"...I was like OH MY GOD THANKSGIVING HATES US but then I realized, nah, this is just life doing what it does best-serving us a giant piece of shithappens pie on gratitudes's birthday."

At last year's end of the year performance, G had a big snot bubble form and just hang out the entire time she was onstage.  It was horrifying.  So needless to say when she caught a cold 3 days before her winter performance, the really big one everyone comes to, I was stressing.  We left our house to attend the performance and drove down our very steep one lane driveway to encounter 3 at&t trucks blocking our way and my anxiety leapt to like an 8.  A five ton boulder just descended on my chest and I couldn't breathe.  I filled my lungs with air and held it, trying to break the crushing sensation and I realized; I no longer feel like this every minute of every day.  I used to.  For a very long time.  Probably around 4.5 years.  That's a really long time to perpetually feel deprived of oxygen.  (G did wonderfully, we sent her onstage with a purse with 8 million tissues and the instructions to use her shirt in an emergency and she didn't have to do either.)  

I'm doing....better, for lack of a better word, this year.  It's weird but having all my christmas shit burn down did help.  The holiday has always felt torched to me I guess.  But then things sneak up on me.  My sister texted me with a pregnancy announcement.  I say, out loud; OH SHIT! with a horrified look on my face.  J says; WHAT?! and I say; M is pregnant! and he looks at me completely and utterly bewildered.  I blink, he blinks, and I realize what I've said.  Oh.  I say.  I mean; yay!  I'll text her congratulations.  I'm totally fucking crazy pants you guys.  Pregnancy is now akin to walking on hot coals and then moving to fucking Alaska for 9 months in my very warped probably I should learn to control my reactions brain.  It's the worst thing someone could do.  Even though it is supposed to be a joyous event.  But.  I can breathe.  2 steps forward one step back?

5 years ago.  I'm overwhelmed with the awfulness of it all.  My life changed forever.  3 days before Christmas.  G had dr appt to get shots so J took her while I was fit in at my dr to 'just check it out' as I'd had some light bleeding.  I heard the news alone, and had to tell J in the waiting room, then we made our way down to the big time ultra sound machine downstairs for confirmation.  I sobbed my way through it, with my husband and 15 month old in the darkened room.  They confirmed the worst and we went home.  I came back the next day, to induce, but it didn't work.  I've always (Inappropriately? "It's like fort knox up in there.") joked my uterus has a harder time letting go than I do.  Stayed overnight, the first night I had ever been away from G, and I'd literally stopped nursing her to sleep 2 weeks before this.  She was having a reaction to the shots, feverish and sick.  I felt so guilty, I needed to get home.  I went in for surgery.  Bled for 5 weeks, started cramping so badly it was only rivaled by actual labor, and then hemorrhaged off and on with a super bad episode happening the last night where I passed the fuck out.  Upon waking up on my bathroom floor at midnightish I decided I should probably go to the ER and woke my husband to take me.  Alarms went off from my low blood pressure and off to surgery I went again, with a blood transfusion to top things off.  

I wrote this on The Facebook, because of course I had announced it.  Despite the fact I had felt trepidatious the entire pregnancy.  

The Christmas re-cap that causes all my facebook friends to run for the Prozac.

January 3, 2011 at 1:19pm

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 Sorry.

This was simultaneously the best and worst Christmas of my life.  The moment we put the Christmas tree up Genevieve ran up to it with a OOOOOOOooooooo!!!! And just stood there.  She did that almost every morning.  I'd find her in front of it through out the day, gazing up at the lights and ornaments, every once in awhile she'd reach out and touch the branch, or stand on her tiptoes to try and get 1 of the ornaments.  She picked out her own ornament for this year, we looked at so many, and she ended up picking out this cheesey white cat with glitter all over it that she kissed repeatedly and said her version of Meow to.  She loved every Christmas card we got, especially the ones with pictures in them.  Her face on Christmas morning when she saw her trike, slide, and all the presents was priceless for real.  I'm so happy I was able to see this holiday through her eyes. 

