Getting pregnant just another glorious moment in a glorious life.
College zooming past: will finish in three years instead of usual four.
Summa cum laude.
Phi Beta Kappa.
And now a baby.
Four months along.
Husband works late, a waiter, a senior.
I’m not feeling up to our normal very late dinner.
He’ll bring himself something from work.
Not doing my duty, leaving him alone to eat dinner.
Can’t wait tonight.
A little crampy.
Just want to be quiet.
Wake into the cool dark damp.
Didn’t hear him come in.
Can’t see the clock.
Got to get to bathroom.
Slide out of bed without waking him.
He an edgy sleeper.
Ow! My hand slamming against my belly to stop the severe cramp.
The walls help me to the bathroom.
Turn on bathroom light and sit heavily.
Contractions. Active. Strong.
Come to, looking up into husband’s face.
Reaching for my shoulders.
Me on the floor between the bowl and the wall, they collaborating to fold my shoulders forward into each other.
He has trouble finding purchase between my arms and shoulders.
I lift my hands for him to take.
Try to pull myself.
He pulls me forward of the corner and then slips his hands under my armpits.
Lifts me to a sit.
I use the bowl and the wall to help his hands and am able to sit on the bowl, the cover down somehow.
I feel the vibration and hear the bowl flushing. What? I wonder.
“Yes,” to whether I’m okay to sit alone for a moment.
He returns with my winter coat and I am walking with his arm around my waist.
Very cold; very dark.
He opens the new car door and guides me into the seat.
The car is cold.
The drive is quiet and heavy.
He utters a series of “We’ll be there in a moment,” assurances.
Something very bad has happened.
All the king’s horses…
I begin to cry.
And I cry.
And the doctors are going to see me all messed.
And I cry.
Confusion at the hospital.
Husband taken from me.
Telling me what I already know.
But I’ll be okay.
I’ll be okay?
I’ll be okay?
I close my eyes.
Go away, I think.
Alone finally in a room.
Husband comes in; sits on bed; finds my hand.
We stay hugging for a long time.
Gently, feeling fragile.
We don’t use words.
The crying and holding suffice.
We stop and he kisses my hands.
“Anyway, newborns look like prunes,” he says.
We cry again.
Friday, December 14, 2018
My 246th consecutive posting, committed to 5,000.
Time is 12.01am.
Boston’s temperature will reach a high of 44* with clouds.
Dinner is chicken cutlets. Am showing Lauren how to make them.
Question of the Day:
What is a miscarriage?
Love your notes.
Contact me @ email@example.com
A potpourri from Sally:
"Winter pale" is something I understand - I have it year-round.
By summer's end, I have about as much "tan" as everyone else has before summer starts.
Even at living history reenactments, when I'm out in the sun all day, the face in the mirror at day's end usually fools me thinking I got some "color," but it's only dirt and washes off.
Although fair-skinned, I don't even sunburn readily.
My mother and I are founding members of the Blue Leg Society, from our skim-milk blue legs.
My mother suns her legs daily in the summer at her island house in Maine, yet they remain that deathly pale color. (At least we aren't card-carrying members of the blue-hair society of older women who spend too much time at the hairdressers.)
So be it.
What a delightful surprise awaited me at the Saugus Salvation Army store yesterday, when perusing the books, to see my friend - you - smiling at me from a tiny photo on the spine of a book called "Dom's: An Odyssey."
Of course I snapped that up.
I can't say that it's even been read before, it has such a new feel, but it will be read now.
A very good photo of you on the back, although you look so serious!
Maybe I'll remember to bring it to one of our critique group meetings for you to sign.
I didn't sell one book last night at the Peabody Barnes & Noble Meet & Greet that Colleen organized, but I met a number of people (some of them fellow writers), at least one of whom may well be significant adviser for my upcoming project, including a Wakefield fellow who sold our house to us.
I hadn't seen him in years, then we ended up sitting next to each other on the shuttle bus for Wakefield's Fourth of July Parade this year, he marching with the veterans.
Also a retired police office, which I did not know.
A deeply pleasant soul - another Italian by the name of Sam Stella. Perhaps you know him.
The book bash event was only as well organized as Colleen made it.
The Barnes & Noble staff knew nothing about it, the person whom Colleen arranged it through wasn't even there, and the store had not put up a single flyer or poster or anything to advertise it.
