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Around this time last year, I was having my worst bout of OCD in a long time. It was even worse than what I’ve been experiencing lately. We had just settled in to a beachside hotel for a few days, as The Man was attending a conference, and The Boys and I were supposedly going to have a little family holiday, sharing what we could of it with The Man in between conference obligations.
I ruined it. Or, my body did.
What began as a “period” turned into something else. I still wonder if I was actually experiencing an early miscarriage. Suffice it to say, I was miserable, I spent way too much time in the shower, or crying, or both, and I was horrible company. I couldn’t even complain about it online, since the exorbitantly expensive hotel WiFi didn’t even work in our room.
I tried. I really, truly wanted The Boys to have a fun time. And I think, for the most part, they did. They still look back fondly on that holiday and ask once in a while about going back. I even considered doing just that, even for one night, this year - a little family holiday before this baby comes.
One year ago, I was praying that I would wake up and find myself “normal” and enjoying the break with my family. I alternated that prayer with the one that asked that the haemorrhaging would be so bad that I would have to go to the nearby hospital for a hysterectomy.
Yes, I was praying for a reason for my uterus to be removed. The very same uterus that is now growing a new baby. The uterus that I had started wondering if it were still capable of growing a new baby. It hadn’t done so in years, and seemed to be malfunctioning.
The one thing that spared my sanity during that “holiday” was the little organic grocery store across the road. Each day, I made myself get out of that room for meals, to take the kids outside and give them some of the “holiday” they were trying to have, and to take them for a walk across the road to that store. They had organic fruit and veg, other organic products and freshly made organic juice. That juice was the highlight of my day. I didn’t tell the people working there how I was feeling or what was happening, but somehow just their presence was comforting.
Once we were home again, and things started to settle down, I committed to a green smoothie challenge, desperately hoping to get my hormones and body into some decent kind of state.
I did get serious, and I managed to lose a decent amount of weight, feel healthier and start to feel better about myself. And suddenly, I was pregnant. I have regained that weight, but I’m pretty sure most of it is baby (and, you know, other baby stuff) and while I’ve slacked off on the high plant-content diet, I think I’m doing OK. Most importantly, I feel like I can get back on track more quickly after the birth.
I have to. My poor bike is gathering dust, and looking terribly lonely.