I decided today that I should eat more protein. Really I should have been eating more protein for the past four months, but I just wasn’t in the mental space to care enough about it. Now I’m concerned that this has impacted my eggs and I haven’t given them the best chance.

I ate a lot of protein during pregnancy. I kept a diary in a spreadsheet, following the Brewer’s Diet. So I opened it up today to get some ideas of what I could make myself, since it’s been a while and my brain feels a little clueless. And I just started laughing as I read it – full out giggling at my computer screen. No wonder I was able to eat 80 grams of protein a day, and no wonder my mom was laughing so much at me when I visited over christmas… I ate a TON of food! Holy shit! I only fuzzily remember being that hungry all the time, being able to eat two meals at the same time and then go looking for desert. I never would have thought it was possible. And at the time it felt perfectly normal to be that hungry, I didn’t think it was that strange for me!

My appetite has gone way down. I’m trying to eat (because there are days when the depression gets in the way and I just don’t even feel like eating), but I’m also trying to be mindful of what and how much I eat, rather than just grabbing whatever is easiest or closest. I’m finding that I feel full a lot faster than I think I will. At a family party on sunday I filled my plate and ate only about half of it before I realized I was perfectly fine and no longer hungry – even though I had been really starving before I started.

The other thing I’ve been doing for a few weeks now is lifting weights. Freeweights. I’m not even lifting very big ones yet – just mostly the 10lb dumbells. It doesn’t take me very long to run through most of the muscle groups: I do squats for the thighs and butt, some overhead presses for the shoulders and chest, bicep curls and overhead tricep pulls for the arms, sometimes some simple calf presses, and then a bunch of crunches for the dreaded belly. It takes me 15 minutes at a leisurely pace. I do get sweaty – which is gross in this heat (makes it a little harder to get motivated). And I do make an effort to do each movement carefully and properly, pushing my muscles until I’m a bit sore the next day. But seriously, 15 minutes three times a week? That’s all I have to do?

I’m under 140lbs now. Just barely under, but under. But much more significant than that is the fact that all of my pants are falling off of me. I had to ditch my uber-comfy maternity sweatpants a couple of weeks ago because they just weren’t staying up, even with the elastic. My pre-pregnancy jeans are sagging around my ass and I find myself tugging at them all day at work. I think – now gasp with me here – I have to go out and buy a smaller size. WTF? I have been in size 12 jeans since… since… ummm…. a long time. Since I got married, I think… 3 years ago. At least that long, probably longer. So for me to be fitting into size 10s at 4 and a half months post-partum? Holy SHIT. That’s crazy.

I am wicked pleased with myself about all of this. This is something I have control over. Very obvious cause-and-effect. I make changes, I see the result. And it’s more than that… I feel like I want to show everyone my progress. And I know it’s connected to my loss and coping, I’m just not exactly sure how. Maybe just making myself feel better. “I don’t have the baby, but look! I have this!”

I’m also pleased that I’ve lost this weight/size without restricting what I eat. How much, yes – but I haven’t excluded anything from my day. If I want chocolate, I eat some chocolate. If we go out for dinner (which we don’t do often), I order what I want. I still eat a portion-sized bag of chips at work. I just don’t let myself eat only those, and I don’t let myself eat a ton of it (I normally have bad self-control, so this is kind of new for me). I think this is why it’s working… I really really can’t cut the things I love out of my diet. Just can’t do it. I’ve also discovered that a lot of fast food really sucks. Since I’m not eating as much as I used to I’m loathe to waste an entire meal on something that tastes like it’s been sitting under a warmer for an hour. You can keep it. (But I’ll take the fries. Nom nom nom.)

As an aside, all those fad diets just piss me off. It makes me grouchy when I see “Lose 10lbs in one month!” splashed across a magazine cover while I’m waiting in line at the grocery store. (Though it’s easier to look at than the large pictures of celebrity babies. Because I really want to stare at THAT. Go. The fuck. Away.) It’s like the magazines and industry is constantly trying to “invent” new diets. How come they rarely promote the best diet of all: eat more healthy stuff, less crap, and less overall. And exercise. And then I saw a commercial on TV for a “calzone” that seriously was like at least 4 meals. Yeah, our society has issues.

