Posts Tagged 'sadness'



Divine Intervention

The ball is rolling.  Realtor has been contacted.  Attorney is being consulted this afternoon.  Wheels are in motion.  I want to get this over with as quickly as possible and with as few scars as possible.  Mark made his bed and I am not at all satisfied with his bed making abilities so therefore I need to find someone who does hospital corners (ok no I don’t.  I hate hospital corners but you get the idea).

In an effort not to give Mark any form of documentation that could bite me in the butt, I’m not going to discuss it here.  This blog has always been about me, for me, and to help me.  I’ll definitely have stuff to say, but dragging Mark through the dirt here while we’re in legal negotiations kinda seems like a bad idea.

As fucking horrible as all of this is, I do to see that this has the makings of a divine intervention.  Of course I’m still a baby killer and will continue to have issues with fertility moving forward, but there seems to be a very clear reason why Mark and I were unable to have a baby.  Can you imagine if we did have children right now?  I feel very lucky to have someone out there lookin out for me and taking care that I don’t do something I’ll regret forever.  Albeit I certainly haven’t been happy about it most of the time…

So this is it.  No more BabyBound.  At least not for now.  I hope that I can someday find a man that will love me the way I deserve to be loved.  And I will devote myself to that man as much as I did Mark.

What do you guys think?  Should I change my blog name?  New topic of convo?

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RIP

At 9:30 tonight my grandfather passed away.  He was not alone.  My Mom was with him and he died peacfully.

I will miss you always, Grandpa.  You are the funny in my bones.  I love you forever.

-Katrinka

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.

An absolutely perfect goodbye.

I spent the entire weekend with my Grandpa.  I talked with him, rubbed his feet (his feet!!), trimmed his eyebrows, brushed gook off his face, fixed his hair, made him comfortable and most most importantly, I made him laugh.

On Saturday I was there with my mom.  We were the only ones there with him.  My Grandpa is in really good spirits and is still surprisingly alert.  Even though he can’t talk, his face speaks volumes.  He seems to be rather silly actually.  (I get my sense of humor solely from my Grandpa.  Nobody else gets us).  I noticed that his feet and legs were exceptionally dry.  This wasn’t going to work for me so I found some Cherry Blossom hand lotion in my mom’s purse and gave him a foot and leg massage.  He loved it of course – I mean who wouldn’t right? Then I simply had to point out that he now smelled like a girl and he could not stop himself from laughing.  See?  He gets me.

At one point I asked my mom if I could speak to him for a few minutes alone.  She knew why (so did he).  I got really close to his face and started to tell him how much I love him and that he means the world to me.  I will never forget him and will make sure that my children know all about my amazing Grandpa.  Then I said I had a secret that I wanted to make sure he knew.  Something Mark and I have been planning for 4 years.  A baby.  His eyes lit up and his face got excited.  I told him that he couldn’t tell anyone because it was a secret and he smiled and gave me a look that said “well ok, I’ll try, but you know…I can’t make any promises”.  Then we laughed together.

On Sunday the whole family was there.  It was a really crowded room so I was so happy that I took the opportunity to say goodbye on Saturday.  Helps to be good at planning and of course we all know….well, I’m awesome at that.

I tried to talk to him as much as possible and hold his hand.  In his bed he has a teddy bear that I gave him years ago, Willy. It means the world to him (I’ll tell that story later).  In the afternoon in a break in conversation, he grabbed my hand, pulled me down and pointed to my face.  Then pointed to Willy (the bear) and stuck his hand on my chest.  Willy goes to me.  I gave him a huge kiss and said “I’ll take good care of him.”

As we were getting ready to leave, I knew this was it for me.  By the time I see him again he will be in a coma at the very least.  Most likely he will have already passed away.  It got kinda hard to say that last goodbye, and I couldn’t say “I’ll see you later”, but I put both hands on his face, looked him in the eyes, touched nose to nose and said “I love you Grandpa”.  He shook his head yes and I left.

I cannot think of a better way to let someone go.  I really can’t.  It almost seems like a story you read in a book.  Not real.  I have absolutely no regrets and will always know that my Grandpa knew I loved him to the very end.  My very last memories of him will be of him laughing and being a goofy smart ass like his first Granddaughter, Katrinka (That’s me guys.  It was his nickname for me.).