The week before Christmas, at 15 weeks pregnant I went to a Dr. appt.  There was no heartbeat on the ultra sound.  I had to spend a couple of days in the hospital, where I had our son.  Physically I'm doing just fine, no problems at all.  Mentally, I'm playing the fake it till you make it game.  Genevieve doesn't deserve a crying ass mom, I'm trying to keep the number of people I wig out in front of to a minimum, and I'm doing my best to keep my trip on the crazy train off of facebook. 

Thank you everyone of you for the love and support you've offered, it means so very much to me.

I sound so wow I'm not traveling through the 7 levels of hell right fucking now.  I tried to be honest without making people uncomfortable.  I was devastated.  I cried every time G wasn't actually looking at me.  I got dry patches under my eyes from wiping away tears.  I clung to my husband's arm as we did mundane things, like sitting next to each other watching movies, for fear I would float away on the current of grief and sadness perpetually threatening to overtake me.  He was my physical link to a world I was only partially participating in.  She was the reason I was trying.                       

G saved me.  Through this time.  And the years to follow.  

5 years is a really long time to have all your hopes and dreams dashed.  After we had G, I'd have my mental pictures of our future, homework at the table with snack, baths with me listening to the arguments and splashing while I cook dinner. G, with her sibling.  That is not what the reality is like.  We do homework on the couch, it's just the 2 of us, she showers at night, we are in a drought.  (insert laugh/cry emoji here) I'm sad, over protective, wistful, broken hearted, grieving, uptight.  I feel like with 7 goddamn losses it's hard to mourn each as a separate entity, and they kind of all roll up into a big ball of bullshit the universe handed me that should have been our beautiful son named Oliver Richard.  The ghost of what should have been.  So many times he tried.  He would have been amazing you guys.  The first time I was so ridiculously exhausted I almost had narcolepsy.  He made me so sick, I had to change G's diaper in front of the kitchen sink so that I could stand up and barf when needed.  But I can't tell that story because even though it's pretty funny now, my baby died and that is not a great way to end a conversation.  The second time he wasn't with us for very long, a positive pregnancy test and an excited 2 days before I lost him naturally.  I still held out hope.  The third time was golden.  Oh he was so nice to me. I felt perfectly fine.  No sickness, my ass didn't get super giant, I loooooved feeling his kicks.  J and I would spoon every morning, with his hand on my belly, feeling him move.  I met him that time, held him.  Cried over his perfect toes.  Took pictures, had him cremated.  The next 3 times were like the first, though not nearly as sick, scared, but hopeful until there was no heartbeat, then heartbreak and surgery.  The last time was an accident, I'm not going to lie.  We were preventing and it didn't work. I was so very angry.  The entire pregnancy I was bitter and without hope.  I dreaded the dr appointments, never had a nice thing to say.  When the appt came with no heartbeat I was not surprised in the least and now had my answer to my fate as a parent.  I would be raising only one child, we were done trying.

I feel like life has been on hold for the past 5 years.  Purgatory while we waited for the final results to come in.  Once A happens your family will look like B and you can begin life as The Family You Were Meant To Be.  Instead, it seems, it will just be us three.  

And here I am 5 years later.  I am a completely different human being then I was.  Stronger.  Weaker.  Brokenhearted for life.  Forever missing Someone(s).  Floundering at times in my new normal, doing my best to accept life for what it is, eternally grateful for all I have been blessed with while understanding that I am still allowed to mourn the loss of what I so desperately wished to be.  And now, more often than not, I can breathe.  So that will have to be enough. 

The pictures.

The view from town where ballet class took place.

View from the Y looking towards the junkyard at the same time. 

View towards the junkyard 15 minutes after I left. This is equipment exploding. 

View after our fires were contained as all the mountains burned.

Our view of those mountains now. 

The comparison pictures. 

First night home.

"If I get really frustrated in traffic I have to pull over and whisper the F word into my glove box."

You had to know I was going to write about this...

