The third miscarriage

I  never talked about it. In fact, the only other person that knows is the spouse, and I think he seriously doubts it really happened. Me too, because it was kind of surreal, and that it happened when we were not even trying to get pregnant. I'd been off the pill though, with my period more or less coming once in a while but without me really tracking it. And then it did not come for almost two months, and when it came, it came with a vengeance, that is, with heavy bleeding, some weird membranes and some cramps.

I was numb. I examined the membranes without really wanting to, and then I threw everything in the toilet and decided to go back on the pill. I tried very hard to forget it and not talk about it.

Still, today, with a friend, I talked about  my three miscarriages, not my two miscarriages... so I guess deep down I am really counting the incident as a third miscarriage. But does it  really count? I guess I will never know. It cannot be good, when something like this happens and you just brush it off and ignore it for months.

A new milestone

Guess who walked into a Babies R' Us today and actually enjoyed her shopping experience? Well, perhaps  enjoy is an exaggeration, but at least I did not hate it as much as I expected. I am sooo proud of myself... I bought a layette, a tiny dress and a couple of bibs, one of which is embroidered with two flowery owls and it says: "I love my Aunt".

All these are gifts for my sister in law, whose baby was born today. I am green with envy and crying with relief at the same time. Please note that I did not buy a single gift until the baby was born. This was a scary pregnancy with several ER visits and many months under the equivalent of house arrest, culminating with a C-section. I know a healthy baby is the best gift ever, and all my sister in law was hoping for. Still, knowing how horribly wrong this could  have ended, because I've been there myself, I feel that the mother really deserves something special. Any ideas?

Not loving myself lately...

People who are never depressed think depression is something you can easily snap out of. As if being depressed were something you were doing to yourself.

Well, I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing. I'm exercising, I'm eating well, I keep up with my hobbies... The only part that I'm finding very difficult is having a social life.

I tried to join a knitting group a few months ago, but decided it was not for me. A lot of knitting women are stay at home moms who knit too many baby items. They also talk a lot about their kids.

Did I mention before that I joined a book club? The books we read are good, but half the women in that club never read them, and those that do complain a lot about how horrible, ugly, difficult, boring, disgusting etc. the books are. Then they talk about their kids.

There's one other social activity I actually enjoy much more, since it involves practicing a foreign language in a small group, mostly retired seniors. I showed up today, pretending everything is normal, and someone said: "Oh my God, are you OK? What happened to your face?" I've been trying to ignore the mirror lately, but I guess my eczema is getting really out of control. Then again, it gave me the opportunity to make it clear that it's OK to sit next to me because it is not contagious.

I came home and cried a lot, which only made my eczema worse. But it also made me realize that mothers obsessed with their children don't give a shit about somebody else's face and hands being covered by red, scaly patches. Maybe for now I should stick with women who'd rather talk about their kids, and not about how ugly and disgusting my face looks.

My depressing little corner

Apparently, I don't feel like blogging when all is well, but as soon as stuff starts happening, here I come again. Pitiful, really.

So rather than complain about what is not going well, which is not that significant anyway, let me tell you I've really enjoyed the opera season this year in San Francisco. Additionally, I went to two operas in San Jose, and I even drove to Sonoma to see the Yankee Diva live (which makes it *FIVE* times that I see her live! Woooohooo!) And I can do all these things because I am not saving money for sending any kids to college, and I don't need a baby sitter, and so I have the time and the money to bring beautiful things into my life (or rather, haul my ass to where beauty is happening).

By the way, I've yet to see a fat lady with horns and braids on stage. I just chose that image because I know this is what pops into people's minds when they think about opera. When I saw Die Walküre I got a very modern production, with paratrooper Valkyries descending from above.

This Saturday I'm going to the opera again. It's going to be my third Tosca, and it will also be the third time I get to see Angela Gheorghiu live.

I like Tosca. Opera is full of stupid female characters who let stupid and horrible things happen to them. Horrible things happen to Floria Tosca too, but hey, she's willing to do something about it, fight back, get her hands dirty, kill the bad guy if necessary... oops, spoiler there.

Anyway. I've been thinking that those of us who are childfree not by choice tend to pour ourselves into a hobby, or a craft, or traveling... It's not a substitute for the children we don't have, it's simply happens that there are things we enjoy doing, and we do them because we can. Why not?

