Miscarriage: My Poetic Rant

Questions Without Answers

It is not your fault

May I repeat it is not your fault

But what about the hot bath I took?

Or the beer I had before I knew I was pregnant?

No, it is not your fault

But what about the sex, or using my vibrator, could that be to blame?

There just must be something to blame, someone, oh it must be me

So many questions but no satisfying answers

It happens,  it is normal, your body knows what’s best

The wrong signals were sent, the womb was confused, everything was out of your control

It is not your fault

I repeat, it is not your fault

But who’s fault is it?

Why did it happen?

And how can I prevent it happening again?

You can’t, you won’t, somethings just are what they are

The numbers they swirl,

40

You are old, it is too late

20%

It is going to happen again

50%

Your quality is diminished

I cry

So it is my fault

I waited too late

I did everything wrong

I am to blame

No, it is not your fault

You are not to blame

It happens, it is OK

You will try again, you will find a way because it is what you do best

Remember, it is OK, it is not your fault

We love you

I Love You

Thank you all for the love and support on here, social media, and on Patreon. For the likes, shares, comments, and private words of encouragement. It’s nice not to be alone.

The Two Week Limbo

If time wasn’t a factor I “would love to just, “let things happen” so to speak, but I am 40. I pour over the stats saying that the old you get, the likely hood of getting pregnant reduces by not just a few points, but by entire percentages. It’s daunting. And let us not forget, that looming, very close by now, is the possibility of peri-menopause, and ultimately, the ending of my egg producing power. I tremble as I write that. It looms, ominously over my head, taunting me. I haven’t feared getting older like this before. Please body, please on please just let me pop out a couple of healthy babies before you shut that down, I plea through tears as I enter the dreaded two week limbo.

If I had met this man 10 years earlier, well, everything would be different, and if I go down that rabbit hole, the truth is, we probably wouldn’t have been as compatible as we are now. So, I won’t lament, or regret the things that cannot be, other than to say, trying to conceive would have been easier. And on that note, trying to have a baby, is so much more of everything than I ever could have imagines.

The pros of course, include sex, more sex, and intimacy that is nothing short of miraculous. Two people, coming together, trying to start a life, because we are truly in love, and want a family is more than I could have imagined as a youth. The butterflies in my stomach feeling is ongoing, and is blissful, calming, and exciting all at the same time. I love just laying in his arms afterwards, calm, fulfilled, and in an enjoyment of the silence of my wondering, pondering brain. There is nothing quite like that kind of sex. All risk is gone, and what it left is possibilities, and happiness. Oh and sweet sweet satisfaction.

The cons however, creep into my mind, very shortly afterwards. During the past 5 years, I worked very diligently to listen and react to my body, mind, and emotions. Through yoga, writing, and the ear of an amazing woman, I became more in tune with everything internal. Overall, this has brought me great strength, honed my empathy, and allowed me the permission to listen to my body cues, and rest when needed. Something that I have never been able to do before. Unfortunately, being so in tune with my inner working, I am also more susceptible to noticing changes in my body.

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As I mentioned in my previous post, my hormones are raging, and causing nothing short of chaos during the 2 weeks after ovulation. I feel everything! And let me tell you, that ride is no fun. If you Google early pregnancy symptoms, PMS, and ovulation, there is so much overlap between them, that there is zero telling what is actually going on. And for added fun, there is simply no method of testing to tell you the truth of your body. At least nothing in a cost effective, at home, peace of mind type way. Pregnancy test only work accurately when you miss your period. Blood tests tell you thing much sooner, but, you need to see your Dr. for a referral, and that usually takes the same amount of time. There are urine test, and thermometers for ovulation prediction, but that still leaves you with the 2 weeks until your period arrives to contend with.

Some of you might be saying, “it’s only 2 weeks” that’s nothing in the grand scheme of things! But during those two weeks, your hormones are doing all of the things. And as added fun, I found out recently, that many women experience an increase of hormonal fluctuations as they grow closer, and close to menopause. For those who don’t or didn’t, I am so envious of you, because the last few months has included more emotional breakdowns than I think the rest of my PMS combined. Maybe a slight exaggeration, for dramatic effect, to drive home the point of my exhaustion.