Wednesday, September 9, 2015, I awoke with a nervous stomach.  Normally on Wednesdays I volunteer in G's classroom, but that day I would be taking a test to see if I qualified to apply for a job as an aide at G's school.  Now, ask me to take any manner of exercise class, from kickboxing, to yoga, to Zumba Gold where I got my ass handed to me by a bunch of 65 year old women, and I'm game.  I will do my best, and have joyous time while at it.  Ask me to do anything that requires my brain?  And I'll probably cry, at least once or three times.  I am very very self conscious about my lack of higher education.  Which does not translate into motivation to remedy that unfortunately because the idea of college sends me for the nearest paper bag for some deep breathing.  I was also concerned about G being upset I wasn't volunteering like normal, she's been having some separation anxieties surfacing, and the timing of it all.  I had until 1:30 to complete the test, which I was like DAMN, this thing starts at 8:30!  There better be some snack breaks or I'll perish!  But this was also the latest I could leave in order to get G and the little boy I've been taking care of from school.  Unfortunately I also needed to get my fingerprints done, so if I took this long I'd have to reschedule that and drive all the way back there a different day.

So, I was stressed.  I drop G off, she does fine.  I get to the test on time, and begin with the math portion.  It was ridiculous.  I guessed a bunch, and memorized my most bewildering problem to ask every person I've met since.  Not one person has had the answer so that was somewhat comforting.  36 is 15% of what number?  I don't even know HOW to figure that out let alone know the answer.  So there's that.  I move on to the english and assisting portions, which I felt much more confident about.  There was at least comprehension I hoped.  The last part was the essay part.  I was also worried about this, my handwriting, which could count against me, is atrocious, and while I enjoy writing, I write like I talk, purposefully.  I want Me to come through.  Me does not necessarily use appropriate grammar or parts of speech however.  Me does not have an opening sentence, supporting sentences and a closing sentence for multiple paragraphs.  Ugh.  I get through it all and try to go back and 'check my answers'.  Realizing shit wasn't going to magically make sense I stand up to turn it in. 

It's 10:30am. That laugh/cry emoji gets used lots in the next 7 days.  I go out and get my fingerprints done, finishing at 11.  Results of 3 parts of the test would be arriving by friday, the essay took longer because it would be corrected by an english professor, not stressful at all.  I had literally cleared my entire day for this.  Realizing I now have time to get to my beloved 12pm workout class I rush home, leaving all my stuff in the car, change and get on my way again.  I make class, eat lunch, pick up G and LB.  It's ballet day so we rush home again and hit the ground running, again leaving all the things in the car, including my workout bag,  which would come in handy once we were Evacuated.  We have 10 minutes for G to use the bathroom, change into ballet stuff, me change into not workout clothes, and gather up all the necessary snacks and fluids for us not to return until after dinner.  We jam out on time, getting to class.  About 3:45 I get a group text from my FiL.  There's a fire on Butte Mountain.  It's smokey and ashy at the house.  UGH!  So lame!!  MiL's asthma has already been acting up!  Such an inconvenience.  I'm in the town that the fire is taking place, I report all is fine here, just a plume of smoke in the direction of home.  

I drop LB off to his mother, we discuss the lameness of a fire in such a drought ridden time.  G and I meet J at his chiropractor, again lamenting with all about the smoke and risks.  We go to dinner the 3 of us.  As we sit down the electricity goes off.  Really? REALLY?!  How much more inconvenienced can we get?!  My friend that lives in town texts me that her electricity went off, I tell her the restaurant's did as well.  J says it the transformers, they are going to need to get the fire under control before they can fix it.  We all shake our heads.  If the town's electricity is out, ours is for sure.  We decide to go home, ask Granny to make G some noodles on her gas range and just figure something out for us.  We drive home.

We arrive to a lot of smoke.  It's gross to breathe.  Granny is in the driveway taking a picture of the smoke plume.  We tell her our noodle plan and she agrees.  2 things then happen at once.  My BiL's friend who's husband is a firefighter texts there is a fire reported .6 miles from our house, and my husband's cousin who is the volunteer fire chief texts Granny with the words; The fire jumped the canyon. 

