Monday, December 29, 2008

Dear Coworker Mom of Teens

I'm so happy to know someone close to my age who enjoys being a mom. Really. When we first met and you would tell me stories of your teenagers and your parenting, I was in awe and frankly, I admired both you and your husband. You guys seem to be on the same page when it comes to parenting and your kids seem to be reaping the reward for this fact. Congrats! Kudos! Way to go!

It's awesome to know that parents really do give a shit because there are so many parents in my life who just don't give a rat's ass about their kids. I mean, of course they love their child(ren) but they just don't seem to realize that it takes a lot of work to raise a child...they don't seem to realize that it takes more than birthing the child and feeding him.

Because we were kind of close coworkers, I shared with you the fact that I became pregnant in July. I tried not talking about the pregnancy a lot with you because it was so new and so fresh and I didn't want it to rule our each and every conversation. Maybe I was just preparing myself for what was to come: the loss. I don't know. But when I did have the surgery and the loss was official I couldn't tell you face-to-face about it... Do you remember? I had to email you to let you know that I couldn't talk about it in person or via email. Do you remember this?

I appreciate that, as time went on, you would stop by and ask how I was doing without asking about how I was dealing with the loss. I do appreciate the fact that you did what you could to let me know that you were there for me if I needed you.

When you told me that a sister in law (or someone similar) lost a baby a month before giving birth and that at least I didn't endure that, I was hurt. Bad. But I knew you didn't intend on hurting me. I knew that you were truly trying to make me feel better. And I understand that it's really not your fault since you haven't experienced an early pregnancy loss and since there's no real discussion on the matter. I get that. I really do.

But what I don't understand is how you can continue to talk to me day in and day out about kids... about what your daughter is doing... about the team your son is on... about how much time and money is involved in raising kids... about how cute little ones are around the holidays...

I can't do it anymore. I very rarely talk to you about anything personal. I haven't for months. Oh wait! I haven't since my loss - nearly 5 months ago! I NEVER bring up kids - yours or someone else's. So why...Why the fuck do you continue to talk to me about your kids, about kids in general?

I totally understand that you haven't endured a loss and you like and love your kids and they rule your world. I totally understand that and I totally admire you for that... but can you try to understand that maybe I just cannot bear the kid talk? Can you try to understand that it's hard to talk about still? Can you try to understand that while my baby wasn't a "real baby" in that there was no heartbeat detected, that it was still MY BABY and that I don't have that anymore and that I'm still not a mom? Please.

Please try to understand that the reason I very rarely talk to you anymore is because of this. Please try to understand this before I have to spell it the fuck out for you. Please just shut the fuck up already. Please.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008


I've been doing well lately. Then I got AF this morning. Whatevs, right? I was pretty proud with the fact that I was dealing with it OK... compared to the breakdowns I was having the past couple months, at least.

I had a doc appt at 11:40 for my blood pressure (need new scrit). I get there right on time and wait and wait.

A little girl was there waiting with me. She was about 1.5 and all she could say was Da-Da but super loud. It was cute. She was cute. I smiled. Inside I welled up a bit though. I'm so gd selfish sometimes.

Then another couple comes in with a kid, about 6. I smiled at her, too but cried inside.

WTF? This isn't a gynie's office, what's with the kids? Oh yeah it's Dec 23 and no school. I'm such an idiot.

But it gets better.

I finally get called to see the doc. Yay, it's the one I like, the one who helped me with my shingles. While I'm waiting I look at his bulletin board with a homemade coloring that said Dr. CoolDoctor is the best. There were a bunch of photos of kids and the doc holding various newborns. I'm thinking he might be a gynie or a pediatrician. I didn't ask. I can't ask. Not just yet eh.

He comes in and we're talking and he's looking at my computerized chart and asks a question I haven't been asked in ages and didn't think I would be asked for a while: How many weeks are you?

I'm not mad, just sad. He didn't know he was basically punching me in the stomach with his question... although I swear I told them months ago to take it out of their system that I was pregnant.

I'm not, I replied. I had a missed abortion.

Oh my god, he replied, quickly. And that made me feel even worse. I'm so sorry. And I know he meant it. He's really a nice doctor.

If I was, I'd be like 28 weeks or something. Wow, huh. I think about it - specifically how far along I'd be - every so often. Everyone would know I was pg by now. Everyone. I'd be fat, but pg at least. Ha.

I'd spend Christmas Eve and Day with people doting on me, asking me how I'm feeling, how things are coming along. People would ask about the sex of the baby, names, nursery, etc. OMG it would consume my every waking moment.

But it doesn't cuz I'm not pg. I'm still not going to be a mom.

Holy fuck it's times like this when I wish I didn't insist on writing about everything and getting everything out of me. I know, in the long run, it's quite cathartic, but fuck me does it hurt right now... and it doesn't help that AF decided to visit today.

I'm OK. Just needed to get that out.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

How to write your memoir

Yeah so I'm turning all of this into a memoir - that's the goal, at least. It won't happen over night but I'm already finding it to be so damn cathartic that it's worth it, no matter how long it takes.

Here's an interesting article about writing a memoir I want to remember: article.

Saturday, December 13, 2008

All comments are more than welcome.

Below is a very rough draft of some info I want to include into a memoir I'm hoping to publish one day about early pregnancy loss... this piece is about the fact that I didn't always want to be a mom and how I finally came about to wanting to parent so bad. If you don't get that vibe through this, please let me know. If there are ANY questions or comments - be it about content, form, whatever - please let me know. Please.

I didn’t always want to be a mom. In fact, there was a time when I thought I would truly never get married and never have children because I simply didn’t want my children to have to go through what I did as a child – a product of divorce that occurred between Old World parents, a generation apart, who had no clue how to deal with divorce and their children at the same time.

I was the youngest of three and I’m sure if you were to speak with my older brother and sister, they’d tell you I was the spoiled one. Maybe it started out that way when I was first born in 1972, but I can assure you that it didn’t last that long.

Earliest memories include the whole family: Mama, Papa, Brother, Sister, and myself. Summertime memories are the ones that stick out the most for me. Memories like chasing and capturing fireflies in the early evening while anxiously awaiting the serenade from the ice cream truck; having water balloon fights with all the kids on the street we lived on during the hottest summer days; playing soccer in the alley after dinnertime with other neighborhood kids and waiting for my father to join us with some oranges that he would peel into a fancy chain, leaving us all marveling over how he made the chains while we enjoyed a wedge or two of the oranges; riding mopeds and bikes to the park to play for a while.

Weekends were typically spent traveling in the Ford Granada to the border between our state and the next where my grandparents had bought some land and were building a house. I’d always get stuck in the middle of the back seat and inevitably would end up getting car sick and needing Papa to pull the car off to the side of the road. When making the trek home, we’d always stop off at the McDonald’s closest to our home for cheeseburgers and I can remember always wanting a Big Mac but not being allowed one until I was around 10 or so.

Birthdays and Holidays always brought everyone together. Cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents… wherever we gathered for these special occasions, they were always big gatherings with plenty of food, drink, and laughter and nobody was ever left to be bored.

Life was pretty darn wonderful and very family-oriented.

When I was 9 in 1981, it all changed.

I went from being a very outgoing, mischievous child, to a shy introvert. I went from attending the same private school with the same kids I’d known my whole life, to attending six public schools in the following eight years. I went from having friends everywhere and anywhere I turned, to having one friend. I went from secure and happy, to cold and hungry. And it all happened without any justification which left my young mind and heart wondering, and oftentimes believing, that my parents’ decision to go their separate ways and all that occurred following that decision was because of something I did.

And that’s when I thought I would never get married, I would never have children.

It’s not that I didn’t like kids, it’s that I was so alone and sad and wrapped up in my own cold world that I could never imagine having my own child feeling like that... and because I knew no other and because nothing was ever really explained to me, I assumed that what happened to me would happen to my own children.

