1st Trimester...Check!

Well, after what felt like an eternity, I finally made it through the first trimester of pregnancy. While time has whipped by like the ND wind, pregnancy time has been slowing crawling by (like a baby, get it?!) Yes, I'm an impatient person by nature (we all know this) but I'll be 15 weeks this week. I remember being 8 weeks and thinking there was no way I could carry on feeling like I did for another 5-6 WEEKS. But, as I suspect I will say many more times in the upcoming months and years, you just do. Anyway, I have some 1st trimester truths I would like to share, not only for you, 2 readers, but for me to look back and perhaps even remind myself for the next time around (if and when there is a next time).

Truth #1: The elephant in the (mis)carriage. 
Because this has been the most prominent and emotionally draining on me, let's talk about the scary, looming, elephant in the room during the 1st trimester: miscarrying. I find myself envious (and, okay, since this is my blog, a tad annoyed...) in women who have not gone through this getting to enjoy their pregnancy bliss without the looming thought of "what if???" Now, I'm not saying people who haven't had a miscarriage don't have this thought, I would imagine they do (though I don't distinctly remember having it?) The completely out-of-your-control fear I felt (feel, I guess, though the intensity has decreased) every day, the thoughts of what would happen to me if I were to miscarry again (How will I/we do that again? Will I be emotionally ready to ever try again? What if I/we can't ever have kids?) Part of what calmed me was the way I felt - completely different than last time, actually feeling sick and the fatigue...oh the fatigue! I work with cancer survivors and have been told that chemo fatigue is the absolute worst fatigue there is (coming from people who have had kids...). I believe I once heard "take the most tired you've ever been, even in pregnancy if you've experienced it, and take that times about 10...that is almost what chemo fatigue feels like, only worse." Another reason why cancer survivors are my heros (another blog post), but wow. I can't imagine. Wow, did I get off on a tangent or what?!  Anywho, feeling like crap made me feel better about baby. On the rare moments when I had some energy or didn't feel like throwing up, I would worry because I felt good. Now that the 1st tri is over, I can't say all of these feelings have fallen by the wayside (I have heard way too many stories from others) but the anxiety has definitely eased. Seeing and then hearing baby's heartbeat (and seeing them bounce around like a jelly bean!) was literally the best medicine in soothing that anxiety.

Truth #2: I'm too tired to go to the bathroom. 
HA! But I have to go to the  bathroom....!!! I can't count the number of times I asked Brett to go to the bathroom for me because I was too tired to get off the couch or out of bed. If I would have had a big enough bowl, I would have used it. Lucky for me, I didn't have large bowls around me because there wasn't any actual vomiting or mass quantities of food consumed (more on that later).

Truth #3: The world revolves around me. Well, baby. But baby is inside of me, so me.
Baby brain? Sure, it exists. But I believe what we call baby brain is really just the preoccupation pregnant women have with themselves and the HUMAN they're growing in their belly. Were you saying something? Sorry, I was too busy thinking about what it will feel like to breastfeed. You asked me to do what? Oh, sorry, I forgot because I got sidetracked researching pregnancy constipation. You told me Shaina Twain was going to be over at your house cooking you dinner and she wanted me there, too? Sorry, must have been daydreaming about the future president in my belly. So, sure, baby brain.

Truth #4: I work out (of my bed). 
See truth #2. Too tired to go to the bathroom, but I held myself to unrealistic expectations when it came to working out. Not that I thought I should be running marathons or competing in Crossfit competitions (couldn't do that when I wasn't knocked up!) but I thought I should be at least able to move my damn body. Seriously, Linds, just walk. How hard is walking? Stretch for 5 minutes. 5 minutes, you lazy pile! Just GET UP. Moving makes me feel better. So, move and you'll feel better. The whole adventure in the middle was the difficult part. Yes, I realize my job doesn't help with these unrealistic expectations, but I also had pregnant women around me jumping off the walls. I have come so far in not comparing myself to others and being kind to myself, I seemed to forget this throughout the first tri. Now that I finally have back that little thing I *think* is called energy (haven't seen it for awhile!), I'm mad at myself for being so hard on myself. Now that completing a workout doesn't involve 4-6 hours of self talk and coaxing, I can look back and say that. I can only hope I will remember this if I get a second round of this. (Seriously, you fool, remember this!) Also, can I just say how enjoyable working out while you're pregnant is? No longer am I worried about if I'm working hard enough or personal goals or anything ideal body related, I am just simply working out at a comfortable pace to be healthy for baby. It really is...refreshing.