Dearly, I would love to just stop listening to my body. To go with the flow, and say, c’est la vie! Followed by que sera, sera. But, to go full circle in this post, I am 40. Time is not on my side. Egg quality is diminishing. My chances are going down exponentially, and as my Dr. informed me, my problem is not infertility (due to my miscarriages), so… something else is going on, that I am certain time will not just fix. Argh!!! So I sit here, venting this all out in a effort to quiet the noises of hormones in my head long enough to focus on pitching my book. Fingers crossed, everything works out in my head!

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We’re Trying…

What a terrifying thing to admit.  Are we even allowed to do that?  This is something couples keep to themselves until the 3 month mark is over, then you announce.  But the thing is, the 3 month part is the hardest.  It’s the most nerve wracking, and the most traumatic, especially when things go wrong.  Or even when things go right, or so I assume, because it’s your first time and you’re terrified.

I’ve recently had things go wrong.  It was awful,  but we both persevered like you’re supposed to.  We grieved together, but remained separated from the world.  When I went to work, I pretended that everything was ok.  Then I would breakdown at home, where I would face another reality of the miscarriage, and then another. The isolation, and the pretending everything is alright is exhausting. It takes a toll on you. On your womanhood, or manhood, or all the things that creep into your minds as you go from hope and wonderment, to letdown, and sadness.

The medical professionals tell you, especially with the first one that’s It’s not your fault.  It’s common.  You google the stats and see about 1/4 of all pregnancies end in miscarriage.   But is that true?  Was mine recorded?  Am I a statistic or just another unrecorded woman who went through something we aren’t supposed to talk about? Will I go through it again? Can I persevere through another failure?

And don’t get me started on the burden and grief and sheer helplessness that is felt by our partners.  Is that what being a future parent is really about? Taking your lumps in silence and then only talking about things when they are good?  I hate the silence.   I hate that we went through that alone. 

So, I’m changing the conversation.  We are trying to have a baby.  I’m now 40 and that’s scary. 

But also incredibly fun, and so hot, and all the amazing things that sex can be, especially with the best partner that you have ever been with. If we don’t start trying now, the reality is, we will be out of time. Biology doesn’t let a woman have babies at any point in her life, my biological clock is screaming. Men, yet again have hit the procreation jackpot. They can always have babies, well almost. Whereas me? I simply cannot wait anymore to try. And because I have found the man of my dreams, who is on the absolute same page as me, it’s simply a matter of can we, rather than do we want to. So, we are trying… to have a baby.

And yes, I am terrified of bringing any of you readers along for the journey. For sharing the private, personal, and all the jazz in between. But here I am, being vulnerable and raw, again!

Thank you for all who have supported me over on Patreon. I am getting back into the habit of taking being the scenes photos, and this post is no exception. So, enjoy!

Breaking Away: My Next Chapter

Love, Sex, and What Comes Next

Love, Sex, and What Comes Next

There are so many things that society, or family dictate that you must keep a secret.  Your sex life for example, shall never be shared publicly.  So of course, I created a blog to explore and to ultimately better understand my last non-monogamous relationship.  It began as questions, and evolved into my stance that breaking away from taboos can be valuable, and sometimes even helpful to share.  Writing has given me clarity of purpose and is also how I best express myself, and find the answers to all of my many, many questions.  Sometimes I even stumble upon a snippet of wisdom or two, and I count myself lucky in that I’ve been fortunate enough to share with anyone who dares to read. Oh, and I may have finally finished my book… so stay tuned for details on that! But for this post let me get down to my next chapter brought to you by love, sex, and what comes next for me!

I am about to embark on a new sort of taboo and secret sharing, that is going to push me out of my comfort zone, yet again.  And that is this whole wanting a family thing.  Specifically, wanting children.  I am tearing up, simply writing those words, because there is a secret deep down, that I have felt necessary to keep to myself for quite some time.  And it’s hurt to do, almost as badly as the actual experience was, and that was my miscarriage early on this year.

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For those long time readers who are going, whoa!  I signed up to read about your experiences outside of monogamy, and not something so personal, such as loss.  And, at this point, I thank you so much for your support over the years, and completely understand you not wanting to continue.  For those who are still a little curious, as to what I can possibly be thinking right now, it is simply this; trying to have children is a subject that people are reluctant to talk about.  It is something that feels strange, and difficult to write about, or even talk about, and that is why, I know deep down, that I must.