You know I haven’t bought a magazine since about halfway through my pregnancy, as I’m just tired of the bullshit. I can’t help but wonder, as I’m reading magazine articles, how long it took someone to whip it up. Not just weight loss articles, but anything in magazines nowadays. Perky little articles on how to get good big things with very little effort. Maybe I’m just jaded. And I’m fucking tired of seeing spreads about the cutest new fashions where they recommend shirts for just $150! And purses that are colorful and spunky and fucking ugly. Yes… yes I do believe I am just getting jaded. I’m not even old yet. Shit, what am I going to sound like in 20 years?

::

Despite the magazine-ranting I am actually feeling better today. Yesterday was an okay day tending to the “good” side of things, and today was even more so. I got up early, ran a lot of errands, went to work, came home and took the dogs out, made myself an actual meal, filled out some paperwork for our upcoming RE appointment, and even got to spend some time with Den at the end of the day. Somewhere in all of that I felt like the cloud had lifted just a little bit. I am not good, I am far from good, but I am not bad. I’m starting to feel a little less heavy, a little less chained to the ground. I am thankful.

I guess these moods are just going to come and go. I’m always mindful of my underlaying depression (beyond the loss and grief) and medication and am open to adjusting things and seeking help if need be, but at the same time I know that there are going to be shitty days, weeks and sometimes I’m just going to have to slog through them. As long as I don’t get stuck in them.

Two things I now like to eat that I didn’t like before pregancy: ranch dresssing and cottage cheese.

Ranch dressing I never liked… I mean, it wasn’t terrible, but it was certainly not what I wanted on my salad, I was a thousand island or honey mustard kind of girl. Then during pregnancy suddenly I liked ranch. A lot. It was what I had on all of my salads during pregnancy. And I still kind of like it (just not as much).

Cottage cheese I started eating because I was getting tired of milk and normal cheese and was looking for a healthy snack. And I liked it. And I apparently still like it. Especially this Cottage Doubles made by Breakstone… I just had the raspberry flavor. Yum yum!

Yay for healthy snacks. :)

Remember how I said I’d finish my birth story someday? I only just now got to it. It’s a hard one… to write and read.
Part 1
Part 2

::

Immediately after they took Devin I layed back in bed, exhausted mentally and physically. The midwife was sitting there, waiting. I really wasn’t aware of much, but I know that after some minutes had passed she gave a gentle tug and I felt the placenta slither out of me. The midwife checked me and told me I had one tiny tear that she wasn’t even sure needed a stitch, but she decided to put one in just in case. I barely noticed. She quickly felt my uterus, said it was all good, and left.

Den and I cried for a good while. He kissed my forehead and told me that I was amazing. I was so happy I got through it without an epidural. I was just in awe of what my body had done, what I had just accomplished. I spent many years fearing childbirth, and now suddenly I was on the other side.

My body started shaking shortly after. I realized it must be the crash of my hormones – I hadn’t been prepared for that, as we had never made it to the class on what happened after birth. I couldn’t stop shaking for around half an hour. It was very strange feeling.

I was impatient for them to remove the IV. I asked the nurse if she could take it out, and out it came. I got up to go to the bathroom and she showed me the pads, the mesh underwear. I don’t really remember it hurting too bad… I actually felt quite good, physically. I certainly didn’t feel like I had just been through labor and given birth.

We were encouraged to order dinner before the kitchen closed for the night. So we did.

A little later I realized that I smelled really really bad. BO in the worst way. Den encouraged me to take a shower. I didn’t really want to – I think I wanted to just lay in bed and do nothing at all – but he finally convinced me. It felt wonderful. I felt clean, and in some ways released. But when I stepped out I left little watered-down droplets of blood on the floor, reminding me of my wounds.

The nurse shift changed and our new nurse introduced herself. She told us she’d be with Devin all night, taking photos and footprints, dressing him and getting him ready and that we could ask for him at any time of the night and she’d bring him. She was so very sweet. We both knew that we wanted to see Devin again, but there was the unspoken understanding between us that we didn’t really want to do it yet. We were scared. So we let her go and take care of him while we watched TV in a daze.

At 10pm she came in and said that she was done and asked if we wanted to see him. I swallowed my fear and said okay, now was as good as any time. She left to get him. I heard his cart squeaking as she wheeled it down the hallway. I don’t know why I remember that, but I do. Den and I clutched each others hands. It felt like I couldn’t breathe. How do you face meeting your dead son?

The nurse showed him to us, quietly said how beautiful he was. Den and I cried.