Truth #5: Food.
Food has never been this mysterious to me in my life. I've always been a sweets addict and now suddenly I'm passing on the cookies (ok, maybe not entirely passing...) and going for the crackers. And even those don't really taste good. Or they did for the first half of the box and now the thought of them repulses me. Why does fruit taste like candy (seriously, more KIWI!!!) Why have I eaten a homemade "egg mcmuffin" every morning for the past 6 weeks and would eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if I didn't know baby needed something other than bread, eggs, cheese, avocado, and turkey. (Oh, geez, I could go for one RIGHT NOW!) Though I did almost cry today when I thought someone had brought me cake and instead it was a card (don't ask how that happened) and I almost cut my husband when I got home and realized he had eaten the last of the chips and salsa a few weeks ago...but, I digress.

Why Easter Rocks My Socks Off

Many of you have heard me say how Easter is one of my favorite Holidays. Yes, for me, Easter trumps Christmas. Yes, you read that correctly. I always feel really blah about Christmas right up until the last minute. Once all the obligatory parties and celebrations have been attended, all my presents have been frantically found, bought, (and if I’m really lucky, wrapped!) and after I am sick to death of listening to Christmas music – do I really appreciate Christmas. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are when everyone can finally relax, spend time with their family, and finally think about the true meaning of Christmas. If we didn’t have the prelude of the time span starting the day after Thanksgiving up until those two blessed days, I think I may find Christmas more enjoyable. But contrary to what I have babbled about for the past few sentences, I am not here to bash on Christmas. I am here to tell you why I love Easter.

First of all, as foreshadowed in my Christmas rant, Easter is a low key event with very little pressure. Everyone has their own traditions – some families go all out and some families hardly acknowledge the Holiday. But, there isn’t any pressure to do either, and I think that’s swell.


Perhaps my enjoyment of Easter has something to do with the fact there will be chocolate. Lots of chocolate. And we all know how much I love chocolate. But if chocolate were my sole bargaining point as to why Easter rocks so much, then why wouldn’t I chose Halloween as my favorite Holiday? Well, that’s easy, Halloween takes place in October. October brings November and November brings December, which brings January. I shudder at the sheer thought of this time period known as winter. Blerg. 

Easter means its SPRING, or at least ALMOST spring, or at least we could really only have one or two more blizzards in April and May (knock on wood.) I love spring. Spring means summer. The weather is finally starting to cooperate and we are finally exposed to that bright yellow thing in the sky that disappeared in October. It’s my favorite time of year. People (okay, me) are more energized, happier, and ready to tackle anything life throws at them. Life feels like a clean canvas ready to be splashed with life paint.

Now, many of you may be thinking I am a pagan Easter bunny lover at this point, but know I do know the true meaning of Easter. Easter is a statement of hope for us as individuals, as nations, and as a whole world, providing we are willing to shift our foundation from the power of man to something bigger than all of us.

That, to me, is why Easter is so awesome. We tend to make all of our big “resolutions” with the New Year, and often times those are vain and unrealistic. Easter is an opportunity to reflect and renew. Time to look deep within ourselves, our relationships, and our impact on this world.  We all have many talents, but above all, we were all gifted talent to love, talent to teach, talent to be kind, talent to have open and accepting hearts – and above all- talent to hope. To look beyond the ordinary, everyday and hope for something better.

Whatever you are searching for in your life, let Easter give you hope. And chocolate.  


HOPPY EASTER!!

“We can complain that rose bushes have thorns, or we can rejoice that thorn bushes have roses.”

Oh, Abe Lincoln, you were so, so wise.

His quote is just another pessimist vs. optimist, glass half empty vs. glass half full analogy. I strive really hard to try to see the silver lining in things. Is it always easy? Absolutely not. Does it annoy other people? Oh, absolutely! It used to make me second guess myself every time there was an eye roll, a back turned, or a comment made when I would make a joke or try to lighten the mood.

Then a very, very wise man said this to me in an email and made me change my viewpoint:
“Think about this , you have to feel sorry for difficult people because they have to live with themselves 24/7 and all you may have to do is to deal with them a fraction of this time. Secondly, if you try to kill them with kindness you may disarm them, and if you are mean to them back you will lose because hopefully they are so bad that you are not capable of being this bader to them,and if you can beat them in their game of being bad, you are actually bader then them and ultimately you may win the battle, but you will lose the ultimate game of life.”
Please forgive the grammatical errors; English is not his first language.
Hamid probably doesn’t know it, but his email made a profound impact on my life. Whenever I encounter a “poop,” I repeat his words to myself. They have to live with themselves 24/7 and luckily, I only have to encounter them for a brief period of time.