Also, I have long touted myself as being sex positive.  And guess what?  One of the things that can result from sex, is procreation.  Thus, I don’t think this is a strange fit at all for this blog.  Sex is about pleasure, fun, love, and yes, sometimes even trying to create life.  I’m almost 40, financially stable, and have found the absolute love of my life.  And so, what better time than to try, fulfilling a dream I have had for decades, which is to be a mother. And yes, there can be no doubt that my biological clock is absolutely screaming at me to hurry up, before it gets too late, so hormones might play a little role too.

I have experienced so much when it comes to sexual exploration, as this blog can attest.  But the one thing, I have yet to experience is what sex is like, when two people who love each other, are trying to conceive.  I was trying to make that line cheesy and corny, but decided that blunt was the best.  When I accidentally got pregnant, I was horrified to realize the complete lack of reputable information for all the many questions that I had.  Yes, I am a sexual being, and yes, I want to continue to be a sexual being even when pregnant, but, above all, I want to do the right things, and ensure that I’m doing all the best things possible to ensure a healthy baby. And while this blog will never and can never serve to give medical advice, what it aims to do is share my experiences in an honest way.

I’m sure there are many people that don’t want to read about this journey, and that is absolutely alright with me.  But I know how many questions I had late last year when I found out, and how helpless I felt when everything went wrong.  I don’t think I am alone in that feeling, and as I have always said, if I can help just one person through my mistakes, and experiences, then all the vulnerability will be worth it.  My writing will remain raw, real, and yes, I will be talking about sex, this is me after all. So stay tuned, because I’m about to tackle something taboo, and write the secrets down that apparently you are not supposed to talk about. Love, Sex and what comes next!

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One Less Stampede Slut: My Little Reflection

Goodbye Stampede Slut

I woke up this morning to a notification from Google that one of my pages was skyrocketing, and I smiled. It was one of those knowing smiles, filled with reflection, and appreciation for almost everything that has brought me to this point, a place whereby I love who I am. And I realized, perhaps for the first time, that while my experiences “slutting” it up for Stampede helped shape who I am today, I have in fact broken away from that woman. I am no longer a stampede slut, but holy cripes did I ever have some great stampede fun.

For those who don’t know, the Calgary Stampede, well the party side of it, is basically like a cowboy Mardi Gras so to speak. It’s a time when the liquor flows over a 10 day period and almost everyone is in a cowboy hat! The transformation my city goes through is quite remarkable, and there is this feeling of western solidarity met with Ya Hoo’s, and Yee Haw’s on the streets. I know it sounds hokey, but you should see the grin on my face as I write these words. It’s a strange culture, that truly you have to see to believe. And I have definitely experienced a lot!

From drunken threesomes, to walks of shame. From pub crawls, to 2 stepping with strangers, and all the amazing butts in tight jeans! I’ve been drunker than a skunk, and woken up in strange beds. I’ve been to stampede swingers parties, and couples speed dating, and a few times, I’ve even been responsible and gone home alone, Ha!

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The thing about this time of year, is that you can have stupid fun, especially if you are single or non-monogamous. And you can win some incredibly stupid prizes if you pretend to be the above, which absolutely happens in this city. There are many a marriage that allow for “indiscretions” during this 10 day period, and even more that it is absolutely forbidden to do so! It really is a wild time whereby wedding rings just don’t seem to matter, and well, it is the closest thing we as a city have to being sexually free.

And the thing of it is, I always knew that one day, the parties wouldn’t mean as much to me. And the call to come out and party would fade out into a whisper, I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Every experience that I have had, good and bad, wearing my skimpiest western wear, often out on the prowl, has made me the person I am today. And I smile, thinking back to the parties, and the memories, and the country music soundtrack that is forever burned into my brain. It is a cherished part of who I am, but, I can no longer call myself a slutty girl of stampede.

I can and will continue to dress the part because dressing up is my favourite thing to do. But, the wild parties, and drunken sexcapades are a thing of my past. I love that I live in a city whereby I could be this slutty girl when I needed to be her the most. When I needed to just lose myself in the music, and the flirtation, and the attention, I had a 10 day oasis. It helped scratch an itch that I admit I had to scratch.

It brought me so much closer to being the sex positive person that I am today. And I loved her, and her fearlessness in wearing pink chaps in public, or the shortest denim skirts! She was bold, and carefree, and stampeded her little heart out. I hope that I take the best parts of her with me, as I forge forward, towards this next, beautiful chapter of my life. Thank you Stampede Slut, and goodbye!

If you want to check out some of my stampede outfits throughout the years, check out my BreakingAway page on Patreon.