I hated my pre-teen and adolescent years. I hated that we lived on food stamps. I hated that there were times, a lot of times, when there was no electricity or heat. I hated that I had to drink milk that was made from powder that came from a big white box with green and black lettering. I hated being perceived as some na├»ve kid and feeling like there was nothing I could do to escape the life I was living. I hated my life so much that when I was around 14, suicide was on my mind all the time. I just couldn’t see past the misery that enveloped me. And hearing people tell me that I should enjoy life then because it didn’t get any better, certainly didn’t leave me wanting more. Fortunately I found a couple outlets to keep me going to the next day: writing in a journal and Bryan Adams’s music. Writing helped me release some heavy thoughts and Bryan Adams’s music led me to believe that I really wasn’t as alone as I felt.

It was also around that same time that I became an aunt for the first time in June of 1987. My sister, 7 years my senior, had given birth to my oldest nephew, D, a year after getting married while she was in the Air Force stationed in Turkey.

Two and a half years later in October of 1989, when I was 17, my sister gave birth to her second child, a girl. By then, she and her husband were back in the States and my mother flew out to help my sister during the first days of the life of her second child, K. A week later, I followed suit and visited my sister and her family.

And, thankfully, that’s when my life was forever changed again.

As soon as D came running into the room I was sleeping in and climbed into the bed I was sleeping on to visit with his “Aun’ Fish” for the first time in his two years of life, I knew I had a purpose. I knew there was a reason I was in this world.

His innocence, trust, and unconditional love was something that I had never experienced and as soon as he gave me, upon our very first encounter with one another, kisses and hugs and told me the three little words no other person in my world had ever uttered up to that point – I love you – I knew what life was all about. In that one moment, I knew why I hadn’t killed myself two years prior when I felt like there was nothing left for me. I knew that the greatest joy in life, the reason to live, was because of that little boy and what he represented.

That week changed my life and made me realize things I never knew existed: Life was good.

In 1990, I completed high school and started college that fall thanks to financial aid and the fact that my mother didn’t hold very high-paying jobs. I focused all of my energy on school and writing.

In May of 1992, my second nephew, J, was born to my older brother by three years who had recently married and lived nearby. J was the first baby I ever met as a newborn in the hospital on the day he was born. He was also the first newborn left in my care for a couple hours and boy could that child cry when he was hungry or needed a diaper changed!

I was quite content and pretty much in love with being an aunt and while my heart was warming up to the idea of at least opening up to the possibility of being in a relationship with another adult, the thought of having my own children still wasn’t really in the foreseeable future.

That summer I got my first taste of what being a parent might entail when I went to stay with my sister for several months. She needed my help with 5-year-old D and 2½-year-old K as her husband got a new job which he needed to be trained for in another state, so I played mom for what seemed like years although it was only a couple months. It was my first time being around kids for such a long time period, day in and day out, and it pretty much reiterated to me that I did not want children – at least at that point in my life (though I will admit that my thoughts about having children changed from an absolute “never” to a “maybe”).

Although it was a bit of a rough summer, and although I found my very first gray hair on my 20th birthday that September while I was still playing mom, I wouldn’t trade those months in for anything… Being a part of children learning and growing is a pretty amazing experience!

Nevertheless, I was pretty much ecstatic to leave and get back to being a regular early-twenty-something and threw myself back into college and writing. And after graduating college in 1994, I started opening up my heart toward others again and started spending a lot of time with family – especially nearby family like my brother and his family.

I enjoyed being “Auntie Chris” or “Ga-ga” to 2-year-old J and his big sister (from a prior relationship their mom had) V. I babysat a lot and even if I wasn’t babysitting, I was spending a lot of time at their house. Then when their parents started separating from one another in 1995 my life changed again; I had a new purpose and that purpose was to do whatever I had to do to make sure those kids never felt what I did when I went through what they were about to go through.

I ended up spending the next four years of my life playing surrogate mommy to J because my brother had custodial rights of J and I wanted to help out, so I moved in with them. And while there were some very trying times during those years, they were some of the best years of my life and I feel blessed to have been able to experience what I did.

I was there when J first learned how to ride his bike on his 5th birthday. No training wheels were ever even attached for this kid! I was the one that taught J how to tie his shoes. I was there to help him read and spell. I was there for all of his school functions – from preschool Holiday plays, to grade school performances. I was at all of his soccer games, cheering on J as he became a mini soccer star in the town we lived. I was there waking up with him every morning and making sure he had a breakfast and got on the school bus and made it to school in time. I was riding bikes with him after school in the summertime or building snowmen in the wintertime. I was there reading stories to him every night before bed.

There were so many days when I wanted to throw in the towel and start living my own life and then I’d come home, unlock that front door, and from up the stairs, I’d hear J yell out to me, “Auntie!!” His little feet pounded against the floor, vibrating the walls, as he rushed toward me to give me a hug.

It didn’t matter what happened that day, when that little boy greeted me each and every day with so much excitement, so much love, so much life… it was all worth it. Everything was worth it to see this child thrive and love life the way he did.

But it also hurt greatly because the fact of the matter was that I was not this child’s parent. He had a mommy and a daddy; he just didn’t get to see them as much as he did me because my brother worked nights and his mommy saw him every other weekend. So when J and I would go out to the store or something and someone would say, “Go ask your mom” or “Is that your mom?” or something relating mom to me, J would quickly answer, “No, that’s my aunt.”

And that’s the truth. I was, and am, his Aunt.

While I knew then that I was just his Aunt, I made a promise to do whatever I could for him, for all of “my kids”, to not endure the pain and heartache I did as a child when my parents divorced. So I pushed through the hurt and focused on the good, and this child deserved so much good, happiness, and joy.

Then when one millennium came to a close and a new one approached with big changes in sight, my life seemed to echo that time and as much as it pained me to leave J, it was time for me to start living life for me. So in January of 2000, at the age of 27, I moved out of my brother and J’s house and into my own apartment.

It was truly one of the most difficult things I ever had to do – to tell an almost 8-year-old boy who had been told by his own mother she was leaving four years prior, that I was leaving, too. The pain and heartache I felt that day was indescribable but I knew that at 27, I needed to start living my own life and start separating myself from my nephew because I truly loved the boy as if he were my own child, and it just wasn’t healthy for either of us.

I don’t have many regrets in my life to date other than not participating enough in life because for much of it – like my teens and early 20s – I felt as if I was just letting things happen instead of making things happen. So now I try to live my life in a way where I’m in control. It’s my life after all, and I’m only given one of them to live so why not try living it to its fullest?

I started realizing all of this when I made the decision to separate myself from J and move into my own place – and that’s the only reason I could go through with it. I loved that boy like no other and wanted nothing more than to stay there and continue helping him and watching him learn and grow. It was one of the greatest honors of my life to be such a part of his life all those years. But I needed to participate more in my own life and that realization is what pushed me into my own place.

Four months later in April of 2000, I met my now husband, S on the internet. God bless the internet! We met in person in June of 2000 and, after meeting and getting along with my first true love of my life, J, we’ve been together ever since.

We were married June 2007. J was our usher; D was my makeup artist; K caught the bouquet, while her baby daughter H, my great-niece, slept in her stroller.

Meeting 2-year-old D that first time nearly 20 years ago saved my life… and “my kids” have been an imperative part ever since. While I’m forever grateful to be blessed with great kids, the need to have one of my own, to parent a child who calls me mom, is so great and it was something S and I discussed very early on in the relationship because I simply couldn’t spend my time with someone who didn’t want to parent.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

The quiet one

Yesterday was interesting.. and it went down better than anticipated.

First up was a Holiday Luncheon party with a bunch of women I've come to love over an internet chat forum, of all places. :) It was awesome and I'm glad I went. Originally I declined the offer because I knew there was going to be several pregnant women there along with a couple newborns and I also had a baby's-already-born-baby shower to attend around the same time.