I have to wonder, what is it that makes us such crab apples? Why is it ever acceptable for anyone to be rude? Why do we frown more than we smile? Why are we not finding the silver linings, drinking from our half full glasses, and appreciating the roses? I’m not talking about being “Mary-freakin-sunshine” all the time, but, really, is it so hard to smile at people? Everyone has shit going on in their life. Everyone is carrying their own weight, their own burden, regardless of the front they may put on.

In case you can’t tell, I am a quote person. One of my absolute favorites said by the famous Lou Holtz: “Life is ten percent what happens to you and ninety percent how you respond to it.”

Yes, life sucks sometimes. We can all agree on that. But why would you cry when you could laugh? I’ve never understood that. I do understand everyone is different and has very different personalities and ways of dealing with things; it’s the beautiful thing that makes this world go around. We probably wouldn’t have some of our famous pieces of art if we didn’t have disturbed, troubled artists. (I’m totally talking out of my ass here, I’m not much of an art person, but I think I’m probably right...)
Ok, what’s my point of all this random rambling? Yeah, I’m not entirely sure either. Be nicer to each other. Smile more at perfect strangers. Jump up and down when you see people you’re excited to see. Wave at people stopped next to you at a stoplight. You may feel silly, but I highly doubt you’ll be ruining someone’s day. You may, in fact, annoy them so much they feel like annoying someone else – perhaps with a smile.

Grateful Day

I have these days (well, mornings, really) where the grass appears greener, the sky bluer, and the pep in my step a bit higher. I am overwhelmed by all the good in my life. I start counting all the things I am grateful for and the list goes on and on and on and on. I’ve tried “gratitude journaling” before and because I am me, I have a hard time being consistent with it (there will be a whole post on this later, don’t you worry!) I am inclined to think when this overwhelming feeling takes over, someone is telling me to stop and smell the roses. To stop letting negative thoughts creep in. To appreciate all of the many wonderful people in my life and all I have in life. When something sparks this feeling, my mind starts to reel, thinking, counting, and multiplying all of the good things in life. You see, what I’ve found is when you stop and give gratitude to one thing; you begin to see the gratitude in all (ok, most) things. For example (this may or may not be the domino effect that happened in my brain this morning):

1) I love my dogs. Sure, they are naughty and aren’t the best behaved dogs in the world, but they are mine. When they sit and stare at me with smiles on their faces (yes, of course, they want something I have, duh) my heart swells with gratitude for these unique creatures in my life.

2) My mind starts to wander to my family. I am anticipating a Sunday Funday with them this weekend and am pretty excited for it. Every family has their unique quirks, traditions, and dysfunctions. I am very grateful for mine. Team Lauf, baby!

3) I go in the kitchen, where our couch is still sitting, and look at the dirty mess that is my house right now. Yes, I just admitted my house is dirty (sheetrock dust!) and messy and guess what? I’m okay with it. For it means I have a house to live in. The mess will likely be taken care of sooner rather than later, but my gratitude for this structure will remain.

4) I grab my phone, which is next to my sleeping husband, who arrived home from work around 10pm and was probably up until some ungodly hour typing notes. Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude.

5) I eat my breakfast and watch the Today show. Do you get where this is going? Wow, I have food to eat. Wow, I have cable TV to watch. More gratitude.

6) I kiss my hubby and pooches goodbye and get into my car. Car to drive = gratitude. Being able to afford gas in the tank = gratitude.

7) I began driving to work (I have a job!!! A good one! With benefits! Using my degree! With great coworkers!), smiling at the people next to me while stopped at red lights (another day, another post). I am thankful for the grass that looks greener, the sky that looks bluer, and the extra pep in my step.

8) I decide to call one of my best friends, who I talk to fairly often on my way to work and who has experienced the excited, overwhelmed (overwhelming?) grateful Lauf a time or two. She does not answer, but that does not stop me from being incredibly grateful I have her in my life. I begin to think of friend after friend, some who are on active duty, some who are in the reserves and some who were…lost at sea. I am grateful for all of them, for the impact they have (have had) on my life.

Now, of course this could continue all day with everything I see and everyone I encounter, but it very likely won’t. You see, it is a daunting, exhausting task. The more you look for the good, the more you find. And I can’t count that high.

Can you?

Kitchen Shenanigans

First of all, WOW. The response from my last post gave me goose bumps. Multiple times. More “me, too’s,” and lots of support. Thank you.

