Posts Tagged 'loss'

Woah where the fuck have I been?

Wow. It’s been almost 2 years. A lot can happen in 2 years. Lives can change, people can grow, horrible tragedies can happen….

…yeah some of that happened but let’s not get crazy here. It’s really not all that exciting. In fact it’s kinda downright boring.

So last I posted I was moving to Seattle. Yay for me! Holy crap that was a long time ago. Sorry I just can’t get over that. Yeah I moved to Seattle for 10 months and decided that I would be insane to continue living there. Depressed infertile divorcing people should not move to Seattle. There should be a law about it. The sky is a unique shade of grey. Let’s just leave it at that because there is good and bad up there but overall I had a hard time. (And to be fair to the lovely residents of Seattle, I wasn’t in my right mind. Don’t hate me for hating Seattle during a crisis ok? I was getting a divorce after years of infertility. Remember? Yeah.)

Fuck I dont know where to begin here. Nothing is the same. Literally nothing. Will bullets help? Yeah let’s try that:

– moved to seattle
– started hanging out with old grunge rock stars
– hated seattle
– got a call/job offer to move back to Cali
– moved back to Cali and started over
– bought a house for me and the kids (Sandy and Monster)
– stayed in touch with Mark and had INSANE-reality-tv-show-style-drama-that-didn’t-really-effect-me-personally-but-woah-was-fucking-crazy-because-his-life-has-fallen-completely-apart
– got fired from new job (oh there will be a post about this…)
– started working for baby company. Ironic? Umm yes

-lost 57 pounds
– Sandy died
– world ended

…so we caught up now? Yeah I think we may have glossed over a few things but perhaps this list can serve as gigantic chapters haha.

One thing I’d like to point out to the world that really I should keep to myself is that I have been single this entire time. Yup. I’m lame. Total loser right over here. I might regret this post in the morning LOL.

So for now I guess all I can say is that I’m back. Not sure this blog makes sense for my life anymore, but maybe feedback? No. I’m not trying to have a baby anymore. For now. Or ever? God I dont know.

Anyway…I am considering reinventing the babybound blog. It’s not the same and I am certainly many phases backwards from said original goal, but could this be a playground for ridiculous banter about my completely ironic job choice? Maybe? Or maybe you can all laugh at my absolutely ridiculous life of singleton after infertility. That works for me. Thoughts?

Advertisements

How to make a baby

I recently saw an article about a site that will pay you to write a “how to” on just about anything. Anything?  Really?!?  Here goes!

Good morning class. Today’s lesson will begin on page 127 of your baby makin manuals where we get into the more detailed steps of life creation. We are going to skip the first 3 chapters that talk about sex, condoms, drunkin one-night-stands and “happy mistakes”. This class has no need for such behavior. In fact, its frowned upon to even engage in any of it if you’d like to change diapers any time in the near future.

Alright let’s get started. Getting pregnant is easy if you follow these 8 simple steps:

Give up sex: Sex is going to slow everything down and should be limited to never. You’re going to want your husband to store up butt loads of the good stuff and get a little “frustrated” shall we say. Besides, everyone knows that sex doesn’t make a baby anyway so its simply a waste of time.

Invite in a third party: I know what you’re thinkin, your mother told you that babies come from a “big hug between a man and a woman that love each other very much” and never once mentioned an audience!! Well. Your mom was wrong. If you really want to make a baby, you’re going to need to invite several other participants into your bedroom. In fact, it will just be easier to take this whole process on the road and out of the bedroom. You’ll need at least 2 doctors, 3 nurses, an anastesiologist, 2 pharmacists, 1 random therapist, and a surgical staff. If you are feeling like an exobisionist, add in an acupuncturist. It’s not necissary to feed them although it certainly couldn’t hurt.

Spend all of your money: Baby makin isn’t for the timid my friends. If you want to get to the good stuff, you’re going to have to make some serious sacrifices. All these new bff’s that you’re going to be hangin out with every other day for the next 45 to 65 days are gonna want to get paid and unfortunately, they went to really expensive schools and drive really expensive cars to their really expensive houses. If you want to keep up with them, you’re going to have to keep them happy in their lifestyle. Even at the expense of your own.

