Day 13

Day 56 of eating straight eggs for breakfast.  Literally, 56 straight days of eating eggs.  And only eggs.  No toast.  No bacon.  Sometimes an avocado.  One day I made coconut flour pancakes and pretended they were amazing.  And one day I made chia coconut milk pudding, and decided that eggs were actually a gift from Jesus himself.  "Oh but Foxy, chia pudding is amazing!  So much health in one little cup."  Yeah, well.  did your pudding have delicious things?  Like berries and chocolate wisps?  And some honey or maple syrup?  And some fairy wing sparkles and unicorn dandruff?  Well, mine had some unsweetened coconut milk, chia seeds and a few twigs and 14 pebbles.  I gagged most of it down, focusing on the health benefits.  But it literally tasted like cow snot.  So it's eggs over here.  Tomorrow it will be day 57.  Thank you Jesus for chickens.

I continue to poop.  I continue to assume/makeup/wish really hard, that the white things I see embedded in the poos are the cursed wildebeest worms.

Yesterday my mood was significantly low and testy.  I also didn't poop.  There is a large and significant probability that holding onto all those toxins for an extra day did NOT help.  I wish I had realized this before I went to bed.  Next time, enema for sure.  Guys, for real.  Toxins don't just affect physically, but also emotionally.  I also was dealing with a lot of anxiety.  Because basically I'm going to die any second.  The anxiety could be coming from thyroid, candida, wormlies, adrenal, just pick one.

Talking about adrenals.  Do you guys even know you have something called your adrenals?  They sit on top of your kidneys.  They're a pretty big deal slash, important.  I'm going to add this article.  Because I think Dr. Axe makes it's pretty simple to understand.  And then this article mainly because I liked the picture.

My poor poor adrenals.  I think they're about as dead as doornail.  I even read that it's really important to not watch tv shows that are exciting.  That's like everything I watch.  So I'm not watching anymore.  I guess it's going to be me and Doc Martin for awhile.  That and medicinal, unsweetened tea.  And a granny bedtime of 9:00.  And a silky soft pastel pink nightgown that goes down to the floor.  With puffed sleeves and 17 pearl buttons that go up the front, clear to my adams apple.

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Guys, my beautiful Queenie got married this weekend.  Big D and I went sans babies.  First of all, it was 401 degrees.  And I was pleasered than a punch bowl that I wore a shorter dress.  But it did make it awkward when beads of sweat starting running down my legs.  That happened.  Also, with my ridiculously ridiculous diet, I had to leave the reception to go eat a boring piece of meat at the local pub on the corner. . . ... .... . .  So much fanciness I had to pass up.  "Ma'am, would like a whole bunch of fancy drenched in something you can't eat, topped with the devil himself?"  Oh the Self.  Re.  Straint.  I had to maintain.

Also, one of the best parts happened all too quickly.  Big D and I were trying to dance.  I say "trying" because we're old.  And this new music they have out there is stuff that makes dancing hard.  For old people.  But let me tell you, there were some not old people who were dancing just fine.  Anyway, so we're out there.  Clapping off beat.  Clucking our tongues.  Trying not to step on the 47th wine glass that got dropped.  Attempting to shake our skeletal money makers. . . . .. And this magical thing happened.  This drunked girl grabbed Big D and threw him into this mini dance circle.  2 guys and 1 girl and Big D crammed into the middle.  There was so much grabbing and twisting and humping and grinding and touching.  I thought it was the most spectacular event.  And over all too soon.  And Big D almost started crying. 

I need to wrap this up because I'm starving.

Dinnner
A plain burger on a bed of greens topped with sauteed onions
Asparagus
Boiled potatoes and carrots drowned in butter - not for me, of course.

And on an ending note, a question for all of you from Ed. Who is 5.
"What's worse than fake rocks at San Diego?"  His answer is bad angels.

The end.

4 Pregnancies, 2 Births - 6

  I woke up the next morning.  Ned was a memory.  He was completely gone.

I'm a light sleeper.  The bathroom is inches from my bedroom.  Nobody flushes the toilet in the middle of night.

I think Jesus scooped Ned up for me.  He took him home.  And left me to heal.  To feel.  To believe in goodness and hurt and grace.  He left me with a hole in my heart, and said, "for me.  What will you do with this, for me?"

You see, God doesn't promise blissfulness. Or loveliness.  Perfectness.  Great life - if we choose to love him.  No, instead he promises to never leave our side.  To bring joy in the morning after a night of wretchedness.  Strength, when we feel we can't.  A second more.  And grace.  Oh, so much grace.

I hid from the world.  And told no one of my empty hole.  Business as usual, for what needed to be done.  Work, etc.

I have a vivid memory of being out in town with Queen Bee and Murnice.  We wanted to go to an upscaley boutique.  I needed to use the restroom, as I was still bleeding quite a bit.  My mental state was so raw.  And the horrific-ness of how I was treated because I needed to use the restroom would have brought poop-flies to a standstill.  The lady who brought me to the bathroom had to stand right outside the door.  And Murnice asks why there is blood.

That my dear, are the remnants of your brother, who is no longer.