Anyway, I went to the Luncheon first and it was a blast! Next time we definitely need to reserve a place for longer than three hours. It's just not enough time for 50 women to come together and eat, drink, and be merry.

Unfortunately, I had to leave the luncheon earlier than the rest because of the baby's-already-born-baby shower I needed to attend for a friend who I haven't seen in at least five years, maybe more.

I've known the baby mama for over 20 years now and it was quite a strange trip to go back in time with her and some of her friends who've I've known as well. We didn't spend much time on the past because it was a baby shower for her baby girl, after all.

It was a little odd - the whole shower - but also very nice. My friend's sister really did a great job making the baby mama feel important.

I didn't talk too much, but that's nothing new for me. I also didn't make much eye contact, which I hate noticing. I felt very out of place being the only non-parent in the room. It was very hard when I would think about how every woman sitting at the table chatting away over some chili dip all had given birth. And it was even harder listening to them all talk about what they craved during their pregnancies or listening to little stories about their young ones.

By the grace of god - or something - none of the women I just met asked if I had a child. I'm not sure what I would've done because there were a couple times when I found myself fighting the tears and had to run off to the bathroom.

I left the shower after a couple hours, wanting to leave a couple hours sooner than I did and got stuck in traffic, of course. I called my husband on the way home and told him that I was a bit stressed because for the past seven hours, I was smiling smiling smiling when half the time I wanted to crawl into a hole to escape all the pregnancies and babies around me. I told him it was a bit rough for me and he said, "So you were the quiet one, huh?"


"You didn't say much at the shower, did you?" he asked.

"Well, no."

"You were the quiet one. Every party has one and you always wonder why they're so quiet. And now we know why."

Fucker. Made me cry.

When I got home, he was making dinner - a pasta dish. I ranted about this and that and he asked if I was sure I wanted the pasta and said, "I just want you to be happy. I haven't seen much of you today and when I have, you've been miserable. I just want you to be happy."


He was right. I was taking all my frustrations out on him. So I stopped. I whined and ranted and then I let it go... and it wasn't too hard to let go.

I'm OK.

Thursday, November 27, 2008


What an awesome, awesome, informative website:

It's about infertility but so much more. In the ten minutes I've been on the site, I feel so much more calm about all of this trying to make a family stuff. Really. Why did it take me so long to find such a tool?

Happy Thanksgiving

Last night, after I stuffed a couple cheeseburgers from White Castle in my mouth, after I couldn't hide the tears, S and I talked. He's not as bad of a listener as he thinks he is and for that I'm thankful. (I'm also thankful for White Castle, but not so much thankful for the vomiting that ensued at about 1:45AM as a result.)


Anytime I used to see my my dearly departed grandfather (I miss you so much, Ota!), he would ask me "What's new?" I would inevitably reply with a "Not much," and he would frown and laugh at the same time and shout in his thick accent, "Everything! Everything is new because today's a brand new day!"

Today's a brand new day and Ota was right - everything is new. And today I feel so much better than I did last night and for that I'm extremely thankful for this Thanksgiving morning. (I'm also extremely thankful for the memories and stories I have from of my wonderful Ota, but not so much thankful that he's no longer here.)

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Raw, raw, raw and so, so ugly.

You've been warned (up there in the title - it's about this post and what you might read).

I got my period about four hours ago and I'm not handling it well at all. I didn't cry as soon as I saw the pink on the tissue like I did the first periods after the d&c, but I cried all the way home. Actually, I didn't really physically cry during the drive home because I had to see where I was going, but I cried in my head and my heart and soul. And now I'm sobbing like a bitch and the tears won't stop falling and I can't breathe out of my fucking nose.

I just don't know how much more I can do this.

I really don't understand how others do this and for much longer periods of time. I mean, I *know* there are couples out there that have been trying for years and years to have kids. Some get pregnant and lose their babies. Some never get pregnant. How do they keep at it? How? This is not a rhetorical question! If you've happened to stumble on this, I'm sorry for the negativity, but please tell me *how* you keep doing this. Please!

It's not even fun anymore. I get excited to see egg whites, I tell S about it and he could care less. I'm tired of this. I know he doesn't want this as much as me, but I also know he wants it a little, at least, and I know he loves me and would do anything for me... so why the fuck won't he fuck me more during ovulation?!?

Did I mention this would be a raw and ugly post? Well, yeah, I did. Up there in the motherfucking title is where I mentioned it so if you're disturbed just move on because this is where I come to get it out of my head, get it out of my heart.

I'm fucking sick and motherfucking tired of this. It's just not fun. It actually never was. No, I take that back. It was a little fun and exciting at first, I will admit. But honest to god, after about the first month or so, it wasn't fun anymore.

Yeah, I like me some sex, but this waiting each and every fucking month is for the fucking birds. I can't take it anymore. I can't fucking take it.

And I feel like I'm in a fucking movie... precisely that fucking Baby Mama movie with Tina Fey. I'm the Tina Fey character. Or no, better yet, I feel like I'm in the movie Juno. I'm the Jennifer Garner character. Only there's no Juno character for me to get a baby from.

I don't know. I'm just really tired. And the timing just really sucks. I mean it's Thanksgiving tomorrow and I've been really trying to find something... anything... to be grateful for and just when I think I can do this, I can turn my spirits around and start to be more positive, I turn into a raging bitch because my boobs hurt and I've got cramps that feel like burning and scraping at the same time. And then it comes... my period. And out the window goes any hope for getting pregnant this month.

And once again, I'm left crying and feeling like shit... not because I'm not pregnant, but because I'm still not a mom. And I'm still not going to be a mom. And once again, I'm left wondering why the fuck my husband won't talk to me about adopting.

I just want to be a parent. A parent to a child who calls me Mom or Momma or Mommy and not just Auntie.

Oh god.

This is so, so hard. The holidays are here. It's all about families and good times. That's what it's all about: Life and the holidays - families and good times. I just want to be in the midst of that instead of continuously feeling like I'm on the fucking sidelines cheering everyone else on...


Tomorrow is a new day. A day to give Thanks. And I really really really do have so much to be thankful for; I really do.


Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Today's cramps

... feel very similar to the ones I had following the d&c and that does NOT make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. WTF?!?

Monday, November 24, 2008

I changed my mind

I don't think I'm pregnant.
I think I'm suffering from a horrific case of PMS.
I feel so completely overwhelmed with irritability right now - and for no fucking reason.
I feel like I could snap at any moment.
I'm almost ready to call a doctor, I'm so edgy right now.
And of course, couple that with cramps and burning/sore boobs and ... LOOK OUT!


Confession time

I've been cramping on and off for over a week. Today my boobs are hurting so much, they're burning a bit.

I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but I think I might be... pregnant. It's not impossible for it to happen, after all, and it's something we're definitely wanting to happen again.

I actually broke down to Stephen the other night - about a week ago, I think. He was in the other room on the computer and I was laying on the couch with one of the cats feeling really shitty. I called out to him and asked him to come over to me and before he reached me, I had tears in my eyes and I told him, "I'm terrified, but I think I might be pregnant."

He looked at me and saw that I was crying.

"I'm scared to death, baby," I continued, "because I'm afraid I might be pregnant and I'm afraid I'm not pregnant."

"That's deep," he said, trying to make me laugh.

He sat down next to me and held me for a minute and said, "It's OK to be afraid, but you can't stop living because you're afraid and you can't stop trying to get pregnant because you're afraid. You have to just do it."

He was absolutely right. It *is* OK to be afraid, but just because you're afraid doesn't mean you don't try.

I'm so grateful to be married to his man who loves me so much.

So the rest of the week and the weekend, I've been getting more and more cramps and my boobs have gotten sorer and sorer until this morning when I could barely move they hurt so bad. Just like when I was pregnant.

I realize that these are PMS symptoms (for me at least), but ever since the d&c, I haven't had any cramping or sore boobs prior to getting my period... and now I'm getting them tenfold?!? You can see why I might think I'm pregnant!