She handed him to me. He was swaddled in a blanket, a knit hat on his head. I took him gently, held him in my arms like I would any newborn. I cried and cried, so much I couldn’t see his face through my tears. I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see his imperfections. I felt him in my arms, the heavy weight of a baby, MY baby. I hunched over and rocked him and bawled. I thought my heart would break in that moment, that it would literally shatter in my chest.

Someone – her? me? – set him down on the bed in front of me. Den and I just looked at him. Looked at his nose, his mouth, his little fingers. I couldn’t stop staring at his fingers. I stroked them gently with my fingers, I put my pointer finger underneath his, as if he was a newborn holding on. I asked the nurse if she could get handprints for me, I really wanted prints of his little fingers. She said yes, of course, she would do that for us.

We didn’t take long. I really have no idea how long he was with us, but it wasn’t very long in the grand scheme of things. We didn’t unwrap him to see his feet or his body… I guess in many ways I was just too scared. He’d been dead for days and it hurt so indescribably much to see his skin like that. sometimes I wonder, but most of the time I am at peace with what we did.

Den kissed his fingers and then touched Devin’s forehead with them. We said goodbye to our son and the nurse took him away. She said we could see him anytime we wanted, that he would be nearby with her, we just had to ask. But we never did.

Den crashed after that… I could see all the energy leave him, everything he had was just gone. He unfolded the chair into a bed and pushed it right up against my hospital bed. We clung to each other that night. I have never felt so close to my husband, so absolutely desperate to never ever be let go. We couldn’t physically cuddle in the bed situation, but we layed with our faces inches apart, holding hands.

He fell asleep. I layed awake for hours. The room was dark, but there was some very soft lights glowing. I stared at the octagonal recessed ceiling, memorizing the shape of the ceiling tiles. The thoughts wouldn’t leave me, the pictures in my mind… my heart beat loudly in my chest. I felt like I was in some horrible nightmare that I couldn’t get out of. I heard a baby cry down the hall. I turned on the TV to watch Law & Order.

The morning came slowly, and I was glad when it did. It seemed a lot easier to handle things in the light. At 6am my night nurse came in to say that she was going off shift and if it was alright that they’d take Devin now to the morgue. We said it was fine. She brought in a Certificate of Birth and Devin’s memory box, a small box covered with handmade paper, with his clothes and footprints and photos. Den’s name was spelled wrong, but she did a new one for us. I wanted everything to be just right. After she left I opened the memory box and looked at the little things that were Devin’s. We cried some more. We didn’t look at the photos. I couldn’t, yet. I touched the box softly and put it carefully aside.

We ordered and ate breakfast. The day nurse came in to check on me, make sure I had everything I needed, make sure my uterus and blood pressure were good. She said we could leave anytime. We were in the middle of watching a movie – Second Hand Lions – so we stuck around. It was a fantastic movie… we found ourselves laughing. It was so strange. It felt good to laugh, to forget for little brief moments, why we were in the hospital. It was uplifting.

As the movie ended I got dressed in my sweatpants and sweater that I had worn to my appointment the day before. I stood at the mirror and stared at myself for a while. The clothes were the same, but everything – everything – was different. We gathered up the few things we had… my purse, the memory box… and walked out of the room.

On the elevator was someone with a baby in a carseat. I didn’t look. I stared at the buttons. I squeezed Den’s hand. We walked past the gift shop and out into the sunlight, holding hands.

During my pregnancy I started seeing a chiropractor to help with the increasing backaches, and found that it was fantastic. After giving birth, after going back to work, I’ve finally gone back to help everything back into place. Today they took x-rays – usually the first thing they do with new patients, but I was pregnant at the time so they couldn’t.

I’ve always had lower back pain. When I started working (at 18) I went to the doctor to figure out why, because it was so very bad. He looked me over and pronounced me “fine.”

Well you know what? I’m not “fine.” I’m not some mutant, but I’m not fine either. Xray showed that my L5 vertebra is fused with my sacrum, which is not typical. She said she sees about 10% of her patients with it, so it’s not this rare thing, but it’s not exactly how it’s supposed to be either. She gently pushed around the L4 vertebra and said, “You carry your weight here instead.” Ow, I said. Yeah. That’s where it always hurts. That’s where it’s always hurt. Apparently the fused vertebrae cause a more prounced curve of my lower back, just like Den has always commented on.