I hid for months.  And stalked everybody on facebook in my darkened house.  Looking into their scar-free lives.  Feeling every moment.  Allowing every bit of mourning to surge through.  Allowing myself to feel what needed to be felt.  I did not give myself a timeline.  Or beat myself up for still feeling so sad, months beyond.  I just remember opening my heart, and wallowing.

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The next couple of things that happened, I do not remember the order.  But in my mind, they happened close in time.

Up to this point, we had been trying to conceive for 3 years... . . . .

There was this guy at church, who for some reason was drawn to Big D and myself.  He always made a point to say hi - but it never went any farther than that.  We always thought it was a little strange, but there's nothing you can do about strange-ness.  One Sunday we must have looked exceptionally down, and it came out that we were struggling with infertility and losing babies.  And he looked at Murnice and said, "she's not your last one."  And then he ran away.

(update:   within the last year, we have started to build a relationship with him and his wife.  And that whole conversation came up.  He was horrified that that came slipping out of his mouth 4 years earlier.  I told him the power those words held.  So much hope.)

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I was driving by myself one Sunday, praying my mamsy-pamsy prayer (I'll get to that later) and Jesus reached down into my car, slapped my little cheeks, and said, "Foxy, what do you want?"

HOT DAMN, I WANT A DADGUM, REAL-LIVING BABY, THAT I PUSHED OUT OF MY OWN ALREADY TRAIN-WRECKED VAGINA. THAT'S WHAT I WANT.

And that was the first time that I had ever uttered those words.  The first time that I was real with myself and with God.  Real, with not feeling unworthy of having a desire.  Real, with screaming from the rooftops what my selfish wants were. 

You see, for 3 years we prayed like this:  Dear Jesus,  we are so grateful for Murnice.  Healthy, wonderful Murnice.  But we would love to have another baby if it's your will.  Because we want your will.  And we recognize that you see all and know all, and maybe another baby just isn't in the cards for us.  And if that's the case, just give our hearts a peace and take away this desire for more babies.  Above all, we want what you want.

Which is fine and great.  But we were totally missing the point, that Jesus wants us to be real with him.  To share our desires, as silly or earthly or spiritual, he wants us to give him details.  Nitty-grits.  Just because he loves us that much.  He wants to shatter our earth-ridden minds with extravagance.  Just as any lover would desire to do.  He wants to know us intimately.  And intimacy comes with details.

So we changed our prayer.  We asked for a baby.  Send us a baby.  Not, "if it's your will".  Or, "if you deem it appropriate".  Just plain and simple, give. us. a. baby.

The end.

4 Pregnancies, 2 Births - 5

So I've kinda been ignoring this story.  It's hard to write when I don't feel sad.  I skimp on information, and hurry the story.  And make it sound more lovely than it is.

I left off where I just found out that I was pregnant for the second time.  I felt no bond.  I was excited, but it was an outward excitement.  My heart felt nothing.  Except betrayal.  I couldn't trust my body to grow a baby.

I was desperate to feel pregnant.  Bloated, tired, achy, nauseous, anything.  I wanted confirmation.  I wanted to be pregnant.  I wanted a baby.

I was in an odd emotional state.  Of wanting something, desperate.  But not believing, accepting.

At 5 weeks pregnant, Sister Bear had her wedding.  The wedding party had to wear all white.

5 weeks pregnant was when I lost my first baby.  I was a mess, just thinking about miscarrying and wearing all white.  I don't look at Sister Bear's wedding pictures and think, "Sister Bear's wedding".  I think - "5 weeks pregnant with a baby I never held".

I survived the wedding.

I played head games of:  I think I feel a little nauseous.  I think I feel bloaty.  But I didn't.  I felt nothing.  I called my midwives and told them I just didn't feel pregnant even though I was registering as pregnant according to pee tests.  I had more blood work done - and it confirmed that I was pregnant.  My levels were good.

I named my fetus Ned.  So when he died, I could say:  "Ned is dead."  And that was the way that I was handling my pregnancy.  Just knowing that I wouldn't hold this baby.

I still don't know if it was intuition that this baby wasn't mine.  Or if it was my nonbelief that killed Ned.

In the middle of August one weekend, I went to Pier 1 with Queen Bee.  I told her I was pregnant a few weeks earlier.  I ran into an old neighbor.  She asked if I was pregnant.  I said no.

When I got home, I used the bathroom.  And was bleeding.  I told Queen Bee to go home.  Big D had a friend over.  He got kicked out too.  I like to think about how that conversation went.  Big D:  "So, um - my wife is losing our baby, so you need to go home."  Brandon:  "Um, this is weird.  Good-bye."  (In my head, that's how the conversation went.)

The next day was Murnice's 4th birthday.  I made a tie-dye cake while wearing a big crunchy pad.  Waiting for my baby to fall out.  I cried all day.  We went to the beach.  I made 4 trips to the park bathroom.  Waiting.  Hoping that I wouldn't have to say good-bye to my baby in a dirty, sandy public bathroom.

Big D and I did the best we could celebrating.  Celebrating life. Celebrating Murnice.  Celebrating what we had been given.