Over the counter stuff not intended for eczema

It seems that I´ll make it to three years without a manicure, since the eczema patch on my left hand is not going away. I've decided not to gripe too much about it and instead share some of the crazy eczema remedies I sometimes use.
Yes, Carmex, the lip balm intended for cold sores and the like. It calms the itchiness almost right away, better than many over the counter itch remedies. One problem I have with anti-itch gels and creams is that, if the skin is broken, they cause a horrible burning sensation. And my eczema patches crack easily, even without scratching them. The skin is so dry that it feels almost like cardboard. Carmex takes away the itch without any unpleasant burning first. The only con is that it is extremely greasy. So applying that stuff on my hands means leaving greasy fingerprints everywhere. But when I can't stand the itch, having greasy fingers is a minor disadvantage.

Monistat anti-chafing gel is a good alternative for lubricating the skin without leaving it all greasy. I like to wear it under my latex gloves at work so I don't get any further irritation. At first I worried that  I might be causing even more dryness, because this really feels powdery, but after more than a year of using it  under my gloves my only regret is the Monistat name. Keeping this in my drawer raises a few eyebrows. Also, it is not easy to find. Mostly it is sold next the yeast infection treatments but I also found it once next to shaving needs. Sometimes it is not stocked at all and I fear for its disappearance. Luckily, I've been always able to find it in amazon.

Finally, here's a remedy that I like to apply when the skin is very dry and has started to crack. Once it is open, anything I apply to it is very painful. But this ultrapure lanolin does not cause any pain. I apply it at night right after witch hazel extract, put on a cotton glove, and when I wake up, the skin is much more flexible and feels less dry. I wish I could apply it during the day, but if Carmex is greasy, this is equivalent to lard. Sometimes I come in contact with a new soap or a new household cleaner that causes an unbearable burning sensation. I like dunking my hand in ice water when it happens, but I apply my corticoid cream first followed by lanolin to keep the cream from dissolving into the water. My only issue with this remedy is that it is found among breastfeeding aids. This means I have to go through aisles of baby products in order to find it. Never a pleasant experience, but I don't have to do it very often.

The visitors

Lately life just does not want to be blogged. And so a whole month went by with no posts.

Not that there weren't things going on. A couple of operas, a few movies, a couple of concerts. Plus lots of things to learn in the new job.

Last week something worth blogging did happen: I was visited by the Little Beast (5 yrs old) and Mr. Octopus (2 yrs old). They and their parents stayed with us for four days.

It was better than I expected, given their nicknames (I did not come up with those). In fact, we had lots of fun, with not a single incident regarding vomiting, food spilling or breaking any valuables. The yellow dog was stressed out for about 5 minutes, and then moved on to happily play with the little guys, who were great with following instructions on how to interact and play with her.

They left last Sunday and the sense of vacuum was unbearable.  Even worse, I had once more the urgency to fill up that vacuum and start shooting artificial hormones again. To say I was depressed is an understatement.

I am  better now. The fact that I am still washing sheets and putting stuff back where it belongs helps me realize that it's nice to clean only after myself, the spouse and the yellow dog. If I had a couple of kids I would not be enjoying a Netflix movie with a beer in my hand at 9:30 on a weekday, with a mountain of clean laundry in the middle of the guest room, still waiting to be folded and put away.

The non-mom at the workplace

A new job means signing  up for new benefits. I will not be enjoying many of them, like discount tickets to kiddie stuff, discounts for daycare, the possibility of adding children to my medical insurance, money towards IVF, money towards adoption... wait, that one is still a possibility, right?

It's OK. Nothing is being taken away from me. Reading about it brings me some sadness, but that's nobody's fault.

What I can't stand, though, is the assumption that I can take just any shift or work overtime on a short notice. They can't really ask if I have kids or not, but they have probably guessed by now that I don't. I had to hear how X, Y and Z have flexible schedules in spite of them being parents of young kids... Well good for them. It still does not mean that I have to be as flexible as they are. Why does that make me feel selfish?

I've been there before, putting up with students who never left the lab on time because they had not finished their work. I had to stay late and deal with their rudeness and clean up after them, while my co-worker left on time because she had to pick up her kid from daycare. Nobody cared if I had tickets to the opera or plans for dinner. And I was never paid for overtime.

Anyway. My schedule is weird but I'll survive. And if the need arises, I hope they don't pressure me too much into volunteering for extra work. At least here I am guaranteed overtime pay.