Invest in drug paraphernalia: Its true! While sex only takes a man and a woman – naked, Baby making requires drugs. And lots of them. This is the one time in your life where using needles and pills is going to be considered responsible. As long as you don’t get them from the alley behind Safeway. No need my little learning machines. Your new entourague will hand them out like candy. But I guess on the off chance you run out, those back alley needles are the same. O! And those alleys are a great place shoot up in a pinch. You know, like on the way to a dinner or a movie where you can’t do it. Don’t dismiss all those lovely spots that your fellow drug addicts have already scoped out. There’s a reason they work.

Take a vacation from your social life: Everyone could use a little break from their friends right? No? O well you’re going to have to just accept it. Baby creation has rules. Rules like no drinking, timed drugs, no sex and no sushi nights out with the girls. Plus, your new entourage is extremely needy. They want to hang out with you ALL the time. And they wont take no for an answer so sorry folks, your friends are just gonna have to be cool with it.

Go crazy: See, here’s where its going to be just fine to vaca from your pals for a bit. All those awesome drugs and doc visits may cause you to get a little loopy. Otherwise known as, get crazy as a fucking loon. You’re going to be as unpredictable as the weather and even your pets will fear you. But stick with it kids, because its this insanity that preheats the baby oven so that your entourage can put one in there to bake for the next 9 months. We all know how important preheating is right?

Spend some time in a hospital: When that preheat timer goes off, its time for the party! Doc baby maker might want to have this party in a hospital, in his office or in an outpatient facility. Don’t worry. He’ll send out invitations so you wont be left out. In fact, you’re going to be the guest of honor. But here’s the cool part, the dad? Well he wont be there at all. See…I told you your mom was wrong. Have you heard me mention a hug even once in this lesson? He will probably be at work or golfing or something. Hopefully he’ll be there to pick you up at the end of the party though. You will be in no shape to drive after this one. Think of this party like a rave. Its gonna go on for a couple of days and at the end, a baby will be cookin. See? That was easy right?

Rinse and repeat: How many men did you go through before you found the perfect Dad for your baby? Lots right? Well your baby oven may have to go on a few auditions before it gets the role. You may have to repeat this whole process a few times. Don’t worry, your new entourage would love to stick around for as long as you can afford them need them. When money becomes an issue, they’ll totally offer up all kinds of payment plans, loans, and medical studies to help you out. They are there for you. Going into insurmountable debt doesn’t matter to them. They want you to have a baby too!! Try again and again. It will work eventually.

And there you have it! A quick and easy process right? It may not be as fun as that mythical condom breaking, but the end result is just as awesome.

I’m grumpy can anyone tell?

Hey guys.  World out there.  People I don’t know.  What’s up?

So ya know Mother’s day is comin up.  Yeah.  I know right?  How the heck did another whole year go by and not a single attempt to be a mom was accomplished?  Jesus.  Its so nice of us to have little reminders to help keep us well aware of our failures.

Mother’s day is a tough one for me this year.  Last year I wasn’t speaking to my family so I was able to just brush on by it like it didn’t even happen.  It was still a bit of a sting, but I got over it pretty quickly.  But this year?  Well this year my family wants to get together and have a big ole Mother’s day brunch.  And by brunch, I mean crapfest 09′ complete with all the Mom’s getting spacial treatment and all the non-Mom’s (me) doing all the work.  Its really just an excuse to point out that I am broken.  “Hey let’s call attention to the infertile and make her our slave!”  Fucking great.

Its not that I don’t think Mother’s deserve a special day or that my Mom shouldn’t get to have a lovely day where her daughters show her appreciation.  I absolutely do.  Its just that it doesn’t feel like that to me when I am asked to “host” the brunch, cook the brunch, clean up before an after the brunch, take the picture of all the Mom’s – because well I’m the only one that can’t be in the picture so I might as well take it, make sure all the Mom’s are happy, buy gifts and cards, and spoil the shit out of a bunch of woman who seem to have no regards for my feelings.  I fucking hate Mother’s Day this year.

