Down The Rabbit Hole

This is me with the ancient walled city of St. Paul de Vence in the background. This picture is taken from the backyard of the villa where we are staying. More pics to come.

I leave for France tomorrow, and today I had lunch with the beautiful and fabulous Stacie. Stacie is going to cater my 30th birthday party in a couple weeks, so we were meeting to discuss menu ideas and other such details. But that took up about ten minutes of our two hour lunch, because the rest of the time we talked about a million other things. I feel like I’ve known her for years. Thanks for a lovely afternoon, sweets!

My wonderful darling husband presented me with my birthday gift a couple weeks early last night.

I know, right? Holy shit! I was totally floored. It’s the black one, and it is so sleek and beautiful, and I love the keyboard and the screen and wow is it fast. Love Love Love. I’m so spoiled

My old computer had just started to crap out, too. It was doing this weird thing where windows would scroll up and down super fast even if I wasn’t touching the trackpad. And it took forever to recover after restart.

I hadn’t been planning on taking my computer to France, but now that I have this lovely new toy you’d have to pry it out of my cold dead hands.

Going to see Ryan Adams on July 19 at the Wilshire Theater in Beverly Hills. Squeee!

Except Ticketmaster.com is retarded and wouldn’t let me buy the three tickets I wanted all at once, I had to buy them one at a time, so my friends and I are all near each other, but not sitting together. Stupid Ticketmaster.

Clea DuVall was in my yoga class today. I feel like I see her around town all the time. I think of all the celebrities that I have seen here in L.A., I have seen her the most – at least four or five times. Most recently, this past weekend I saw her sitting on a bicycle on some corner here in the valley waiting to cross the street. I have also seen her on Melrose in front of the Urth Cafe, but that was a couple years ago.

I’ve also seen Camryn Manheim twice, and Tony Danza a handful of times, but, seriously, who cares about them.

Meeting Megan on Sunday night was awesome, but boy did it hurt the next day! We got a little carried away with the cocktails and merriment, and I was down for the count with a migraine all day yesterday. Oh well, it was totally worth it, because Megs? She rocks. So funny, and warm and beautiful, with a gorgeous smile and hearty laugh. We also met up with a couple other friends of hers for a drink at the Formosa, and those guys were awesome too.

I love the internets. How else could I have met Megan, or any of the other countless people I call my “internet friends”? How cool.

Now we shall all hold hands and sing “It’s A Small World After All”.

We had a great meeting with my doctor this morning, which basically consisted of him telling us how confident he is that I’m going to get pregnant soon. I won’t go into specifics, I’ll just say that I’m feeling really really positive about it right now. We’re going to call him after we get back from France in a few weeks (did I mention we’re going to France? We’re going to France. I love France.), and we’ll get started! I’m actually excited about it. About sticking needles into my stomach and ultrasound wands up my hoo-ha. Hmmm. Remind me I said this in about four weeks when I’m bitching about it all.

Those are real people in my computer, after all!

This weekend my internet world and my real world will collide for the first time, when I meet Megan for dinner and drinks in Hollywood! I’ve enjoyed her tipsy tales of Chicago and her wicked sense of humor from afar for several years now, and it will be awesome to experience it in person.

I am so excited and happy right now! Can’t wait, Megs!

Today is my due date – or would have been, had I not had a miscarriage. I was kind of dreading the day as it approached, but I’m not as upset as I thought I was going to be, just more contemplative. I miss my baby. I really would have liked to have met him, felt him grow inside me, taken care of him and kept him safe while he grew.

But I guess that just wasn’t meant to happen. He would have stayed if he could. I feel in my heart that my baby loved me and knew that I would have been a good mom to him. I can still feel his energy, a very small little light that is with me wherever I go, and I think I always will.

I’m moving forward with my life, getting my heart and my body ready to try to get pregnant again. I’m learning to quiet my mind and find peace with the path that I am on. But I will never forget my baby, the hope and joy he brought me, or the sadness I felt at his loss.

I will never forget.

I haven’t really been in the mood for posting lately, mainly because I just don’t know what to say. There’s so much to say, but I just haven’t felt like saying it. But I think that it would be good for me to say it, so here goes.

I have been one big fat ball of nerves since I got back from Hawaii, and especially since my accident. I felt so good when we came back from our trip, relaxed and healthy, and as soon as I stepped off the plane in L.A., all my neuroses were waiting for me at the gate. “Hi!” they said. “We missed you! Did you miss us?” And they jumped right back in my brain and threw a party. A big, raucous party where they all sat around and did Jaeger shots.

I immediately started obsessing about my cycle and babymaking again, so much so that I had Hawk call my doctor. See, my doctor is always very calm and confident with me, telling me that everything is going to be fine and pretty much not to worry my pretty little head about it. But he’s straighter with Hawk. No less confident or optimistic, but straighter. And this whole time that he’s been telling me that everything is fine, I haven’t felt fine. If everything is fine, then why is my cycle so irregular? If everything is fine, then (fill in the blank).

So Hawk called and got the real story out of him. He says that I have an ovarian dysfuntion which causes a hormonal imbalance, and while he’s confident that with his help we will have a baby, he doesn’t think I could sustain a pregnancy on my own.

Ouch.

The first two days after that news I was inconsolable. On one hand it felt good to validate what my instincts had been telling me all along, that things were not “fine” like everyone had been telling me. On the other hand, to me it confirmed that I am broken. That my body doesn’t work right. That we really can’t do this on our own, that in order to have a baby I need to put myself through the bloodtests, and the ultrasounds, and the injections. That my stupid body is the reason I lost my baby. That, even if I manage to get pregnant again, that won’t be the end of the challenge, but the beginning. KEEPING me pregnant will be a challenge as well. I do not, repeat, do not want to miscarry again. That, my friends, is an experience I could truly live without (even though it taught me so much and blah blah blah – you know what I mean).

But one of the women that I work with suggested to me that I look at this as an “and” instead of a “but”. “I have a hormonal imbalance and may not be able to sustain a pregnancy on my own AND I have a great doctor who knows how to help me”. It also helped me not obsess quite so much about my fertility signs, because, hey, of course they aren’t going to look like the internet says they should, because my hormones are fucked up.

We have a meeting with my doctor next Friday to set out a Game Plan for Successful Pregnancy. I like to imagine a wipe board and the doctor wearing a whistle around his neck, drawing out plays like a “Conception Coach” or something. He told Hawk when they spoke that he is completely confident that if we set out a treatment plan and follow it, that I will be pregnant within nine months. The doc has never been anything but confident, and I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who makes promises if he doesn’t think it can be done. I don’t think he’d be telling us that it is going to work if he didn’t think it would.

But of course, I am scared and retreating to that pessimistic place that I find it so easy to hide. I hate it FUCKING HATE IT that the first place I go to is “What if it doesn’t work? What if we go through the plan and I put myself through all that and it doesn’t work?” Why can’t I think to myself, “Thank God, now we know there’s a problem, and we’ve got a doctor who knows how to work with it, and this means that we have a really good chance of having a baby! This is totally going to work!” I have moments like that, interspersed through all of the negative crap. Glimmering moments where I think, Dude, this is totally going to work. But those are few and far between. I don’t believe in “The Secret” and that all crap, but I do believe in the power of positive thinking. I just wish I could actually do it.

NEXT: The Meds