asphalt for a shadow, and totally bit it. The ground and I became one. I fell so fast that I didn’t have time to get my hands out and simply crashed and slid, for what seemed like a really long time.

When you finally stop and come to your senses, there’s always that scary moment of taking inventory. Let’s see… Two bloody knees, skinned elbows and left shoulder, cut and bruised left hand. Check, check. No broken bones. Phew! But now the blood is dripping, so… back to The Ramp to get cleaned up.

The really astonishing thing is that just about exactly a year ago, I took my first major tumble while trail running in the Oakland Hills, and I injured those exact parts of my body in the same places! I reenacted the same fall, only this time on asphalt (I don’t recommend this).

Last year’s fall was indicative of my new case of insomnia and brewing anxiety about my then-relationship that I didn’t yet understand. Today’s fall I blame entirely on the two week wait.

It just knocks me off balance, much as I try to keep everything rolling, happy, and healthy. I mentally added up all my waits to total 6 weeks out of the last 3 months, and even executing the math problem was powered by resentment. Quite apart from “I’ve only been trying for three months,” this process just takes a heavy emotional toll. Today is Day 25, the beginning of the end, and to answer your question, I’ve been doing OK (no crying) but I’m feeling a little sick of this mode, the repetitiveness of it, hard to shake that it could be just like this every time, that I’m leading you all on a wild goose chase. I’ve been feeling like AF is coming, and also like I’m a million miles from pregnant.

But, at the end of the day, I’m pursuing my dream. So that does go a long way.

I’m also feeling extra grateful to be on my own and not shackled to some lame dude. I went out again with unexciting guy. Guess what? He was unexciting. Some dear readers weighed in that they liked the sounds of him but I think there were two forces at play encouraging a misinterpretation: for one thing I oversold him as “cuter and taller than I remembered,” but notice I didn’t say “cute” or “tall.” Secondly, he was presented as a counterpoint to RV guy, whom I obviously should not have been pursuing, so it was easy for readers to root for his polar opposite.

I’ll tell you why I wont be seeing unexciting guy again: after two dates, he wouldn’t pass even the most basic pop quiz about me. Where am I from? Who’s in my family? Where’d I go to school? Where have I traveled? What’s my job? Do I play music? What are my hopes and dreams while on this blue marble? These, my friends, are questions that were not asked, because essentially no questions were asked. I compulsively filled the space that would otherwise have been silence (yes, I let a couple of silences go to see what would happen, and the answer is that it only brought more silence). Pair this with the texts I received afterwards: “Had another wonderful evening with you. Can’t wait to see you again!” Huh?!?! Who is this woman he’s interested in? Because he doesn’t know shit about me!

And so, we find ourselves back with a clean slate, bloodied and bruised, hopeful that all this holding out for a healthy, reciprocal, exciting, durable love will facilitate its arrival, in whatever form the universe decides to send it.

Meanwhile, I’m doing all my own stunts.

dating, depression, meditation, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

upward spiral

thesolomamaproject

I got a text the other night from an SMC friend who is also in the two-week-wait and had just run into her most recent ex-boyfriend, the one with whom she thought she’d be having a baby. He was out with another woman.

Reading her text took the wind out of me… I felt a visceral compassion because I’ve been there and there’s nothing like that particular encounter. The next morning, I checked in with her to see how she was feeling, and she was sad, heavyhearted, spiraling down.

We all know the downward spiral, right? One thing happens, and then another thing happens, or maybe one really big and terrible thing (like this) happens, and you’re set on a trajectory of feeling worse and worse (see my “meltdown” post of a few days ago). Sometimes it’s a relatively tiny thing that tips the balance (someone’s facebook post or an offhanded comment) and, next thing you know, you don’t know which way is up.

When you get into this mode, it’s like the terrorists have already won. They have convinced you, by launching a constant campaign of neg bombs in your brain, that your life sucks, that you made bad choices, that it’s too late, that you’re not good enough, that you don’t want what you have and don’t have what you want. They are relentless sometimes. But as soon as you start to believe them, it’s curtains. It snowballs. And then it spirals.

Here’s the beauty part: the terrorists do not speak the truth!!!! Hilariously, they are technically working “for” you and their objective (ironically) is to protect you–but their strategies are archaic! They are the army of our vestigial three-part brain with all of its conflicting survival strategies playing out at once! First, we have our snake-like and simple reptilian brain, known for its fight or flight response. Around that, the puppy-dog limbic brain, seeking love and nurturing and recording all episodes of emotional pain to avoid its recurrence at all costs. And, finally, the professor: the nonstop talker, the neocortex. Our intellectualization of everything, the “telling of the story,” the planner, the worrier, the omniscient narrator who is a bit of a wackjob.

On one hand, it’s a wonder that we can function with all of this going on, surviving in a modern society with caveman impulses running in the background. On the other hand, it’s a miracle that we’re here at all, and we wouldn’t be without these crazy, complicated, wonderful brains. We just have to learn how to keep them in check. It is my belief that this is a lifelong practice that we all bought into the minute we left our mother’s bodies (and notably we do so earlier than many mammals, in order to keep growing our big-ass brains outside the womb).

One of my favorite books, A General Theory of Love, offers three main strategies for getting on a more positive track and overcoming major obstacles to a happier life: medication, meditation, and cognitive therapy. All three have been greatly effective for me at various stages: medication to correct the chemistry that at times gets stuck on the unhappiness channel, meditation to find the inner peace and tranquility that is blissfully separate from all the commotion upstairs, and cognitive therapy to actually correct some of the automatic thinking that can send you off on negative spirals.