They know now.  They know about my baby killing abilities.  They know I’m not just some hardened bitch who hates children.  Why continue to punish me as if I am?  I mean it was one thing when they didn’t know.  It sucked, but I couldn’t blame them.  But they do know now.    And to top it off, I have my fucktard of a husband and my dying Grandpa (who is still alive btw) to help enhance the crapness.

It would be nice if I could get just a little recognition for the insane level of effort I have put into being a Mom.  WAY more than any of them I might add.  I’ve spent as much as they did to raise me to adulthood before even having a child to impart all my wisdom on.  This is the time when a good husband would go buy me a special gift from Sandy and Monster.  Just to help me stay in perspective and make the day a little less full of shitness.  But that wont happen.  Which will just make me even more annoyed.  Which will just make me question why I’m even trying to work things out with him.  Which will just make me question everything in my life.  And well?  There’s pretty much nothing good that can come from that.

Taking a separation

Bullets are all I can handle right now:

  • Mark left me.
  • Came home, packed bags, and left.
  • I found out tonight that Mark has been out of recovery for months.  (he’s been in AA treatment for 3 years)
  • Mark has been lying to everyone.  Telling me one thing, and everyone else something completely different.
  • There’s a lot of crap that I didn’t know.  Crap that is bad.
  • He’s gone.  He’s not coming back.
  • I am suppose to call an attorney in the morning.  I have to be logical??
  • Marriage:  Failed

Sorry Emma, my timing of my intellectual advice is obviously off.  Don’t listen to me.  I suck at it.

Back me up here Muppets…its not just me right?

I recently got a comment that I absolutely must to respond to.  Not because it was bad.  Quite the opposite.  The commenter needs support, advice and to know that miscarriage isn’t like high school.  There aren’t a whole lot of mean girls behind her talkin trash and calling her fat.  While I’m kinda like the last person anyone should ever really listen to – which oddly seems to be exactly how everyone else feels as well – I’m going to dole out my best reply:

Dearest Emma,

Wow.  You have just gone through something gut wrenching.  It sucks ass.  The pain that you have experienced with years and years of trying to do something that so many people can do accidentally is only trumped by the pain of actually accomplishing it for a brief moment and failing to see it through.  I know.  I’m sorry.  While I know you have most likely been given all kinds of words of wisdom and advice about how you should feel, and how it will get better, and you’re not alone, and puppies and kittens and bla bla bla, I don’t really feel this is what you were asking me for.  Am I right?  We all know that nonsense and frankly, hearing it when we’re just a few weeks out from the death of our babies, we’d rather snap your head off your neck and pee in it just to get you to shut the fuck up.

When I lost Ashley, I was angry.  Nobody could make me not angry. All I wanted to do was hate everybody and make everybody around me go away.  This (kind of) included Mark.  While I didn’t blame him for our loss, I didn’t feel like he was doing a very good job of fixing it.  And after all, as my night in shining armor, damn it he should have fixed it.  It absolutely put a strain on our marriage and our communication went sour.

Part of me felt that I never ever ever wanted to intentionally put myself through that kind of pain again and didn’t think I’d ever see a future with a baby in it.  And yet, part of me was anxious to start the next cycle so that we could get this whole baby doin thing over with.  I only shared the former with Mark, but secretly wanted him to jump in and be Mr. Optimist pushing me to get right back on that horse.  He wasn’t.  We took a break.

It wasn’t long at all before I really really wanted to get started again and didn’t really see why we were waiting.  Seemed retarded actually.  And since Mark was going on his marry way waiting for me to say I was ready, I grew resentful of him.  Which, in turn, was retarded.

I’m not at all sure why, but for some reason I felt weird telling Mark I wanted to try again.  Like I was scared to even mention it.  I didn’t want him to be mad at me, not be ready and reject me, or judge me. (All while also resenting him for not figuring it out because…well frankly I’m complicated)  I kept it to myself for a long time.  I hinted, but would never flat out say:  WTF are we waiting for?

Here’s what I’ve since realized:

While you went through it together,

You: carried dead bodies inside yours.