I feel a little irritated that my old doctor, years ago, never bothered to even check it out. I know he was an old-fashioned type where “if it aint broke, don’t fix it.” He was also the one who delivered me via c-section because my mom’s pelvis was “too small.” But mostly I’m just irritated that I’ve been living in pain for years simply because a doctor never said, “Your back really hurts? Hey, have you seen a chiropractor?” Of course it’s all a moot point now.

Oh also, she told me I need to stop sleeping on my stomach, for my neck’s sake. Ugh! You know how happy I was to be able to sleep on my stomach again after giving birth?! I firmly believe that was the biggest reason I had trouble sleeping when pregnant… not the pregnancy itself, but the fact that I was forced to sleep on my side!

All in all I’m pretty damn happy to be seeing a chiropractor. I had been having shooting pains down my left leg and a whole lot of soreness in my lower back… after one visit I felt a ton better. It’s kind of cool to not have back pain.

I had an interview today for a job. A job that is not close and will be a bit of a pain to drive to, but comes with health insurance. And I’m going to double-check just to be sure, because at this point I’m feeling all sorts of anxiety about lots of different things, but it’s health insurance that should cover IVF. The interview went very well and I do not anticipate any problems with my references. I expect to be offered the job sometime next week.

I am, quite honestly, kind of terrified. It’s an easy job – a bank teller – but I have this pit of fear in my stomach. Starting a new job means meeting new people, learning new skills, struggling to figure it all out and hoping you’re doing a good job of it. Starting a new job [almost] always sucks. I haven’t held a real job like this for over three years. Actually, it’s been closer to 6 years for this type of formal business job – the rest were working with instructors and peers at my college (which I find a lot less stressful, since I already knew them). Den just keeps looking at me funny and saying, “It’s a job as a teller.” I know that. But I just keep thinking, what if I screw up? It’s not like they’re going to just throw me to the customers and expect me to figure it out as I go along, but gah. I’m just so nervous.

I just have so much swirling around this job. The possibility of IVF is huge and makes this job Important (thus more anxiety). If this all works out we could be looking at starting IVF in Nov/Dec.

But then I think… I’m not supposed to be doing this. I’m supposed to be raising a baby right now. And I’m just terrified about taking this step forward into accepting our current situation. I’ve been keeping my schedule completely open and flexible for three years now, anticipating the baby that will “soon” be here to look after. Filling that just seems so scary to me. And it’s not like I can’t or won’t quit the job to stay home with a child when one comes along. It’s not like I’m signing my life over here. But somehow, to me, this signifies an acceptance of something that I don’t really want to accept.

But I’m not a mommy – not to a child here on earth. I do not have responsibilities keeping me home. In fact, staying home is making me more than a little stir-crazy and this may very well be the thing that I need to get myself sorted out.

And it’s time. I’ve spent the last four and a half months grieving. Waiting. Now it’s time to start living.

I am not really very good with change. Can you tell?

One year ago today I got a positive pregnancy test and my life changed forever. It’s strange how far away we are from that day now, and yet how very similar we sit. The last year has been completely amazing and I am thankful I was able to experience it all.

::

I am feeling very anti-social (yet desperate for someone to talk to), I think I’m getting sick again, and I hurt my back on the trampoline yesterday. Today has not been a spectacular day.

Growing up we had a trampoline. We didn’t get it until I was a teenager, and only because we (my brother and I) begged, but we got one. We loved that thing. I used it a lot, both of us did. I just loved the feeling of flying in the air, knowing that I was in control.

When I was suffering from the worst of my depression, after I graduated high school, I would frequently go outside in the midst of my anger freakouts and just jump as high as I could. Sometimes I’d beat the trampoline, venting my overwhelming emotions in the only way I have ever physically let myself. I never scream, I never punch bags or throw things. But I let myself slam into that trampoline.

I was sad when I moved. It’s weird not having it. I am just really so fond of it.

Friends of ours have a trampoline. Normally if we’re over there so are a bunch of other peoples’ kids, so I just stay away from it – it’s not like I’m going to interrupt their fun. Last year I was doing IVF (read: getting fat and sore) and then pregnant. I certainly didn’t touch it then.

So yesterday when we were hanging out at that friend’s place I eyed the trampoline. I’ve lost a lot of that weight I’ve been carrying. I’m no longer pregnant. Plus I was feeling a little bit emotional, and the idea of sneaking out back behind the trees to jump was too much to ignore. So I did.