So, in gchatting with my friend yesterday morning, I said: what would send you on an upward spiral? Seriously: even just posing the question cheered us both up. In posing the question, you take charge in that moment: wait up! I’m actually running this show! I can choose to push myself in a happier direction! What are those things that consistently make me happy? Make a list: walking, sunshine, tea, coffee, slippers, running, watching the waves, napping, writing, volunteering, baking, friends, solitude. Do those things. And practice gratitude. Gratitude is like water on the wicked witch. Let me know if the terrorists don’t at least order a temporary cease-fire.

You can even be grateful for the wicked witches and the terrorists. Give them a big smile and a thumbs up.

Then, once you’re movin’ on up, just keep going!

biological clock, dating, parenthood, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

connection

thesolomamaproject

Well, I’m stuck tapping this out on my iPad as I didn’t feel like carrying my laptop to the bar but feel compelled to share how the evening went.

I got too late of a start leaving the office to meet RV guy, and ended up bursting into the bar 17 minutes late, out of breath and apologizing. He was all smiles and and already set up with his beer and chatting with people at the bar. I ordered soda with lime (thinking “I’ll explain this later”) and pretty instantly felt right at home catching up with him. Within the first 10 minutes or so, he referenced his live-in girlfriend (news to me)–the same one who traveled around with him for a year and a half in the RV before I met him. I had put her down in history as proof that he couldn’t be made to settle down no matter how much the woman literally and figuratively “got on board.” Now she’s in school and 40 and, in his words, “resigned” about their future (as in resigned to the uncertainty of their future), and they’re living in a 325 square foot apartment while he sorts out challenging tenant issues in the other units of this building he owns that have spoiled his time back in the city and make him crave the Sierras again.

Then he said he wants to sail around the world for 2-3 years, and I belly-laughed and told him I just love him and he will always be That Guy to me. Confirmation that he hasn’t, and probably will never, change, and it’s really a beautiful thing (and I don’t need to worry about where the girlfriend fits in even though that was my next question).

When the conversation turned to me, I laid the Solo Mama Project on him. His reaction was unexpectedly and hugely and vehemently supportive. I instantly saw the connection–here I am acting like him: empowered, independent, chasing my dream, going against the grain. He acted like I solved the mystery of how to acceptably procreate. We talked about it for a long time. Eventually we got to the meaning of life and he thinks it is to have fun and I think it is to experience love. Next thing we knew we’d worked through 4 plates of tapas, I’d had 5 soda waters to his 4 Racer 5’s, and it was after 9.

He gave me a ride home in his WAY-too-big-for-the-city pickup truck (looks like a pickup truck that ate a pickup truck), got out to give me a hug and a kiss and I have to say it was the most lovely night, warm breezes and a bright moon, and he is still not right for me but I felt loved anyway. For all my frustration with him three years ago, I admire the adventurous spirit of that boy and it was nice to feel that he also admires it in me.

anxiety, dating, single mom by choice, SMC, trying to conceive, ttc, two week wait

meltdown

thesolomamaproject

I need to make this brief because I must get in bed with Newsweek and read about Queen Elizabeth’s coronation 50 years ago. But first…

Total meltdown at band practice tonight! Out of the blue. I had such a peaceful and productive day that included meditation, a run of 70% energy (read: 11.5/min miles), nice homemade food, and I got a bunch of work done. But sometimes when I show up at band practice, I feel vulnerable, kind of like being around immediate family where your feelings are transparent. These ladies know me pretty darn well, and if something’s going to come up and out, it probably will.

We started out with strawberry shortcake and stories of all the kids…which is normally fine–not just fine, but welcome and fun and sweet to hear about, but for whatever reason it felt a little alienating tonight (maybe because my equivalent story was about hives). Then, our leader and songwriter EJ played a song ‘loosely inspired’ by ME of all people, and it was beautiful and poignant and by the end the tears were spilling over. I was touched and honored. I’ll post the lyrics here if she’ll let me. I loved the song. Then we rehearsed a song I hadn’t practiced, a suggestion was made about the violin part, and my confidence plummeted. I tried to hang in there but pretty soon the tears erupted like a volcano and there was nothing to be done but interrupt rehearsal with my big old crying spell.

My fellow banders read this blog, so I can keep talking about them like they’re here. I am certainly not the first bandita to erupt in a sea of tears–this is a family of six women and there have been many minor and major things to cry about over the years (4 years for me, longer for them). Also, of course, many things to laugh about and be silly about. Still, I felt embarrassed (despite the group hug and admonishments that “If we can’t cry here, where can we cry?”) and bewildered since I thought I was fine. But that’s why they call this a roller coaster. Or maybe more like Demon Drop.

Just when you think you’re OK, right?! But, thank heavens, the band is a safe space. So that’s where a lot of shit happens. I’m truly grateful for that.

A note on the date (I knew I wouldn’t get away with that total lack of summary): it was fun but unexciting. He was cuter and taller than I remembered–he’s athletic, smart, employed. He’s a divorced dad, which I didn’t know. He texted me beforehand and afterward with enthusiasm. He took a brief call during dinner. I asked him a lot more questions than he asked me. All of this to say: we’re having lunch on Monday. Is there anything less romantic than lunch on Monday?

Meanwhile, I’m scheduled to “have a beer” (without actually having a beer) with someone my friends will know as RV Guy tomorrow night. For those who have not heard of him, he can be summarized as Mr. Unavailable–but, newsflash, he no longer lives in an RV in the Sierras but actually bought property in SF. Has he changed his adventurous, rambling ways? Stay tuned to find out!