I, of course, want to be pregnant again... and up until I spoke with my wonderful husband about my fears, I was terrified of being pregnant again. But not anymore. I'm ready for this. I'm ready for pregnancy. And I'm beyond ready for motherhood.

But like I told Stephen last night, "I'm gonna be hella pissed if I end up getting my period after all this cramping and sore boobs!" What a tease!

For today and the rest of the week, I'm going to keep my eye on the prize and hope that Thanksgiving gives us something to be truly thankful for...

Friday, November 21, 2008

New Blog

In yesterday's post, I said I was going to change directions with my blog and try to help people understand in a greater fashion that early pregnancy loss is still a loss... but I decided that I can't do that here in this blog because I still need a place to expel my own thoughts regarding my own loss.

So I created a new blog - - and I'm hoping it can be helpful to someone out there who's suffered a loss, who is going through a loss, or who knows of someone who suffered an early pregnancy loss. It's definitely a brand spanking new blog and a work in progress...

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Changing things up a bit.

When I created this blog, I did so to clear my head and cleanse my heart after suffering a "missed abortion." I didn't want the anger and ugliness that came over me to invade the wonderfulness that filled my previous blog.

Well it's been nearly four months since, and while I use this blog as a crutch of sorts at times, I think it's time to change things up. I want to say more. I want to reach more people if I can. I want this place to be a place that people come to and leave feeling like they have a better understanding of early pregnancy loss, rather than leave feeling sad or pity (or disgust or whatever) for me. I want this to be more than just about me.

I've learned so much over the past four months... about early pregnancy loss, about empathy vs. apathy, about sorrow, pain, sadness, grief, mourning.

I've learned that early pregnancy loss isn't so uncommon.

I've learned that many women who suffer an early pregnancy loss have nowhere to really turn.

I've learned that others who haven't experienced an early pregnancy loss really don't know how to react.

I've learned that people have questions and a lot of them.

I've learned that people deal with loss in different ways.

I've learned so, so much that I just wasn't aware of before all of this happened and I'm wondering why I wasn't aware of it. I am a woman; I am a compassionate, nurturing woman yet prior to my own loss, I really was clueless as to what it was like to endure a pregnancy loss or how to respond to someone who suffered a loss. And I think that sucks!

I just want to do something more with this blog than throw a big pity party for myself… after all, I know I’m not alone in this but I didn’t always believe that.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Check out the poll, please

I have a poll over there to the right of this post. I want sincere opinions on the matter. My husband has hinted now for several weeks that I should go see our old therapist. Yeah, we've seen a therapist in the past - pre-marriage. And he wants me to go talk to her again. But he says I know how to 'play' them and asks that if I do go, that I don't 'play' her and tell her what she wants to here.

I know he means well but I just don't see the purpose. I'm all for therapy, don't get me wrong... but I know what my 'problems' are, I know where they stem from, I know what I need to do to feel better. I get all that. And while talking to someone usually does help, I just don't see the purpose in spending the money when I can just come here and blog about it.

But who knows.

So what do you think?

Please voice your opinion in the poll. I won't know who you are so don't worry about hurting my feelings.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

About yesterday

Yesterday was a rough day for me. I kind of figured it would be a little rough at times, but it just sucks nonetheless. It was my great-niece's 2nd birthday, and my niece (mom of great-niece) and her mom and step-dad threw a big party for the little Princess Rugrat. :)

At first, I was just really enjoying seeing my little Great-niece and marveling over how much she has learned and how much she absorbs throughout the day. She's an angel, that one, and my niece has no clue how lucky she is.

I remember when my niece was her daughter's age and she was nothing like her in that this little girl is such an incredibly well behaved child. She says Thank You without being coached, she does what is asked of her without throwing a tantrum, and she's just a joy to be around. Not that my niece wasn't a joy to be around... she just wasn't as well-behaved as this one.

I found myself getting a bit choked up at times when I watched her be 2, but the hard part came with the questions/comments: It's your turn now... When are you two having one?... Did you hear that (my SIL) is pregnant?

I realized I spent a lot of time yesterday avoiding eye contact with both the adults and the children. How sad is that?!? I couldn't look into the eyes of the kids because they seriously would melt my heart. I would instantly ache inside and my eyes would instantly well up... so I just wouldn't look into their eyes... the eyes of the most pure innocence there is. And I found I couldn't look into the eyes of the adults because they would start talking about their kids, about being parents, or asking questions about when we would have children.


And now as I type this I realize that aside from my niece's one girlfriend who is 19, my husband and I were the ONLY adults at the party that didn't have children.

Granted that's not a reason to have children - to fit in, but my god is it hard to be submerged in a party atmosphere where you - someone who wants to be a Mom more than anything - are the only non-mother in the room.


I can hear the Charlie Brown (Wah, wah wah wah, wah wah, wah Wah!) comments now: It'll happen... You'll be the best mom and it'll be worth the wait... Your time is coming, you'll see... Don't worry so much... You were already pregnant once so you know you'll get pregnant again.

I get it, I do. And I believe it will happen, too. It's just so fucking hard sometimes.

I got stuck sitting next to one of my aunts yesterday and she not only asked when we would be having kids, but proceeded to tell me that it would happen when I least expected it and that she wasn't even trying to have kids and she had two of them and that her daughter-in-law just suffered another miscarriage and as it turns out she had a natural miscarriage and then two weeks later had to have her other fallopian tube removed because lo and behold she was actually pregnant with twins but they didn't know (!!) and they luckily have two of her eggs frozen from when they first tried IVF and thank god they at least have their one-year old Addi in the meantime. Yes, I believe she told me all of that in one breath.

And while I simply cannot imagine what my cousin in law is going through with her surgeries and whatnot, they are at least blessed with one child already.

I don't have any children.

I am not a mom.

I am not going to be a mom anytime soon.

It's something I have to realize every fucking day of my life. And it's something I have to somehow live with and accept because who knows what tomorrow may bring? So while it may seem like I'm unable to move on, there's a reason for that: I'm still not a parent.

I tried talking to my husband again regarding all of this and regarding when we might look into other options. Personally, I don't really want to look into IVF; I'd rather just looking into adoption. But he refuses to talk to me about it. He shuts down. He tells me that it hasn't been that long and asks why we can't keep trying the old fashioned way. And I tell him that that is fine, that I want to keep trying but that I just want to know of a time when we can start looking into other options... Like we go one more year and if no pregnancy by November 09, we look into IVF or adoption.

And he won't respond.

I finally had to tell him last night that while he's turning 33, I'm 36 already and while that's only 3.5 years difference between us, it's a huge difference when it comes to parenting, in my opinion. If I was 33, I would probably say let's keep trying until 35. But I have NO DESIRE to keep trying until I'm 38! I do NOT want to be giving birth at 40. Why can't he respect that?!?!

And, more importantly, why can't he at least give me SOMETHING? At least tell me if you would want to look into IVF, Adoption, or Nothing. Give me something to look forward to because this taking things day by day is fucking killing me!


Yeah, yesterday wasn't the best day for me, but I've certainly had worse. I just have to remember that I am blessed in so many other ways because I truly truly am. Life really is pretty damn good most days.

Friday, November 14, 2008

Better in Time

My last post was about Leona Lewis's first big hit, Bleeding Love which reminds me of my pregnancy loss and how I instantly well up and cry like a bitch whenever I hear it. This post is also about Leona Lewis, but it's about her second big hit, Better in Time. Another song, oddly enough, that reminds me of my loss - but in a better way, if that's possible.