You may or may not have noticed one of the taglines to this blog is 'kitchen shenanigans,' which I fully intend to live up to. Since I haven't been able to spend much time in the kitchen lately, I thought I would share one of my "concoctions" I ate for breakfast this morning. At work, people are always asking me for breakfast ideas (and lunch ideas and dinner ideas and snack ideas and protein ideas...) and I think people forget, or don't know, how fun it can be to "wing it" in the kitchen. Concocting doesn't always end well, but in this case, it was a very yummy success!

I credit the grocery store handing out samples of cranberry cheddar cheese for this delight. I had a Kashi 7-grain waffle (which always remind me of my time spent at Hilton Head Health) on hand and a waffle with greek yogurt and blueberries didn't appeal to me this morning. Note: I am a breakfast fanatic. I love it. I would eat breakfast food for every meal of the day if I didn't know the value of other proteins and vegetables. I rarely eat the same thing for breakfast two mornings in a row. Anyway, I decided to use the waffle as my "base." I then put a thin layer of Trader Joe's fig butter on the waffle, fried two eggs, and had a little of the cranberry cheddar cheese in the middle. The sweet and salty combo was just right. It was ohsoyummyinmytummy. You could, of course, use a piece of (stone ground) whole wheat toast instead, or go sans bread, but this is a combo worth trying!

What's your favorite "concoction?" (Concoction! I must find a new word to use that doesn't make me giggle...)

Spontaneous Abortions/A Married, Childless Girl’s Rant

I bet that grabbed your attention. Did you know that the medical term for a miscarriage is “spontaneous abortion?” Most people aren’t comfortable with this medical term referring to a pregnancy loss less than 20 weeks, so the term miscarriage is often used to replace it. There’s your fact of the day.

Here’s another fact: according to the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG), studies reveal that anywhere from 10-25% of all clinically recognized pregnancies will end in miscarriage. 10-25%! Did you get that? That means a little under 1 in 4 recognized pregnancies will not end with a crying baby.

Why am I writing about such a taboo subject? BECAUSE IT SHOULDN’T BE TABOO. I just told you (a little under) 1 in 4 recognized pregnancies will end in miscarriages. Why is this something people don’t/won’t/can’t talk about? Yes, it is a private, personal thing - but I can’t help think if more people would talk openly, it wouldn’t have to be such a damn hard topic to talk about.

As most of you probably know, we had a miscarriage in January 2011. It was an absolute horrific experience I would not wish on my worst enemy. It was painful, physically, and much more so, mentally and emotionally. With everything in life, things somehow become easier to deal with when you hear a “me too.” I cannot tell you how many “me too’s” I have heard over the past year and a half. However, most of the time, it was whispered during a hug or said in a very hush-hush manner. Why did I not know this before I became pregnant? I can’t help but think those initial blows, full of self-loathing, guilt, and a sadness I can’t even begin to describe, would have been slightly less painful had I known what a common occurrence it was. This brings me to my first impact statement for this post – please talk about miscarriages. Please don’t be afraid to bring it up in conversations. Please don’t be afraid to talk about babies or kids or anything related around people who you happen to know have had them – trust me, we can see the pity and regret in your eyes once you begin your sentence and quickly changing the subject or backtracking only makes it worse. I do realize this is my opinion, so, please, if you have a different one, share it.

This brings me to impact statement #2. This is more of a soapbox rant, but if it prevents one person from making a careless, stupid comment, or at least think twice before doing so, then this post was a success. People, it is NOT appropriate to ask someone whom you do not know very well “when are you going to start having kids?” If you have the audacity to ask this question, I wish this is the response you would receive: “Actually, asshole, we have been trying to have kids for (insert a number of months, years, or decades here) and have been unsuccessful. When are you going to start thinking before you speak?” I bet if one person ever answered your thoughtless question like that, you would never again ask the question. I’m not just talking about miscarriages here – IVF, adoption, etc, it all applies.

But, wait, didn’t you just say to talk about it? Well, as with everything, there is a time and place. Cousin’s graduation? In the dentist’s chair? In line at the grocery store? Not the most appropriate time to strike up this heavy of a topic. Especially with someone you don’t know very well. All I’m asking is for people to think before they speak. Let me share my most recent experience with this type of behavior to shed a bit more light on exactly what I mean.