I feel like such a lucky person.  Seriously, how many of you out there still have all 4 grandparents at 34?  And who else gets to do what I just did?  I mean I know I’m the queen of planning, but even I was taken back at my powers here.  I feel like I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

Someone go get me a lotto ticket, a scale and a pregnancy test…

…in other news:

So I realize that I sound like an emo teenager lately but I assure you, I haven’t started overdoing the black mascara and adding safty pins to my clothes.  Its simply not a good look for me and frankly I’m way too blond and preppy to pull it off.  While I am sad as hell and cry a lot, I’m not suicidal.  I mean please, that just sounds messy and if I’m dead who will clean it up?  I can’t live out eternity knowing I left a mess.

I’d love to be able to write a whole post right now about puppies and kittens and rainbows, but I can’t.   If happy is what you’re looking for, I suggest you just skip this one.

Remember back a million years ago in March when my Grandfather had a stroke?  Yeah I know, I totally stopped talkin about that didn’t I?  Well just to catch you up, he’s been in ICU, regular room, ICU, rehab facility, 2nd rehab facility, and now hospice has stepped in.  He isn’t getting better and has no chance of recovering from this.  While he’s still alive, he’s not living any sort of quality of life.  He can’t talk, walk, sit up, breath on his own, or eat.  Its been 2 months of pretty horrible living in my opinion.

It was decided yesterday that we will be removing his feeding tube today.  Which in case anyone is anorexic and doesn’t realize, means he will die.  He is going to be kept very comfortable and will not suffer at all, but I’m afraid its over for my Grandpa.  We don’t know exactly what will happen or how long, but its soon.  Like, within the week.

This is going to be the first death in my immediate family ever.  All of my Grandparents are still alive.  That has been something that I have felt very honored to have.  I’m pretty close with all 4 of them and always have been.  Even when I wasn’t speaking to my parents, I still made sure to regularly see my Grandparents.  While I absolutely know that this is the right thing to do and that my Grandpa lead a very good life and would want it this way, its hard.  I’m really sad.  I’m going to spend this weekend with him and talk to him as much as I can.  This will be the last time I see him alive.

This is not me.

I’m sad.  I’m alone.  I’m not happy with this situation.  Nothing I have done has worked out the way I thought it would/wanted it to. My friends don’t like me anymore.  My family stopped calling to check on me.  My dog took up peeing on the rug.  I am so down I can’t even move forward.  Or backwards.

I think I’ve hit some sort of bottom?

Its gonna be the party of the century

Everyone inside my computer has really worked their booty’s off to lift me up.  And well?  You did.  I am so grateful for all the interesting perspectives and I really do like hearing any point of view here – even if it isn’t the same as mine.  Despite what Mr. Boy has to say, I’m not always right and the more point of views I can hear, the better I can be about forming my own opinion.  (Its called research, fucker.  People that do it, have stronger opinions that aren’t based on spontaneous bursts of emotion.  You should try it sometime.)

Today I am at a bit of a low.  This whole situation seems pointless to me.  I’m spinning my wheels trying to get Mark to actually take some responsibility and show me that he actually cares enough to want to make up for what he’s done.  He’d rather just blame me so that we can be on an even playing field here, but I am never going to see it that way.  I need to see him change.  I need the grovelling.

No matter how mean he thinks I am, or how horrible my personality is, at the end of the day,  he married me for a reason. I never left him.  I never abandon him.  I was always here through all of his setbacks, illnesses, problems, etc.  I never ever let that small window of doubt seep in and make him feel alone and scared.   He married me because of my personality, and my loyalty and my strength and he has always been able to count on the fact that I am here.  No matter what.  Sadly, he couldn’t give me the same peace of mind and for that, he should be sorry.

Whether he likes it or not, he is going to have to pay a price for this.  Period.  That price is either going to be to suck it up and grow up, or to lose me, his life, and every bit of respect from everyone around him.  Both choices suck for him, but my choices suck too.  Too bad.  Grow the fuck up.  Lock your pride up in the closet with your stubborn suit and put on that cute vulnerability onsie.  Its literally the ONLY way back from this into my life.  Pride has no seat at this table.

I’m going to completely avoid any contact with him for now.  I need a break from the beating.  I’m obviously completely open to apologies, flowers, groveling, public displays of remorse, 3 carat diamonds, etc. but holding my breath for that might end in a hospital stay and an oxygen mask.  Those things leave really nasty red lines on your face though so I’ll stick with avoidance and plan myself a pity party.


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