You can view the video for the song here:

And here are the actual lyrics:


It's been the longest winter without you
I didn't know where to turn to
See somehow I can't forget you
After all that we've been through

Going coming thought I heard a knock
Who's there no one
Thinking that I deserve it
Now I realize that I really didn't know
If you didn't notice you meant everything
Quickly I'm learning to love again
All I know is I'm gon' be ok

Thought I couldn't live without you
It's gonna hurt when it heals too
It'll all get better in time
Even though I really love you
I'm gonna smile cause I deserve to
It'll all get better in time

I couldn't turn on the TV
Without something there to remind me
Was it all that easy
To just put aside your feelings

If I'm dreaming don't wanna laugh
Hurt my feelings but that's the past
I believe it
And I know that time will heal it
If you didn't notice boy you meant everything
Quickly I'm learning to love again
All I know is I'm gon' be ok

Thought I couldn't live without you
It's gonna hurt when it heals too
It'll all get better in time
Even though I really love you
I'm gonna smile cause I deserve to
It'll all get better in time

Since there's no more you and me
It's time I let you go
So I can be free
And live my life how it should be
No matter how hard it is I'll be fine without you
Yes I will

[Chorus: x2]
Thought I couldn't live without you
It's gonna hurt when it heals too
It'll all get better in time
Even though I really love you
I'm gonna smile cause I deserve to
It'll all get better in time

Once again it's pretty pointless to bold the parts that hit home the most as the entire song does... And now "I'm gonna (do my best to) smile cuase I deserve to."

Bleeding Love

Leona Lewis's Bleeding Love was very popular around the time I became pregnant...and since I knew of my pregnancy for only 4 weeks, the song was still quite popular after the D and C. Therefore, I heard the song a lot during my pregnancy and after the surgery and since it's a song about heartbreak and loss of a relationship, I connected with the song and every time I heard it, I cried and cried and cried. It didn't matter where I was - in the car, at home, at work. Four months later, it still makes me cry because it brings me back to those days in late July, early August 2008.

You can view the video here:

And here are the lyrics:

Closed off from love
I didn't need the pain
Once or twice was enough
And it was all in vain
Time starts to pass
Before you know it you're frozen


But something happened
For the very first time with you
My heart melted into the ground
Found something true
And everyone's looking 'round
Thinking I'm going crazy

But I don't care what they say
I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open

Oooh, oooh...

Trying hard not to hear
But they talk so loud
Their piercing sounds fill my ears
Try to fill me with doubt
Yet I know that their goal
Is to keep me from falling

Hey, yeah!

But nothing's greater
Than the rush that comes with your embrace
And in this world of loneliness
I see your face
Yet everyone around me
Thinks that I'm going crazy
Maybe, maybe

But I don't care what they say
I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing

You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open

And it's draining all of me
Oh they find it hard to believe
I'll be wearing these scars
For everyone to see

I don't care what they say
I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the pain
That I keep all closed in
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open and I
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love

Christ. I tried bolding what hit home to me and I guess I might as well have bolded the whole damn thing...

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Not giving up!

S and I were just discussing the bullshit that seems to have invaded our lives in regards to people getting pregnant and popping out babies left and right.

"Are you telling me you've given up?" S asked.

"About having a child?" I asked in return. "About becoming a mom?"

"Yes, it sounds like you've just given up."

"No, I haven't given up," I spat. "I will never give up to becoming a mom!"

And I won't. Ever.

It's just very frustrating some times... but I know I will make a wonderful mom and I know a child will be blessed to have us both as parents. And it's that knowledge that leads me to believe that I WILL become a mom.

It's just taking longer - much longer - than anticipated. I mean, hell, most people who think about having kids think about being done with having kids by my age. And here we are just starting out. It just sucks sometimes, that's all... but I won't ever give up on it.

What a week!

This first week of November has been quite an eventful one to say the least. It started out tremendously well with the new President-elect being named Barack Obama. I can't ever remember a time in my 36 years when I've felt so proud to be an American. And while I know that I'm not alone in that matter, the voices of those that feel very differently, sadly enough, have been quite loud, too... including some in my own family (specifically my SIL, married to my own brother).

But I have confidence that Obama will prove all the naysayers wrong and really make this country shine again... and I cannot wait! And I'm so immensely proud to have been a part of it all.

That's the good stuff from the week. And it really is so incredibly good, thankfully.

But then things took a turn for the worse... personally speaking, and all I can say is that it's a damn good thing I've been in a much better place regarding my loss three months ago or I would've had a bigger meltdown today than I did.

It started with an email I got on election day Tuesday from my grandmother's cousin's daughter in Europe. She's a couple years younger than me, been married for several years, has two young boys. She told me she was pregnant again, this time with a girl, due in March (when I was due). She seems happy so I'm happy, but seeing March as the due date was very unexpected and it stung a little.

I couldn't respond to the email right away but did the next day, which was the same day one of my friends' baby shower invites came in... my friend whose husband never wanted to have children. Sigh.

Then on Friday I learned that my old boss's 21 year old daughter was expecting a baby. In March. Double Sigh. (Friday was an even worse day because it marked the three year anniversary of the day my nephew - brother's son whom he has no contact with - moved out of my brother's house and in with his mother, ultimately starting the demise of his young life, and, coincidentally enough, November 7th marked the three year anniversary of the day my dear Grandfather passed away. It's a day I will never forget no matter how much I wish I could.)

But the kicker to the whole week was the news I learned last night. Apparently my racist SIL, married to my brother who hasn't had contact with his one and only biological child in well over a year, is pregnant.

I cried after I found out. The tears flew out of my eyes for several minutes, while the ugly thoughts ran through my head and seeped into my heart: I don't understand why I'm not a mom yet. Am I not meant to be a mom? Was I put here just to be an aunt?

Believe me when I say these are thoughts that have invaded my mind during more occasions than just last night and this morning, but last night and this morning, the thoughts consumed me again.

It hurts so much to know that there are people - every single day - giving birth to children they or their partners never wanted. It hurts me so much to know that my SIL and brother are expecting another child, when the two she has have no contact with their different dads and the one he has he has no contact with.

Why do these people get to have children? Why do these people get to be called Mom and Dad? And why don't I get to have a child? Why don't I get to be called Mom?

I finally told S what's been going on. He listened and tried to rationalize it all, which I appreciated and needed. And he made me realize that it really is probably a good thing I lost the baby at the end of July - specifically because of how sick I was in October with the ear infection and shingles in my mouth. He did his best to make me believe again that things really do happen for a reason.

And I just really, REALLY have to believe in that - that there's a reason everything has happened the way it has and, more importantly, that I will get to be a Mom when the time is perfect.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Ghost Whisperer, Loss, Empathy

I was watching Ghost Whisperer Friday night. It was a new one. The main character, Melinda (Jennifer Love Hewitt) is trying to get pregnant ... in addition to her ghostly duties, of course. The show is making it seem as if she and her husband have been TTC for a good five months or so and the episode before Friday's left the viewer wondering if the tired, dizzy, and nauseous Melinda was indeed knocked up.

Friday's episode opened with her in a doctor's office gown sitting on a doctor's table with her husband dressed in his paramedic's uniform standing behind her. The doctor comes in and tells her that she is not pregnant and she and her husband Jim agree. "We figured that out after the 10 negative pregnancy tests," Melinda whimpers.

She tries not to get too emotional, Jim tries to comfort his wife.

The doctor tells them that they should worry less because they indeed were pregnant, but it didn't stick, and that he was going to run some tests and they would figure out what happened and what they can do in the future to assure she gets pregnant and stays pregnant.

I wasn't happy with this because why would she get 10 negative HPT's? Wouldn't her beta's or whatnot have registered on the HPT's even if she had recently m/c'd too? And wow, her doctor rocks to be running tests and shit with her first and only m/c, after only trying for five months to get pregnant. All while people like me - in the real world - have to endure two or more m/c's before a doctor will look further into things. But it's a television show and at least they're trying to approach the subject.

The remainder of the show carried on, with a few moments throughout where Melinda was touched by the love two mother's were showing. Then the closing of the show: Melinda comes home and tearfully tells Jim that she saw these mother's love their child so incredibly much even though they knew that the child they were loving and raising wasn't biologically theirs. She then asks Jim if he would consider Adoption should they not be able to conceive and he says that he of course would consider it but that he ran into the doctor. And poof, the doctor prescribed some hormone drug that Melinda will take and will allow the baby to stick next time. They smile and tears are in their eyes and they hug and the show ends.