Our driveway is a big U shape to allow for such a steep elevation change from the highway to our houses.  At the end there is a Y, to the left is BiL's house, at the right is our and my in law's house.  At the bend of the U is the junk yard.  Beyond the junkyard is the canyon.  Our roommate pulls up, concerned.  The 3 of us decide to drive in the truck to the junkyard to see what's up.  We get out and there's a patch of trees blocking our line of sight.  We jump a gate to the neighbor's property to see around them.  I stop at the gate.  I watch the boys. They get around it, they take a picture with their phones.  They turn to me and start running.  

We jump back over the gate, and I say we need our suitcases.  They're stored in a trailer in the junkyard.  J stops to get them and he is TAKING TOO DAMN LONG.  I jump out of the truck and run down the driveway.  At the Y in-between our houses stands my BiL.  He says how bad is it?  I say get your shit, we're leaving.  At that moment the friend who's electricity went out texts me; Is it burning more towards you guys now?  My response is We're leaving can we come there?  To which she responds of course!  Like packing your favorite shit and leaving??? And I answer yes. 

Turns out though I was not packing my favorite shit.  As I ran down the road I'm trying to figure out WHAT THE FUCK I NEED.  And there's nothing.  There's not one damn thing I need more then to get my kid the fuck out of there.  The Compound is very conflicted about our varying reactions.  I shoulda, wish I hadda, why didn't I? Except me.  My job was very clear and I did not falter it's course.  

I run down the driveway toward our house and Granny is outside, I relay my message again, she runs in her house, where G already is and J and the Roommate drive up.  We haul the suitcases upstairs and begin throwing random ass shit in them.  I am livid I can't find G's overnight bag because with her rashy self I can't be using just any soap on her.  I remember she had a sleepover at Granny's the previous weekend and think it might be there.  I haul what I have packed downstairs and throw them into the Yukon.  (Spoiler not anywhere was there pjs because I don't actually wear them at night.  This would work against me later.)  J packs some stuff then goes outside to do manly compound shit.  The roommate is the ONLY ONE for whom the thought occurred to actually call 911.  The last I see of him he's yelling in his phone WE ARE IN IMMINENT DANGER as he hauls the puppy out of the house to his car.

  I go next door and find G holding a flashlight for Granny as she throws shit in a suitcase.  I look down and she's  barefoot.  ARGH.  WHERE ARE YOUR SHOES?!  G blinks at me.  In my suitcase mom.  I'm packed and ready to go.  I'm slow to understand.  I ask about her shower stuff and Granny says; It's all in her suitcases, she packed them already.  I turn around to see her 2 princess suitcases zipped up and ready.  Well shit.  I grab them and throw them in the back of the Yukon.  I go back for Granny's suitcases.  Where the fuck are we going to go?!  Aunt Michelle's is the response.  About 6 miles away.  Ok.  I get G in the Yukon.   Granny comes out, I'm riding with you right?  Yep, get in.  J launches our 2 dogs into the back of the truck.  Shit.  Totes forgot about them.  Granny says oh, I'll drive the truck.  

It is then revealed my husband and FiL will not be joining us in our evacuation.  They will stay home to protect the property. 

I am so. so. angry.  

Fran, J's crazy ass firefighter best friend came TO the fire to get us out.  We're leaving I say!!  Good, go now!! he says.  I argue with J and FiL.  

Mommy!  We need to go!  A worried voice from the back.  This later kills me because when we talk about our reactions she says well, I was kinda a whiney pants.  I hold back my tears.  She had her shit together more than any of the adults, and this is what she thinks.  

The last words I utter to my husband of almost 7 years.  The man I've been with for 9 years.  The father of my children.  Are:  YOU ARE NOT LESS IMPORTANT THEN THESE STUPID HOUSES. YOU'RE BEING FUCKING DUMB.  I peel out. 

