Bring in ‘da Poop

Benefiber, I love you: you make me poop!

You and all the fruits and vegetables in the world making their way through my bowels. 

A call to the doctor’s office brought up the possibility of suppositories if the pipes did not get moving as they should, so as you can imagine, this girl is out to avoid that at all costs.   Keep bringing ‘da funk!


What Ails Me

My head is not my friend. My nose is not my friend. They work alone and more often in tandem, wreaking havoc with monster migraines and stuffy sinuses.  Bitches.

Aleve and Imitrex have been my saviors, but since it’s time to conceive, I must bid them adieu.  Cry.  (The Topomax I took to control the migraines?  I gave it the boot months ago.  Not sure it was doing much anyway, other than contributing to ten pounds of weight loss.  Thanks a lot).

So I guess I’m only left with “natural remedies.”  This week, I’m giving a neti pot a try.  Because there’s nothing more natural than pouring salt and water in one nostril and watching it come out the other.

Neti Pot

I don’t know that I’m ready to give it a whole-hearted seal of approval, but I’ll admit I felt my nasal passages open a bit after yesterday’s go. (And any little relief is welcomed.  My left nostril was so clogged, I poured forever before any water could even break through.  Yeah, that bad).  Of course, the whole thing also felt super F U N K Y, so it’s touch and go for now. But hey, if it’s the only thing I’ve got, I’ll give it a whirl.

I could have sworn that those few weeks I was pregnant, I felt better, as far as head and nose go.  A girl can dream.  If so, the cure to my pains may just be nine pregger months.  Well, except for the nausea, the constant peeing, feeling hot all the time,….

Eat Your Veggies

To eat meat or not to eat meat: that is the question, and I’m not the only one asking.  The issue seems to be all over television (Oprah goes on 21 day cleanse!) and the blogosphere (blog titan Dooce giving the cleanse a go, too).

I admit it’s on our minds as well, and I hope not just because the topic is so much in the air.  At my mother-in-law’s one past Sunday I took one look at Craig’s miserable face as he picked at his piece of chicken (bone in) and just outright blurted: “Maybe it’s time to give up meat.”  And guess what?  He didn’t say no.

Craig’s father is a devoted — and I mean devoted — vegan. Sufice it to say that the man hasn’t just saved a steak from his table: he has saved entire cows.  They live with him now and play games on his farm.  No joke.  And though neither of his sons has started an animal sanctuary of their own yet, it wouldn’t surprise me if kindness toward animals turned out to be genetic.  My brother-in-law takes in strays.  My husband would, aside from me I like to think, choose animals over people any day of the week.  I do not exaggerate.

So why are we still eating meat?  It’s easy to, me thinks.  It’s everywhere.  It’s relatively inexpensive.  And unlike the animals, we’re human.  We’re selfish.

Plus there’s the whole trying to have a baby thing.  Only a few pages of my new reading material talk about the vegetarian mom-to-be: 

Eating Well When You\'re Expecting

I know it can be done, but getting enough protein and iron will take some imagination.  How creative will I be when my head is down a toilet?  

Maybe it’s the kind of thing we could take on one day at a time.  Kick the chicken habit one day.  Red meat the next.  The outright vegan thing?  I’ll admit, I don’t see that happening…I mean, cheese, how will I ever forsake thee?  Hats off to those that do, hats off.


It’s possible I overdosed on Discovery Channel programming this weekend, but all those Mystery Diagnosis shows seemed to call me like a moth to a flame.  It’s a fine line, being generally fascinated by learning about all the things that can ail us and the wanting to know so we can prepare for the worst when our children come.  At least with me it is.  The more stories I hear, the more convinced I become that good health is truly a miracle. 

Craig and I skated on Saturday, one last hurrah (we hope) before a baby belly prevents fun things like perilously gliding on ice.  I spent almost every weekend of my 12th year ice skating, but even then, I always skated cautiously.  Craig has only skated ice twice before, and there he was, skating backwards, crossing feet, gliding elegantly. 

If there is a gene for over-worrying, I hope it’s not hereditary.  Out on the ice, we spoke of a brave daughter who would not be a scaredy cat like me.  Watch her lace her skates up and take off like a bat out of hell.  I’ll have to teach her the benefits of a healthy fear of danger.  And I’ll sit on the sidelines, worrying my pretty little head off.  This time, for her.

Itchy & Scratchy

As if my girl parts hadn’t been through enough already, I had to contend with a yeast infection this week, too. Lovely.

At least now you can check what’s cooking “down there” in the privacy of your own home. Thank you Vagisil!

I don’t know if there’s any correlation between miscarriage and yeast infections. I only know that, with absolutely no scientific evidence to support it, I’m blaming the condoms, that’s what.

The Newlywed 10

I’m actually looking forward to this “Newlywed 10” my last issue of Modern Bride talked about. It’s almost three months since my wedding and the scale still lingers somewhere around 112 lbs, which at 5’7, ” according to this chart, makes me “underweight.”

I ignored Dr. S at my pap smear last year when he uttered “starvation mode,” but after our miscarriage, I wonder if fat (or lack thereof), of all things, somehow betrayed me.

I’m putting the rest of my eggs (pun intended) in the University of South Carolina study basket that says “ninety percent of underweight women who had previously been unable to conceive managed to become pregnant when they reached their ideal weight,” even though conception itself was not the issue. I’ll take hope, and ten more pounds, wherever I can get them.


I haven’t used maxi pads in…well, over a decade, if not longer.

Last Thursday, expecting the worse, we brought home plenty of them. Things never got terribly bad, but adding insult to injury, those pads still succeeded in making me feel like an awkward 14 year old all over again.