Boy does my body function differently than it used to. I felt wobbly, which is foreign for me on a trampoline. Landing on my back and bouncing back up again felt a little off… obviously I wasn’t displacing my weight quite right. After a little bit it started to come back though. It felt more familiar under my feet.

I got brave enough to try a flip. And… okay, I missed. I landed on my butt about 6 times. My body felt so heavy going around… not in a heavy weight kind of way, but it’s like I forgot how to tuck my body in to spin quickly. It took a lot of effort to haul myself over, and I couldn’t quite get my legs under me in time. There’s no harm or danger in that, by the way – front flips are fun because if you “miss” you just land indignantly on your rear end, and one of the first things you learn on a trampoline is how to fall gracefully! So I just landed with a frown and an “umph!” and then tried again. But I did it! And once I landed one of them it’s like my body said, “Oh, right!” and I landed three in a row. I got off feeling quite pleased, panting heavily from my effort.

A couple hours later my neices (7 years old) wanted me to come jump with them. So I did. We went over and I bounced with them a little bit. They are of course not as steady on their feet as an experienced teenager would be, so it was just light bouncing so they wouldn’t fall down. We ran around, they talked my ear off, we layed on the trampoline and watched the clouds. (One looked distinctly like a pig roasting. I swear to god.) Then we’d get up and bounce some more.

That’s about when I said, “Ow.” I shrugged my shoulders – that hurt. Eh. I stuck it out a little bit longer, but finally I had to excuse myself and go sit down by the pool. It didn’t get any better.

By the time we drove home shrugging my shoulder caused a jolt of pain in my right shoulderblade. This morning the sharp pain was gone, but my entire upper back feels sore as hell. Something feels off.

Did I mention I’ve been seeing a chiropractor who’s been trying to put my spine back in order? Hahaha. Yeah. I already have an appointment set for tomorrow, thank the light! I’m thinking she’s not going to be so thrilled with my great effort in fucking my back up on her.

Maybe 140 is still too much weight for my body to carry in stress like that. Maybe my body’s just not ready to do stuff like that again yet. Either way 25 feels far too young to be wrenching my back this badly by jumping on a trampoline. I am betrayed!

If the chiro says I should not be doing that anymore I’ll be asking her what I can do so that I one day can. I have a feeling that from now until I get pregnant again I am not going to be able to let this go. The trampoline was once my sanctuary. I cannot accept that it is no longer an option for me.

On a day when you just learned that a deadline is two weeks sooner than you thought it was and your boss is melting down and you realize you’re going to have to pull a couple of almost-all-nighters to catch up, what is the last thing you want to hear? In my case it’s, “Honey, can I ask you a big, big favor?”

I could have blown him off, I guess. It wasn’t super important in the grand scheme of things (just important to him). But I sighed and shut down my laptop and drove all the way home to grab something he’d forgotten. Baseball. He plays baseball for “fun” (although what those men find fun I consider severe punishment. You should see his poor legs! And they certainly don’t treat it as “fun” when they lose!). So I found the field and dropped off his uniform shirt.

My idea was to work on some stuff on my laptop while watching the game. I did not account for three important factors:

1) My back still hurts. No desk = more pain.

2) Bugs. I couldn’t sit still, I had to keep whacking bugs on my arms. ICK. Not a good working condition.

3) I did not expect a bunch of friends of the ballplayers to show up with their toddlers. Mostly men, with little 2 year old boys. All running around screaming/laughing directly behind me. I ignored it for a little bit, but the bugs kept interrupting my thought processes and then I’d hear the kids again. Toddlers don’t usually get to me that bad. But today it seemed another parent arrived with a stroller every 10 minutes and I just couldn’t take it any more.

I packed up quickly before I had an all-out meltdown, said goodbye to Den, and cried all the way to my car. Then spent the drive home in a kind of numb post-cry state.

I spent the rest of the evening and into the night working at my computer. Good progress has been made. I feel a little less like screeching.

So back to the favor. He promised me that he would do anything he could to help me out since I did him such a big favor on a really bad day for favors! I thought for a while. Sometimes he tries to tempt me with buying me something, but I say to him DUH that’s our joint money so I’m no better off! Then when I got home I found it sitting right in front of me: the kitchen. With pots and pans still dirty from the dinner he cooked yesterday, the dishwasher full of clean dishes I haven’t gotten around to putting away, the counter covered with empty boxes (why?!) and other random items that never made it back into the cupboard. So when my husband called I said, “You’re going to clean the kitchen.” He agreed. Told me to leave it all, he’ll get to it first thing after work tomorrow, clean it all.