Because it's as simple as that. Ack!

I was happy to see a show touch on this subject. It's nice to see some reality out there. But hot damn, it sucks they have to make it seem like you just take a pill and everything is going to be OK.

Sure I'm a little sensitive about it all but with as common as miscarriages are these days, it would be nice if more women who endure them were able to believe and realize that they aren't some sort of freak show or something. And it might help with others who've never dealt with miscarriage or a loss to be more empathetic towards those of us who've gone through it. Because if there's one thing I've learned the past three months regarding pregnancy loss vs. people who haven't experienced it is that telling someone you are sorry and saying that you feel for them is not the same as being empathetic; saying it out loud doesn't matter when every other thing you do implies that saying it once is enough for someone who's had a loss to move on.

I can understand that some people who haven't endured a loss (at any stage) might view an early loss as something that isn't as ... painful (or whatever)... than that of an actual baby loss. I can understand that. I mean I certainly cannot - for one minute - completely fathom what it's like to give birth to a child, to be able to hold a child, look at him, touch him... and then lose him. I cannot fathom. I cannot pretend to fathom. And my heart aches just thinking about it; however, that doesn't mean that those of us who've suffered a loss at a much earlier stage don't endure pain, too.

And that's what I think some people think about... I think they think that since the baby wasn't fully formed and/or born, it must be easier for us to heal.

Well, it's not.

We all deal with pain and loss differently. I think most of us as human beings can appreciate that.

I don't know what my point is exactly. :(

I guess in my disappointment with some people who I'm extremely close with and who knew of my loss, I was hoping for a little more empathy than one, "I'm so sorry." Yeah, I'm sure you were sorry but just because you never mention it again doesn't mean I'm suddenly OK with everything. How hard is it - despite what's going on in your own life - to ask every so often how someone is when you know they've gone through something rough?

I know it's not a comfortable subject. I get that you don't want someone to hurt even more by bringing something up that was painful. But you don't have to. You don't have to even mention the loss; I promise! Just simply send an email asking how the person is doing, asking what they've been up to. And don't make it about you. Just one email, one phone call a week or a month - and make it about them. That's empathy... showing someone else that you care about them, that you're there to listen to them, that you want to help ease some pain without making it about you.

And that can really impact someones life.


Please note that I'm not trying to be passive aggressive with this post. I'm in a much better place these days regarding my loss, regarding moving my life forward. I think it's because of this that I'm able to write more freely and openly regarding what it was like to endure a miscarriage - and go through it basically alone. I've always been a very private person, always lacking trust in others. So it's not uncommon for me to keep all of this to myself, to work through all of this on my own. That's a part of who I am and I do not blame any one person for this fact about myself. I do not ask for help, I try to do it on my own.

That said, I realize this post may reflect that not one person was there for me the past three months... and that is the farthest thing from the truth. While there were a couple key people in my life that have never really mentioned the loss since they found out, for the most part, everyone else who knew tried to reach out to me on more than one occasion. And it's because of those people that I was able to learn that it may be about time that I let some of my guard down... that it's OK to show some vulnerability at times.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

I hate being neglectful

...and I'm noticing I've been neglectful not only here, but with people in my life, too.

I realize that I have a tendency to write more when I'm down - or really up. When I'm somewhere in the middle, I usually don't write so much... I guess cuz I think there's nothing much to say, or because I'm OK with the thoughts swimming in my head.

I don't know, really. It is what it is.

And aside from the lack of blogging, I've come to realize that I've been neglectful to some friends and family. I don't like this, but I think I know why I've been this way recently and I'm hoping that I can accept the reasons or at least move on from them.

The past three months (exactly) have been very trying for me. I've learned a lot - about myself and about others... more so than I thought was possible to learn in such a short time. I've learned who my real friends are. I've learned who is strong in my life and who is weak. I'm not faulting anyone, I'm just saying my eyes have been opened. And it's with this opening that I've become a little more guarded with some, while opening up even more to others.

I've learned that it's OK to be vulnerable and, more importantly, it's OK that others know your vulnerability... that's what allows others to shine in your life or, sadly, disappear. At least that's what happened with me.

It's a lot to process, really. And while I've accepted a lot of this and learned from it, I'm not exactly sure how I'm supposed to proceed from here. Do I tell some who have greatly disappointed me, that they disappointed me? What if they are going through some trying times of their own? Is it right of me to add even more onto that? I don't think so. I understand where they're at, I just really am disappointed at how they chose to deal with things. It's very sad to me. But if I've learned one thing in my life over the past 10 years or so, it's that I cannot control any one's behaviors, actions, reactions, etc but my own. And I have to remind myself of this every single day - sometimes several times a day.

That being said, while I've learned a lot about people the past three months, I'm choosing to accept it as a learning experience of my own and move on. I vow to not let those lessons interfere with my love for these people and I will continue to show them that I am here and I care about what happens to them. We are all just human after all. I just am not sure how much of myself I may give to them anymore.

So maybe I'm not moving on? Ah, life. :)


In other news, I'm pretty sure I got my period. I've been cramping on and off all week and today, it's pretty much been an all day thing... and then there's the brown stringy discharge I had earlier. It's not a full on waterfall of blood, but I'm sure by this time tomorrow it will be.

And I'm OK with this! Woot, woot! This is the first time in three months that I haven't had a complete breakdown as a result of that bloody whore, Flo. This excites me so, so much.

I really feel like the ugliness is finally leaving me. It was so fucking heavy, too that I can't even begin to describe how relieved I am that it's gone.

I feel like me again. And gosh darnit, I like me. :)

Monday, October 27, 2008


So yesterday S and I were both on our computers (yes, we each have our own. What can I say? S is a computer guy so there's no way he's gonna share his computer with me) at home in the "office" (the second bedroom)... I was playing some clicky game and he was doing his thing when all of a sudden he said, "I was thinking I like the name Alexander and there's none in my family."

S's parents both are one of 11 children and I believe all of their siblings have at least one child so there's a LOT of people in his family.

"What do you think of the name?" he asks after a second.

"Actually," I said, "Oma's father's name was Alexander and David[one of my nephews]'s middle name is Alexander."

"So then your grandmother will be happy if we name our child Alexander... and if it's a girl, she could be Alexandra."

"But can we call him Alex or Zander or something?" I asked.

"We can call him whatever sticks," he replied...This coming from the man that said he hates when people name their child one name, just to call it by a nickname version of it.

"Well I hate Lexi," I said.

It was a funny, albeit a little odd conversation, actually. Mainly because it was completely out of the blue.

And when I asked him what possessed him to talk of the name at that moment he said, "Well, of all the times we've discussed names, I never really told you that I really liked the name Alexander and I just wanted to see if you liked it."

I love that man. He makes me smile so much.

And this is what our child would look like... according to

Heh. :)

Thursday, October 23, 2008

We're ready again

The past two weeks has been good for me in regards to the whole baby thing. I was so sick that I was unable to be on the computer much which kept me away from a lot of the baby stuff out there. And there's a LOT of it out there.

I feel real good about stuff. I'm back to liking who I am. I'm back to liking to hear about baby stuff. And that makes me feel fantastic. Jealousy is SO ugly after all.

Last night I was in bed watching some tv and S came into the room. "Tierre sent pictures of the baby!"

I jumped out of bed and followed him to the computer where he showed me pictures of baby Micah laying on his mommy's chest and belly while she smiled at the camera. Baby Micah's tiny mouth was ajar while his eyes were closed tightly. He looked like an angel, a gift from above.

S and I sat there and looked at the two pictures for about 30 seconds, both of us with huge smiles on our faces. I studied S for a moment and felt such warmth. He's going to make a good Daddy some day and I can see he's wanting it more and more with each passing day.

Our time is coming soon... and I can't wait.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

I'm alive!