I have no idea if they did any advertising online - with the lack of awareness of the staff, I rather doubt it.
After that lack, I don't believe they earned 40% of the authors' book sales.
So, as I didn't sell one book, the event didn't cost me anything, either.
B&N received 40% of $0.00 from me.
The time spent was not a waste, though, because of the others I met and because I found a book on Lincoln that we don't have in our library, as a Christmas gift for Phillip, about Lincoln's pre-presidency development into a notable figure.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I haven't much to say yet about the new job, since it doesn't start until next Monday.
But I am quite excited about it - the shorter commute and the better pay are major factors for celebration.
(Ain't complaining about the pay where I've been here - it's quite reasonable for the field - but I'm not one to refuse any improvement in my finances.)
I'm also hoping to finagle a day a week off to focus on my writing projects - this next one is too important to me to allow it to languish - but I am advised to get settled into the new position before I broach the subject.
It's all good!
All that talk of fancy food makes me reflect on the simpler fare of the peasant-style food I usually prepare. (Not that either one has anything to apologize for ...)
Today's lunch was the last of Saturday's roasted root vegetable medley.
Beets, parsnips, onions, sweet potatoes, rutabaga, carrots, Brussels sprouts, whole cloves of garlic (LOTS!), all tossed with onion soup mix and olive oil, some black pepper, basil, and minced turmeric root, with a liberal dollop of toasted sesame oil, and laid over with a pound of sliced bacon, roasted for 3.5 hours at 300 F.
Web Meister Responds: Careful with the tanning. Am expecting a chastisement soon.
Hope you enjoy my memories of the restaurant.
I had a lot of fun writing it.
While the book is available here, look on the website under Books, I’m sure you got that one at a bargain price.
Good luck to that.
As to knowing another Italian, I’ll bet there are two dozen living in our state whom I have never met.
Love the food sharing. I can smell it.
So much good stuff in this letter that I insist on your keeping us apprised of it.
Love you, girl.
Answer to Question of the Day:
What is a miscarriage?
Miscarriage, also known as spontaneous abortion and pregnancy loss, is the natural death of an embryo or fetus before it is able to survive independently.
Some use the cutoff of 20 weeks of gestation, after which fetal death is known as a stillbirth.
The most common symptom of a miscarriage is vaginal bleeding with or without pain.
Sadness, anxiety and guilt often occur afterwards.
Tissue and clot-like material may leave the uterus and pass through and out of the vagina.
When a woman keeps having miscarriages, infertility is present.
Risk factors for miscarriage include an older parent, previous miscarriage, exposure to tobacco smoke, obesity, diabetes, thyroid problems, and drug or alcohol use.
About 80% of miscarriages occur in the first 12 weeks of pregnancy (the first trimester).
The underlying cause in about half of cases involves chromosomal abnormalities.
Diagnosis of a miscarriage may involve checking to see if the cervix is open or closed, testing blood levels of human chorionic gonadotropin, and an ultrasound.
Other conditions that can produce similar symptoms include an ectopic pregnancy and implantation bleeding.
Prevention is occasionally possible with good prenatal care.
Avoiding drugs, alcohol, infectious diseases, and radiation may decrease the risk of miscarriage.
No specific treatment is usually needed during the first 7 to 14 days.
Most miscarriages will complete without additional interventions.
Occasionally the medication misoprostol or a procedure such as vacuum aspiration is used to remove the remaining tissue.
Women who have a blood type of rhesus negative (Rh negative) may require Rho(D) immune globulin.
Pain medication may be beneficial.
Emotional support may help with negative emotions.
Some recommend not using the term "abortion" in discussions with those experiencing a miscarriage in an effort to decrease distress.
Miscarriage is the most common complication of early pregnancy.
Among women who know they are pregnant, the miscarriage rate is roughly 10% to 20%, while rates among all fertilization is around 30% to 50%.
In those under the age of 35 the risk is about 10% while it is about 45% in those over the age of 40.
Risk begins to increase around the age of 30.
About 5% of women have two miscarriages in a row.
Good morning on this Friday, December 14, Christmas now only 12 days away.
Today we talked about a personal experience with a miscarriage and read a potpourri of Sally-observations. Fun, she, especially after giving me a chance to plug my book on Dom’s and the North End.
And then we read a medical piece from wiki on miscarriages.
Che vuoi? Le pocketbook?
See you soon.