He: watched his wife crumble in pain he never thought he’d witness and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Its tragic for both of you.  You will never be able to understand each other.  The healing of each of these experiences isn’t going to be the same or happen at exactly the same time.  He doesn’t understand you and also doesn’t want to hurt you.  He basically doesn’t know what to do.  It takes time to get back to normal.  To not want to kill everyone.  To have optimism again and see that the world has an excellent plan for you.  While you are still physically healing, you’re mentally healing too.  And so is your husband.  Its ok.  And when you’re ready.  Tell him.

Why couldn’t I tell Mark I was ready?  Because I wasn’t (even though I totally thought I was).  But with time, I did tell him.  We started communicating again.  It didn’t seem weird to discuss an actual future with kids and spaghetti-o’s and everything.

I’m so sorry that you have to join our club.  Just reading your comment took me right back to where I was a few weeks after my MC.  I think (you know, from my awesome therapy couch here in virtual therapist land where I totally know everything about you and have every right to tell you what to you) you two just might not really be ready to talk about it.  Its ok.  You will be.

Now I’m just really hoping your not getting ready to pee in my head…cause I kinda need it.  Well.  I like to think I do…

Moving on.

Where the hell have I been you ask?  Well?  I guess I don’t really have a good answer for that at all.  I’ve been here.  Last week would have been Ashley’s 2nd birthday.  That kinda took up my thoughts for a lot of the week, but I was trying really hard not to get all obsessed with it.  I know some might say I have a right to, but I just don’t want to.  You can’t move on if you’re stuck in the past and I want to have a good life AD.

That wasn’t meant to piss anyone off.  Some people definitely feel differently and that’s ok with me.  I just have a very hard time dwelling forever.  I do dwell for sure, but do I want to be celebrating Ashley’s 30th birthday all sad and wishing she was here?  No I don’t.  I hope that at that point I will be celebrating an alive birthday with an alive child/adult.  One who has filled my life with a ridiculous amount of joy and pain – teenagers – and made me feel full.  I want nothing more than to look forward to that rather than dwell on what is not.

That doesn’t mean I am not sad or don’t feel robbed.  Of course I do.  And I miss her.  And I wish I met her.  And I want to have that 2 year old little girl here right now.  But I think that part of healing is moving on.  And I’d like to think that is what I am doing. Right or wrong, this is my plan.

So that was my week last week.  While I was thinking quite a bit about my baby, I also got to think about the baby shower that was planned for Thursday at work.  Awesome right?  Well lucky lucky me, it got moved to tomorrow.  And as my luck is clearly overflowing these days, the pregnant mom to be actually went into labor today and the shower is canceled altogether.  I completely dodged that bullet!!

I should probably run out and buy some lottery tickets and have sex with my husband like normal people in hopes of making a life…

Game over

I’m completely defeated at this point.  It went from fucking horrible to angels in the sky laughing their asses off at me while I cry and making bets on how long it will be before I snap/give up.  My money is on 12:30.

I guess I should explain.  Originally we were told that one of Mark’s recent medications was the cause of his sterility.  That we needed to consult with his doctor to hopefully put him on something else immediately.  That hopefully this would help to reverse things and in 3-4 months, we could test again and go from there.  Still horrible fucking news because as I sit here in the middle of crazyland, the last thing I wanted to hear was that there were even more things stacked against me.  And being put on hold when I finally got the courage to get back in the race is nothing short of devastating.

O no folks.  That totally wasn’t the end of it.  That is only the beginning.  Pull up a seat.

Turns out, Mark wasn’t on nearly a high enough dosage to cause any sort of problems.  That this new found spermless adventure that we’re on could be caused by something much greater.  Permanent.  What was once an issue that could be solely attributed to yours truly may have just grown up into a big girl version of craptastic fuckedness.

I can’t do this.  I can’t.  Years of pain and suffering only to be knocked out in the 800th round.  Then kicked.  Then stabbed repeatedly.  Then peed on by clowns.  While everyone laughs.  And people mock.  I can’t do it.  I give up.

I wish I could say something funny right now.  That’s kinda my thing.  But I can’t.  I’m not in that place.  I’m barely here.  My life basically flashing before my eyes.  Pathetically unable to function without tears.  Unable to get past this.  In the cave.


I'm just a girl with a husband, a dog, a cat, and a bum uterus. Add to Technorati Favorites

These seem to be pretty popular

Archives