Wow has it been a crazy week and a half. Last Sunday, Oct 12, S and I were playing Bingo with my mom for her birthday. I felt off the whole day - like I was stoned (actually I had experienced the stoned feeling in waves that whole week). I tried enjoying the feeling but I couldn't because it was very odd, and a couple times I got queasy too. While I experienced something similar when I got pregnant, I knew that this was different.

I didn't go to work on Monday the 13th to try to sleep it off. Tuesday my left jaw and below it were all swollen and tender. I went to work, but went to the doctor, too. Turns out I had an ear infection and very swollen glands.

Tuesday was also my dad's 75th birthday and I couldn't cancel dinner out with him. I couldn't because it was HIS day. So I went and froze to death and had a miserable time, but smiled all the way through dinner. I won't have my dad with me forever, after all.

I got home Tuesday night and collapsed into the bed. Wednesday I woke and went through chills and sweats, chills and sweats. I didn't have an appetite but kept as much water down as I could.

Thursday was very much the same as Wednesday only I couldn't talk. I had some sores in my mouth that were big and very painful. I couldn't eat ANYTHING other than liquids - and even that was extremely painful.

Friday, S stayed home and drove me to the doctor. I had SHINGLES. IN MY MOUTH! Even the doctor seemed a bit disturbed by this. I guess we all carry the virus in us but it usually doesn't come out unless there's some harsh trauma or something. And I guess my earache and swollen glands brought out the shingles.

Oh god! I couldn't brush my teeth or anything. I was so weak from not eating. All I could do was lay in the bed.

Saturday I did leave the house to go see JERSEY BOYS. It was my dad's gift and there was no way I could not go... and I'm so glad I went. Yes I was pretty miserable but my dad had a blast - and that meant everything to me. As soon as we dropped off my dad, we came home and I went to bed.

Sunday I was in bed all day watching Lifetime Movies.

Monday/yesterday I had a doctor's appointment and was so tired from the visit that I came home and went to bed. (I lost 10 pounds though!)

I'm feeling better as far as the earache and swollen glands are concerned (my glands were so swollen last week that I had to put a heating pad on them!), but the shingles are still there. :( The sores have subsided a great deal thanks to Valtrex, the blue pill for Herpes, but it's still very difficult to eat anything and it still hurts a great deal if anything touches the sores.

But I'm getting there and I expect by Friday, I'll be enjoying some big old cheeseburger and boy can I not wait!

Honestly I have no clue how this would've all worked had I still been pregnant. I'd be four months along... I'm not sure I would've been able to take the Valtrex and the antibiotic that I'm on! Scary thoughts, to be honest. Or what if we already had a child? I could barely gather the strength to go the the bathroom let alone take care of another little person! Cannot imagine.

I also couldn't imagine surviving the week without S. That man is my rock. And I cannot wait to finally put my mouth all over him again.

Friday, October 10, 2008

"That One" is THE ONE!

Thursday, October 9, 2008

The Focus Post

I like when I'm not PMSing.
I like when I'm not bleeding.
I feel so much more in control and so much less angry and... pathetic.
It's nice.

One of S's close friends is a new daddy of a little boy: Micah Caden. I love the name Micah. A lot. I went out yesterday and got a couple little things for Micah so that S can give it to his friend when he sees him next. I'd like to see Micah for myself, but it's probably best I don't just yet. Honestly, I think I'd totally cry if I had the chance to hold a newborn. In fact, thinking of holding him was the only time I got a little teary this time... but I don't think it was due to jealousy or anger; it was a good teary. I think.

Like I said, I like when I'm not PMSing or when I'm not bleeding. I like who I am during these few weeks a month.

I also feel more ... hopeful ... during these days. Like I can see myself getting k/u soon and having a healthy pregnancy and healthy baby.

I need to focus on these feelings when I am PMSing or bleeding; therefore, this will become the Focus Post and hopefully next time - if there is a next time - I get all down and plain ugly, I can come back here and realize that it's just the hormones talking and that I really am not an ugly, selfish, jealous, pathetic person.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

About sex

We've been together for 8.5 years.
We're in our 30s.
We only have sex once, maybe twice a month.
I used to be bothered by that because I really, really enjoy sex.
Since the D and C, however, I've noticed that I don't care for sex the way I used to.
It doesn't bother me that we don't have sex too often.
And when we do have sex, I do not enjoy it. I can't seem to orgasm anymore.
I'm not sure if it's in my head or if it's because of the surgery.
I haven't revealed this to my husband because I don't want him to think I don't like sex with him anymore.
I hope I start liking it again soon.

Monday, October 6, 2008

How I've been feeling about other people's baby news lately

;) ;D :P

Totally losing it - my mind, that is.

I might have to tell one of my oldest friends that I miscarried.


See this friend I talk of... we go way back. She befriended me in 8th grade in 1986. "B" was the only one to become my friend that year (it was a new school for me as my mother shockingly moved me yet again). She would call me her best friend after a couple months, but I never trusted anyone enough to call them my best friend. Pathetic, yes but I digress.

We remained close friends for almost 20 years - even through all of my moves and new schools. Then about 6 years ago, we lost touch. Just like that. Poof, no more contact. I tried emailing and calling a couple times but after absolutely no acknowledgement, I moved on.

Last year I found her sister on Myspace and through her, B and I eventually reconnected and I soon learned that she was moving to Europe with her boyfriend and shortly after she moved, I learned that she actually was married to her boyfriend. About a month after the move, we started emailing more regularily and a couple months after that, I learned that B was having a baby - due this October.

The news shocked me a little... not just because of my need to become a Mom, but more so than that, it was the story behind her pregnancy that shocked me the most: her husband never wanted to have children but wasn't always careful so oops she became pregnant.

She said some other things that really stung - basically making it seem like having babies and/or getting married is all a competition. For some, yes, that may be the case, but please do not lump me into that sum of ignorant people.

I moved on - as I often have done in the past.

B had her baby girl several weeks ago. They're both healthy and doing well. B and her husband and the baby will be moving back next month. And while a part of me is happy because we'll be able to spend time together in person again, a part of me is dreading this... especially after her latest comment of "You need to have a baby so we can have play dates."

Um... yeah.

On top of all that, one of our mutual friends, who was originally B's friend, is 12 weeks pregnant. So I can just imagine getting together with them - one with child and one with an out of womb baby, and me.

Sounds fun and delightful for a SANE person but as I discussed in my last post, I think I'm going insane or am already there.


I don't know what my fucking point with all this is really.

Saturday, October 4, 2008


I was laying in bed earlier thinking how I was going to come in here and post about how crazy and different my mind works during different times of the month... how if I'm bleeding or about to bleed, I'm very emotional and a bit irrational and how when I'm just done bleeding I'm pretty fucking happy and content.

But instead of coming in here and writing that, I checked my email and found one sitting there from a friend of a friend whom I haven't heard from since I got my BFP. I didn't tell her I got my BFP so I didn't ever have to tell her about the D and C. So she didn't know anything... but her email to me told me something: she's pregnant. 12 weeks today.

And the news of her pregnancy and her exhaustion and her nausea stung me.

Goddamnit why can't I just be happy for people?!?!

And then instead of coming here and posting, I go to a message board I frequent and see a pic of a newborn baby that one of the girls just had and all these wonderful posts to her about being a mom and .... once again .... I just lost it and instead of out and out crying like the little whiny bitch that I am these days, I finally came here to write.

But then my husband heard me typing away and asked if there was something I wanted to talk about and I said NO. Because I really don't. I HATE feeling like this. I HATE feeling ... jealousy or whatever the fuck it is because someone else is having a good pregnancy or because someone else just became a mom.

Instead of taking believing me when I said NO, he came in here and saw that I was crying and hugged me and wouldn't let go. So I let it alllllllllll out to him. His shoulder caught all my tears and snot as I just let it all out. Every bit of it. And I cried and cried while he just continued to hug me.

