Conversations with a 10 Year Old and One Rough Day!

So, my daughter turned 10 last weekend, and we had this conversation on her birthday.

She is very concerned that other kids think she is weird.  She doesn't want to draw any attention to herself because she's afraid people will think she's not normal.  I don't believe there is any such thing as normal.  We are all unique.  As we grow up, we come to appreciate others for their unique personality traits.  I used the example of a good friend of mine, Jo, who my daughter has known her whole life.  I said "Do I like Jo for all the ways that she is like everyone else?  Do I like her because she's so normal?"  When I put it this way, she could see how it is those unique personality traits that we come to love in our friends, these are what draw us to people.  All the kids her age are trying their best to try to be like everybody else, going around trying desperately to be normal, and sooner or later they're going to realize that there is no normal, and it is much cooler to just be yourself, which looks different for all of us.  It seemed like I was getting through to her.  I told her that once one person decided to stop believing in normal and just be themselves, then maybe that awareness would spread to the other kids, and they would start feeling free to be themselves as well.  This concept, I'm not sure she understood, but we both walked away feeling better.

Then today came.  I had to take my daughter to an appointment on the far side of the city.  It would take all day.  Today is day three after my miscarriage, and I am still passing blood clots and some tissue.  But such is life.  I'm not feeling too bad.  So I went into Staples first, and suddenly I felt a gush of blood.  Sure enough, there was blood everywhere, my pants were soaked, and I hadn't even brought my purse into the store.  This was the first disaster.  Feeling a bit nauseous and lightheaded, I got in my car and drove (probably not a good idea when you are loosing so much blood) to my sister's house.  No one was home.  I sat in my car outside her house, and since it was cold, I let the car run with the heat on.  Then my car started to sputter, and it dawned on me that I had meant to fuel up before leaving the NW.  Not only that, but when I looked for my wallet with my gas money in it, I discovered that I had forgotten it in Staples.  I was out of gas, and now my car wouldn't start.  Great, so now I am sitting in my car, bleeding, out of gas, with my baby sleeping in the back, and soon it will be cold.  And for those of you who don't know, I don't have a cell phone.  I pleaded to the universe to send me some help, which was all I could think of to do at the time. 

I saw a car driving towards me and thought it might be my sister coming home.  No, that car had a headlight out.  My sister would never drive around with only one headlight.  In fact, she would never find herself in this predicament at all.  No, my sister does the right thing.  She's not a space-brained mom who drives around in precarious old beaters with no cell phone, running out of gas on cold days, with her kids in the car, showing up at her sister's house unannounced with bloody pants.  In fact, it seems she hardly has any problems at all.  This, I find very frustrating.  Not that she has no problems, but that I seem to have all of them.  As I watched the one headlight car drive past me, I wondered what the hell is wrong with me, and why can't I seem to get my shit together like everybody else.

Then I remembered the conversation I had a few days ago, with a 10 year old girl concerned with being normal.  I guess that feeling affects us all to some extent.  Eventually, my sister and brother in law came and helped out my sorry ass, and I was back on the road in enough time to get my wallet back and pick up my daughter. In the end, what I hope my daughter realizes, is that her real friends and family love and accept her for who she is, including all her faults and idiosyncrasies.  Admitedly, there are some ways that I am downright weird.  :)  The biggest challenge is learning to love and accept ourselves.

It feels like labor.  A miscarriage.  That's where I'm at right now.  Dull cramps in my legs have become periodic tightenings of my uterus.  It's not super intense, but I breath through them.  I expand my belly with each inhale.  It's a labor trick, relaxes the surrounding muscles and makes it hurt less.  And, like labor, the more relaxed I can stay, and the less upset or stressed, the faster it will all be over.  Not getting upset is hard when you're miscarrying.  The tightenings come in waves and I breath.  "I am neutral. I am the earth."  I imagine my body lying flat in the soil, arms spread.  I am woman, and this is the cross we bear.  This happens more than we think.
I am sad, but not totally surprised.  My cervix was low and a bit flat, with a line instead of a dot, whereas typically in pregnancy, the cervix will be high and shaped like a nose, moving forward and thinning out towards the end.  But this past week when I checked, it seemed to have moved back and changed shape, so I started to suspect that the danger had passed.  But then last night, I started spotting.  I went to bed, and woke up at 2:20.  Now, two hours later, I feel my body bearing down.  I'm glad it's going fast.
I was only 8 weeks pregnant.  It is much worse for women who miscarry further along in their pregnancies, or for those who have very tramatic experiences during their miscarriage.  It was certainly worse for me the first time around (this is my second miscarriage).  I had a sneaking suspicion this pregnancy might not work out, and I promised myself I wouldn't be heartbroken if it didn't.  The timing is not ideal.  My daughter's 10th birthday is this afternoon.  I just hope I'm well enough to go.  Life doesn't stop because I'm miscarrying, which is another cross that women bear.  We still have mouths to feed, and duties to attend to.
But I suddenly had a gush of blood, and now I am lying in a rather large pool of it.  So I suppose that is all I can write for now.