As I was working I’d wander into the kitchen to grab a quick snack and freeze at the sight. I’d think to myself, shit, I should put the dishes away and wash the pots and pans so I can clear off the counter. You know that sinking feeling, that if you don’t do it now it’s only going to get worse.

And then I realized, I don’t have to worry about it! I can grab my snack and skip out of the kitchen and get back to work completely guilt-free!

Best returned favor ever. Or it will be. Ahhhhhhh.

::

Today when I saw my chiropractor I sheepishly admitted I’d done something stupid. I told her about the trampoline. She looked at me with dismay. “You’re not ready for that!” Yep. Yep, I figured that out. I felt like holding my hand out so she could smack it and tell me I was a bad girl. LOL

The good news is that she says I will certainly be jumping on a trampoline one day again. The bad news is that it won’t be now. Or soon. She reminded me that pregnancy does a number on your body and you need time to heal. I guess I just forget. I feel so good most of the time, you know? Most women after pregnancy have a newborn to take care of so they don’t even consider getting on a trampoline or whatnot. I don’t have that anchor to remind me to take it easy.

But my body has clearly had enough and it’s telling me to go to sleep. My neck is hurting and my arm is going numb. *sigh* Time for sleep… if I can.

Very very busy week at work today. Just so tired. BUT being busy busy has kept me in a pretty good mood… no time to sit and feel bad, you know? When driving home I realize I didn’t think of Devin at all today… or our current TTC stuff. I’m just so immersed in what I’m doing that it’s all I have mental space for. Once upon a time I would have hated that. Now I welcome it. I’m hoping I get this job so I can be busy all the time. I’ll have weekends to look forward to like normal people.

I’ve never done a 40-hour work week. It’ll be interesting to see how it goes. Den said to me, “There comes a time in an adult’s life when that’s what you have to do.” I responded with, “Yes… but I just thought it would be after I’d raised my kids.” :( Life throws curveballs. I just never expected to be where I am now. I was going to have kids in my early twenties, stay at home to raise them, and go to work when they reached school age. Instead I’m 25, no kids to raise, and I’m trying to figure out what on earth to do with my time. I think I’m figuring it out now.

::

I feel like I’m going in a different direction. We did traditional medicine for our infertility and we know it worked. If I had the option to do IVF right now I would do it, no question… but right now it’s also barred to us for a time. I’ve never really been into “alternative” medicine at all – no judgement for those who do it, it’s just simply never been my thing.

But seeing a chiropractor has changed my mind to a degree. I really feel cared for when I go, and when I leave I feel better… about myself, my body, my life. It’s a good feeling that lasts for a while, and that’s on top of the physical improvement she makes on my back pain! And I just feel like that is something special that I am interested in pursuing further. Whole body treatment. Not just fiddling with my reproductive organs. Let’s look at the big picture and figure out how we can make me better.

I found a website, an online directory for all kinds of alternative therapies in this local area. I am very lucky to live where I do, there are so many options.

Of course acupuncture is very popular among the infertility crowd, but I have to say I’ve never felt very excited about it. I’m looking for more hands-on. I like the idea of massage, but the spa massages I have gotten in the past always left me feeling a little disappointed. They’re not connecting with me somehow. I feel like they’re running through a script, and they don’t “listen” to my body. I want someone who understands. I need something more that connects with the underlying issues and is working to heal it. I love how my chiropractor runs her hands down my spine, feeling it, and knows exactly what’s wrong. Just a quick feel and she says, “Oh, here and here,” and lightly touches the exact two places that have been bothering me. I want that for the rest of my body. I want that for my soul.

I want someone to know what’s wrong without me having to explain it. I hate walking into my general practitioner’s office and having to explain what’s wrong with me. The response is usually “Sounds like ___,” or, “It’s probably ___.” I know they can’t be running full screens for every little sniffle, but damn, what’s the point of a doctor then?

I received my insurance notifications for the last couple doctors visits I’ve had – chiro and GP. The chiro visit was $40 total. The GP was $180. Guess which one helped me more? And which one spent more time with me actually talking and connecting and fixing me?

Right now I don’t really know what I’m looking for. Bodywork, acupressure, therapy of some sort… I don’t know. I know we have limited funds to work with, but I also know that I need to do something more than what I’m doing now.