On Mother’s Day this year, I went to one of our local grocery stores to, duh, pick up groceries. They were handing out flowers for Mother’s Day. A very thoughtful gesture, yes? Not so fast. They were handing them out to every female over the age of 20 who walked in the door. I quietly accepted mine from the girl who forced one into my hands, wishing me a “Happy Mother’s Day!” I smiled and said thank you. When she left her station moments later, I placed the carnation back in the bucket, thinking that would be the end of it. I picked out my items and went to the checkout. An older gentleman was cashiering at the shortest line. I placed my items on the counter. I saw the older gentleman gesture to a young man out of the corner of my eye. Oh, no. For the second time that day, a flower was thrust into my hands and I was wished a “Happy Mother’s Day!” I, again, smiled and said thank you. (Looking back, that is where I went wrong, where I should have spoken up.) The conversation proceeded something like this:

Older gentleman: “Should you be working today?”
Me: (confused, because I had to teach a class later that day, and for a split second I thought he was referring to that) “Yes?”
Older gentleman: “It’s Mother’s Day, you shouldn’t be working.”
Me: (now understanding and very red in the face) “I actually don’t have kids, just my 2 dogs.”
Older gentlemen: (after being quiet for a moment) “Well, you still shouldn’t be working today.”

Um, ok?

After refusing to have my carnation wrapped in tissue paper, I exited the store and with every step I took, I became more and more furious. Please don’t get me wrong. I know this whole flower thing was meant to be a thoughtful, kind gesture, aiming towards showing customer appreciation. I saw many mothers come through the doors, thrilled with the gesture. The true intention was not lost on me. However, I began to think about other people I know in my life. A friend who has had 3 miscarriages, waiting for their first child. A friend’s sister-in-law who just went through her second failed round of IVF. Another friend who is in her 40’s, single, and would love nothing more than to be a wife and mother and it just hasn’t happened for her yet. People who have recently lost a child, only child or otherwise…the list went on and on in my head who may have possibly had their day negatively impacted by such a small encounter.

A long story to illustrate my point (true Lauf fashion, people!) Because typically I try not to complain unless I have a solution I think will work better, here’s a tip. A question worded “do you plan to have children?” (if you’re that curious about whether or not I’m popping out kids anytime soon) sits very well with me. I can give you a yes or no and provide more information only if I want to. Not that it’s any of your bizness! (sarcastic font) :)

The Treadmill's My Boyfriend

Once upon a time, I lived with a sweet gal by the name of Michelle. We would often have long talks (usually after indulging in one too many adult beverages) about our (lack of) love lives and how men were…difficult. Yeah, difficult. Around the same time I was training for my first half marathon – logging many hours on the treadmill. Note to anyone running their first road race – this was NOT wise! During one of these profound heart to hearts, I stated that “the treadmill was my boyfriend.” The more I began to think about it, the more it made sense. I was dating a treadmill and it was the best relationship I had ever been in!

How do I describe this 10 year long affair between the treadmill and me? Sometimes our relationship lasts for months on end, seeing each other multiple times a week, and others…well, we see each other from across the room, but make no contact. Many people think I use the treadmill – I get to call the shots and the treadmill doesn’t have a say. I control the duration of our time spent together, the exact speed of our trysts, and the elevation of our climax. I’m humane, sometimes I dread jumping on the treadmill. After a few long minutes with some gentle touches, I am usually warmed up and ready to go. Some days we keep our pace slow – up and down, rolling terrain. Other days we alternate between fast and slow. Fast and slow. Faster. Slower. Usually during the spring months, we spend hours upon hours together, keeping our pace slow and steady until the end is near, when together we sprint to the finish. Those are the days where I feel the best getting off (the treadmill), drenched in sweat, exhaustion, and glory. Sometimes I watch TV while interacting with the treadmill. Some people think this is wrong, but for me it provides a distraction until I can get off. I really enjoy listening to music while engaged with the treadmill. If we’re taking it slow, I enjoy the sweet music of Boys II Men, or my most recent favorite, ADELE. If we’re doing a speedy session, I pretty something with a good beat we can keep pace to, like the Black Eyed Peas or Shinedown.

Often times I find myself wondering why I even find the treadmill appealing. Then I begin listing the reasons. The treadmill doesn’t care what I wear or if my hair is messy. It always makes me feel better about myself. It is there when no one else is. I can travel near and far, and if I look hard enough, I can always find it. It hardly ever talks back – if it does squeal or whine, lube usually takes care of it.

Now that I'm married, I still date the treadmill on and off. As rocky as it can be, it's a relationship that isn't going anywhere. We’ll be together through thick and thin, till elliptical do us part.

I encourage all women, even men, to have a relationship with the treadmill. The best part of being in a relationship with a treadmill? You can always trade in for a newer, fancier model!