I feel a little better now.

But is this what it's going to be like until I become a mom? Because if it is, I think I might totally lose my fucking mind first.

Thursday, October 2, 2008


So ever since the fucking D and C, my periods have come from nowhere (PMS symptoms of sore boobs and cramping have disappeared) and have been heavier, longer, and more painful than ever before.

WTF is that all about?

Not only can I not tell when I'm getting it these days, but when I do get it, it's practically debilitating. Today is day four of heavy bleeding, horrible cramping, and painful backaches.

This fucking sucks. Not only did I lose a pregnancy, but now I have to have worse periods than ever before. Uh huh, makes perfect sense to me.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Hot damn

I feel so much better after getting all that out of me...

or maybe the drugs are wearing off a bit.


I should not be feeling like this.

I should not be feeling like this. I should not be feeling like this. I should not be feeling like this!

I just found out that someone I know is in labor. She’s having a baby. She’s having her and her husband’s baby. She’s becoming a mom. And while I’m truly happy and excited for her, I’m also crying. Literally crying! And they are not tears of joy or excitement.

I’m so ugly right now.

I have horrific cramps, I feel like I’m going to bleed everywhere, I feel like I’m going to vomit, and I’m in tears because someone else is becoming a mom.

I’m so ugly!

I took some more pain killers when I found out. Pain killers left over from the D and C.

I was trying not to take the pain killers because I really don’t want to get addicted… but then I found out someone else was becoming a mom so I took them.

Piss poor reason, really.

They didn’t make me feel better. In fact, I think I feel more depressed than ever.

I hate feeling like this… and I don’t know what ‘this’ is per say. Is it jealousy, anger, sadness? All of it? None of it?

I keep thinking about my age, too and that doesn’t help matters. I’m closer to 40 than I am to 30. I don’t want to be an old mom. My dad is 75 and it hasn’t been easy dealing with him and he was 39 when I was born. I don’t want to be a burden to my child in 30 years. Motherfucker this wasn’t supposed to go down like this. None of it was supposed to happen this way.

My whole fucking life hasn’t gone the way it was supposed to.

I love my life, don’t get me wrong. I love life, period. But I’m just so incredibly motherfucking tired of watching things happen for others that should be happening to me. I deserve the things I want. I paid my dues.

When is it my turn?

I’m so fucking ugly right now and I fucking hate it.

I need to get a grip. I need to get over the fact that I’m not a mom yet and just BELIEVE that I will become one soon. I really need to believe again. I need to let go of the negativity and focus on the positivity:

  • I’m alive.
  • I’m relatively healthy.
  • I have a wonderful husband who loves me so, so much.
  • It’s a beautiful time of year.
  • I’m an aunt to some amazing kids, most of whom are functioning grown adults.
  • I’m a great aunt to a beautiful almost 2-year-old angel.
  • I have a job.
  • I have a roof over my head and a working car.
  • I have food on the table.
  • I have lots of love inside to give.
  • I love myself.
  • I like myself.
  • Life is so good. It’s so, so good.
  • And I know my time to be a mom will come. It will. It must. I have to believe. I have to.

(I just wish I wasn’t so ugly right now)

Monday, September 29, 2008

Are you kidding me?

I just went to the bathroom and what is on the tissue after I wipe? Blood. WTF? No, really: What. the. fuck?!?!?

It's only been 24 days since the last time that bitch came to town and I'm getting it again? Can't I have 4 more days of no tampons and cramps?!? Where's the warning? Where's the unbearable sore boobs and cramps that make me keel over for a week or two? Where's the extreme irritability?

Do I have to start fucking temping again to know when this bitch will show up?!


Why am I blogging about this? Why, after well over 20 years of menstruating every single motherfucking month, am I complaining this month?

Because for the second month in a row, AF has caught me completely off guard. And even though I really thought I tried not getting my hopes up to *not* getting AF and having to POAS and getting a BFP, apparently my hopes were up high again because ONCE AGAIN this little bitch cried like the little bitch that she is. Who the fuck CRIES when they get their period?!

God, I'm so sick of this. I'm so, so sick of this.

I'm sick of the tears, the heartache, the emptiness, the pity parties. I'm sick of feeling like this! And just when I think I'm taking one step forward, I end up taking two steps back and it's infuriating!

Saturday, September 27, 2008

My dad's 75th birthday

I've been feeling these shooting-like pains in my boobs for several days now. Maybe even a week or so. It's the same type of pains that I got before my BFP in early July. I've been trying not to get my hopes up too high, but I did tell S last night about them after he tried playing Squishy Ball with my boobs. He said that maybe we got it this time and things are working again in there.


I've also been feeling really ... odd lately. Like dizzy. And that, too, happened last time. But I've been feeling this... odd ... feeling for about a month so I think it has nothing to do with possibly being pregnant, but rather with stress and my blood pressure.

Oh and the fact that I can't stop eating like a 5 year old.


In other news, I was planning to send my dad to Texas for his birthday. He'll be 75 in two and a half weeks or so. It's a big deal in my opinion; a big birthday. I wanted to do something special for him, something that could compete with his 65th and 70th birthday when we threw him surprise parties.

He won't be getting a surprise party this year, though. I refuse to be the family fucking coordinator that I've been in years past. Instead I'll worry about me and my gift to him and let the other narcissistic fuckers in the family deal with their own gifts... if they even remember it's his 75th.

Yeah so the plan was to send him to Texas because it's warm down there, which is good for his arthritis, and because my brother/his son is down there. So I coordinate the dates with my brother and we're all set to go but I didn't book the flight because of Ike. Even when I learned Ike didn't damage their home or property, I still didn't book the flight.

I must've known my dear brother would flake on me.

He emails me yesterday telling me that when Dad is down there, he (brother) can't take any time off of work because it's a new job and that I might want to look into renting him a small car so he won't be stuck inside the whole time. Um... fantastic. Cuz I can afford $350 for air plus a rental. Thanks for taking care of *something* asshat. I emailed him back and told him that I hadn't booked the flight yet and maybe I would wait until the winter holidays to send him. Brother emails back saying that that would probably be best because he and his little family are "FLAT" broke. Poor fucking baby. Maybe if your wife got off her ass and, I don't know, found a job, you wouldn't be so broke! Grrrr.

So I was pretty steamed because, like always, it boiled down to money - or lack of - with my brother, but he had to go about it in a completely assinine way. Fucker. Loser. Bastard.

I stewed for awhile yesterday over this because, like I said earlier, I really wanted to make my dad's 75th birthday special.

When I got home from work, it dawned on me that the thing he really wants is to spend time with people. He wants that all the time because he lives alone. But he's also *quite* cantankerous these days and frankly, I can't stand to be around him half the time because of it. Sad, I know - especially because I really do love and adore my father.

Anyway, I thought What the hell can we do to spend time with him, but make it something he'll really remember, something that will really stick out for him when he thinks of this 75th birthday?

I hopped online and surfed the net a bit before it hit me: JERSEY BOYS!

My dad loves old school music. Hell, he loves *anything* old school these days! So why not take him to dinner and then to go see Jersey Boys?!?

I look to see when they're in the area and lo and behold, there's a show on his actual birthday. But it's a 7:30 show, which means both S and I would have to ensure that we be able to pick up my dad by 6 to ensure we find parking, etc. Plus it's a 2 1/2 hour show and that's pretty late for a school night.

So S and I decided that we'll take the old man out for dinner to Red Lobster (because he's been talking about going for awhile now) on his actual birthday, Oct 14th and give him his ticket to the show for that weekend, and then we'll all go see a matinee of Jersey Boys that Saturday. So he'll end up seeing us twice in one week.

So $280 (fuck me, right?) later, I'm finally set with - what I hope to be - a great 75th birthday gift to my old man.

I wanted to add the whole, Are you ready to be another grandfather to the mix, but sadly, that won't be happening for his 75th birthday. I just pray it happens in his lifetime.

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