We put our new 4-year-old to bed.  And around 9 that night, Ned slipped out.  The finalization is hardest.  Because there is always hope.  The devastation, rampant.  And Big D is in the shadows.  Again.  Unwilling to mourn with me, together.  Unwilling to acknowledge that this was ours.

Ned laid in the bottom of the toilet.  I did not have the heart to flush our baby.  And I did not have the strength to scoop him out.  He was just there.  And I was stuck.  Feeling so guilty for not feeling brave enough to scoop him out.

Jesus was so kind.  I had prayed earlier that it would be a gentle miscarriage.  And it was.  So peaceful, so gentle and complete. 

The end.

Queen Day

Reasons I feel like a queen today.

1)  I'm washing my laundry with this.  And I couldn't feel a smidge fancier.

Read all about my soap nuts here.  But only if you're super interested in feeling like a queen.  Oh, may I add - 1 lb equates to 300-400 washes.  Who's the money saver now???!!!!!  (sorry, I said that with a really snarky attitude and wild hands)  (I think that was aimed towards Big D)

2)  I just placed an order for a million different fragrances.  Because I make my own candles.  And if I were annoyingly fancy, I would have ordered essential oil (like I did in the past) - but that jizznizzle is too expensive for my taste.  I'll just stick with my soy wax and feel fancy as I burn my brain cells with the highly toxic man-made chemicals known as fragrance oil.  PS.  If you think you might need a candle, you should let me know. Also, if you have extra salsa jars or tea tins - you should give them to me.

3)  I made a zucchini boat for dinner last night.  The reason I feel fancy and queenish?  Um, because it was called a "boat".  Here's the recipe.  And, my my my my my goodliness.  Just picture a drooly chin.  Because that's probably what will happen to you.  *A few side notes  1)  I hate that there is no picture for the boat.  2)  I was the one that gave the recipe the 5 stars.  3)  If you like savory comfort food slash somewhat healthy - then grab a bib.

4)  I went on a very fancy date with Queen Bee.  It was a quick after-dinner for me, before-dinner for her drinky.  And we chatted heart to hearts.  And maybe squealed one-too-many times.  Have I mentioned how good Queen is for my moral?  Have I mentioned that everyone should have a friend like Queeny?  She scoots around in her fancy car.  Squealing into small parking spaces.  And I feel like I'm in a different world.

Reasons that I don't feel like a queen today.

1)  Finding a leg hair growing on my back.  Blunt and sharp and thick.  It was awful.

Take Aways
1)  Make queen days a priority.
2)  Always and continuously check your back for things that don't belong.

Queen Bee

I have a lady in my life named Queen Bee.  She is one of my favorite-est people in all the land.  And everybody should know about Queen Bee and should have a friend like Queen Bee.

I met her when I was in college.  I was 19 and she was 15.  A baby.  I was doing my thing at the local Y - swim lesson jizznizzle, and I was given this baby for my helper.  I don't remember much else of our early days.  Except I can be sympathetic towards her parents and what they must have been feeling when their highschooler was bringing home a college student to play dolls with.

These are all the reasons a few of the reasons why Queen Bee is a necessity to life.

1)  She squeals louder than a lost pig.

2)  She does better twirls and gets her knees up higher on her leprechaun hops then I could ever hope to.

3)  She sings loudly in the car for all to hear.  (Makes my heart smile)

4)  She brings me birthday presents in old paper bags of homemade gifts.

5)  She snuggles Ed and Murnice in the back seat when she's on the verge of hurling chunks from being carsick..

6)  She calls Big D "daddy" just to be annoying.

7)  She curls up on my grease stained pee-covered couch and goes to sleep.

8)  And then wakes up demanding watermelon.

9)  She texts me when she's pooping.  To tell me she's pooping.

10)  She makes up games in the car regarding what word to say when you need to make a left or right.  And what noise to make when you need to stop.

11)  She is not afraid to haggle.

12)  She has a nose ring and wears men's glasses.

13)  She loves babies and birth and real saggy saggy money makers.

14)  She helped paint my livingroom purple.

15)  She has the tenderest most nonjudgmental heart I know.

16)  She inspires me artfully.

17)  She picks up old broken furniture on the side of the road and makes it look special and loved and shiny.

18)  She makes me feel alive.

19)  And loved.

20)  And better about life.

21)  She hates sneakers even more than I do.

22)  She says things like "tell me everything" and "text me a million times".

23)  She is incredibly fancy and so humble.

24)  And introduces me to movies that I would have otherwise never known about.

25)  And makes Big D and Murnice and Ed feel just as special as she makes me feel.

I got to spend a couple few hours with Queen Bee this weekend.  And wow.  It was better than the 5th bowl of chicken soup I'm eating right now.  (Don't judge.  I'm sick.  And hungry.)

Take Aways
1)  Sometimes when you pray for a friend, you get way better than you could have ever imagined.
2)  Spend more time with Queen Bee.
3)  Practice squealing so that one day you can outdo on the squeal competition.
4)  Try to be a Queen Bee to others.