Dag and I had to go out on a mission immediately as some of the lams had decided the grass was greener on the other side of the fence rather literally, and for some reason also on the road. So we chased them back much to Dag's excitement.
Lambs trying to camouflage themselves.
Last weekend, on Saturday, it was also my 33th birthday. I rarely celebrate mine; last time was when K and I threw our very fabulous True Blood feast when we turned 30. Usually I have been at work on my birthdays as a grown up, first in the harbour (where one tended to spend the whole day as shifts are long), now on stage. This year was no different!
As those of you who have hanged around here for a longer time know, my blog also gets a year older along with me - so we are entering our eight year here now. That is a long time I tell you!
If someone ever wondered about the rather imbecile but catchy name of my blog it has been explained here on a few occasions back in the days but we can do it one more time; the idea of a blog was born way before it actuallystarted, when blogging looked a bit different that now. I had just found fashion blogs that consisted of outfits and outfits only, and I found them both inspiring and a bit silly at the same time. So The Freelancer's Fashion Blog was an ironic idea - I have always had a big wardrobe, but from time to time (a lot like now) I haven't really been able to use it properly. Back then in 2006 and -07, when thinking about blogging, I had finished my studies and worked with freelance graphic design as well as in the harbour. So I was basically working most of the time (like now, but in a different matter) and felt that I mainly was wearing black tights or leggings (or underwear) and a black t-shirt or a top, when in front of my computer or under my workwear. What people who work from home often look like... And I thought about how that would make it in a fashion blog, different versions of something that looks just the same. Well, that blog never happened. When my blog then started it was all about drawithe outfits though and staying incognito -it took until March the next year until I posted a photo of myself - and as with most blogs this one slowly developed into something more personal.
Speaking of outfits, there is of course a reason why I have been walking around mainly in stretchy wear and sneaky yoga pants, other than the one that I am always running from workouts to rehearsals and classes nowadays- I got pregnant again! And unlike the pregnancy that ended in a miscarriage this summer, when I had felt strangely well when I thought back on it, I this time felt bad and swollen, just like I had with Dag, feeling like I was hungover for two months. Until week seven was over I was a bit scared every time I went to the toilet that I would see blood, and was reliefed when I passed the weeks of the previous miscarriage. I had my first prenatal appointment and had all future ultras and appointments set now, as is the custom. But, even though I am lucky enough to get pregnant easily - so far always on the first try, I am apparently not as lucky after that. Last Friday, the day before my 33rd birthday, I had an ultra sound and found out I had had a so called missed abortion; the foetus had died a few weeks earlier. Well, I could almost see it right away - the baby in the monitor looked too small for it's weeks, although I kept thinking that perhaps they always grow miraculously just the week after this. But I moved my face from the screen to the doctor's face and saw he looked serious and then he told me he could not see a heart beat. As the first miscarriage came rather slowly I had time to let it sink in and it was an event that made me disappointed and frustrated, but this was totally different. I couldn't imagine it could go wrong a second time because everything had felt so normal! Not now, not this one! I was rather shocked. Not just because of the loss of the baby-to-be, but because of how much we already had planned with everything else around the fact we would have a baby in April; jobs, life, arrangements. It's because I was looking at maternity dresses onine already. I shouldn't have! Everything had been just right, damnit! But it wasn't.
I had a lot of things to take care of during that day, which was awful to go trough, and I skipped out on some because I was so tired and just wanted to lie in bed. My body still felt pregnant, swollen and nauseous, and I was distressed over the fact that it was not over totally yet, but I would still have to abort it during the week to come. The thought of the pain that might bring, and all the arrangements around that felt the worst for the moment. I would have to call lots of places and re-arrange meetings and cancel classes and tell them I had the flue or something because you don't tell people you lost a pregnancy. You could, but you don't, because they will get uncomfortable. Too much info, stick to the flue.
As Scandinavia is ruled by the Jante -law (the 'don't think you're any special'-one, which in cases like this translates to: don't think your pain is any worse than anyone else's), and as I've grown up in a society that looks down on self-pity (well, don't they all?) and go by the mentality that one should shut the fuck up and quit whining, I thought it was best to do so. And as everyone keeps telling you: it is very common and it happens a lot. So it is. I had a lot to do during the weekend too; had to perform and hold a workshop and first the thought of all that felt rather horrifying. But it actually helped to be busy and around people and kept my mind off the fact there was a little dead beginning of a human lying inside of me. On Monday I went to the hospital and got the pills to empty the womb and so today this second one was over with less physical pain than I had expected. (For the record, for those who might read this in a similar situation: they gave me Cytotec, which is what they use over here pretty much as the only option, a drug I have had once before -I presume- many years ago for a similar reason and that was a very painful experience. Well at least I was prepared for what the beginning of labour would feel like when the day that came. The almighty internet is also full of mainly horror stories on said drug, as you see I of course googled a lot waiting in horror for it to kick in, but let it be said here for those who have an interest in this: This time I was stocked up with strong painkillers and it was not all that bad, by evening the medicine had done it's job. So it worked for me.)
As I wrote about the first miscarriage I thought it would be strange not to mention this second one. And, as I said the last time, when you have some sort of situation going on, you google all you can find about it, and then you google some more. (I always search in three languages to get as much out of it as possible). You want to and need to read about it. There is always someone out there who feels better reading about things like this, because of how one can relate, even though this story here is not one of those miracle stories where there was still a living twin inside! (which will only give you false hope, because you know, there seldom is).
But it is still a bit odd, how we are not really supposed to mention miscarriage, and are not supposed to feel bad about it either. It is something of a taboo. With a friend who was, and luckily still is, as many weeks pregnant as I was, we talked about how you usually feel your worst and weirdest in the beginning of pregnancy but you are not supposed to talk about it because things can go wrong , and then if they do go wrong and you feel terrible you can't talk about it either because no one knew about it and you know, it does happen all the time.
So, no use of dwelling on things one can not change! I have a lot of work and projects that I will concentrate on the rest of this year, and also on the wonderful little fella in the Mickey Mouse coat that I shall snuggle up!
And come the weekend, I will drink some wine, oh yes.