 

I meet BiL with his car at the Y.  He's smoking.  Stressed.  They're not fucking coming! I say.  He pales.  I have to go I say, I'll meet you at Michelle's.  I drive down the driveway, there's fire trucks in the junkyard.  I meet another one in the driveway which was stressful as fuck.  I drive through smoke and ash until I get to town, why the FUCK is no one behind me?!!  I pull into Frank's Restaurant that resides where the highways intersect.  It's full of cars parked haphazardly, people are wandering and crying.  I can't have G here, I pull out toward Michelle's. 

I get there and wait at the bottom of the driveway.  G wants to go RIGHT NOW but I really don't want to be the first to arrive.  There's no cell service and I'm slightly convinced all the cell towers are on fire and therefore there will be no communication and that is pretty much THE FUCKING APOCALYPSE RIGHT?!  

I pull up the driveway.  I have cell service.  Michelle comes out.  Eventually BiL and Granny come.  Both beyond heartbroken.  There's no power here, it's smokey.  But it's far enough from the fire for now.  

*sigh*

In the movie of my brain, the houses burn down, because I saw that shit as I was leaving, there's no hope, and then J and FiL join us and we decide what the fuck to do from there.  At about 10:30 I'm lying with G, who did not have dinner for the very first time in her life, who did not have a shower for like the 3rd time in her life, but she sleeps so it's all good, and Aunt Michelle comes in to tell me the houses were saved.  They'd heard from the menfolk.  I am bewildered.  Sincerely.  

So begins a week of becoming nomads.  Perpetually trying to escape the smoke and fire.  Then finally returning to a much changed Compound.  The houses, they were mine, Granny's, BiL's.  Home is where the heart is.  The land?  That is J and FiL's home.  The equipment, the outbuildings, the massive amounts of supplies, those were theirs, and they've lost them.  Insurance doesn't cover anything beyond 250 feet from the house, which all that stuff was of course.  

We should have just let it all burn.  

*shrug*

G's baby stuff that I was terrified I was going to have to deal with is gone now so there's that.  Along with all our holiday decorations, (who are we kidding, we know how I feel about the holidays anyway), and my ballet stuff.  (I was a terrible dancer.)  

We'll figure it out.  

I have a home.  A family.  Electricity and knock on wood, wifi.  Oh!  And  a JOB!!!  I called to inform them my mailbox burned down, could I get the results over the phone?  (I later found out it was still standing, I feel bad for lying.)  And I PASSED!!  I was so surprised she double checked the math part for me, hahaha!!  

I've moved G's bed into our room.  At about night 3 at home with her in our bed I was at new mother crazy status and had to do something.  We have the room, she feels safe enough, and I get to sleep.  Win win for me.  I'm just going to let her go at her own pace.  Things will get back to 'normal' eventually.  I'm hoping.  

"They were sportsing pretty hard out there. They did the thing, and won the points."

I work in a hotel renowned for being haunted.  You can rent ghost hunting kits for your stay.  The maid's closet is at the top of the stairs, with a perfect view of the ac vent.  During the summer guests come up, spot me folding sheets and say in awe; "Do you feel that?!  There's a cold draft as soon as you enter!!"  They are lucky to get an "Mmmhmmm.." from me.

If I want to see ghosts, I do it in my own house.  The baby cardboard books I have kept out for far too long. (The idea was she would be able to practice reading with them.  Then she just skipped right over that need and is reading like nobody's business.) The plastic kitchen G is almost too tall to enjoy.  The gender neutral tricycle 'in case the next one is a boy'.  We cleaned out the downstairs storage room to sheet rock and paint it and I spent the entire time leaking from my eyeballs.  Just rivers flowing down my face.  All of G's baby stuff, conveniently stored in case it is ever needed.  Easy access.  Tears leaked from my eyes the entire time.  And I was caught completely off guard. I wasn't getting rid of this stuff, just moving it from one place to another.  But with that movement came the realization that I will have to go through these things, choose what to keep, what to save, and what to get rid of, because none of it will ever be used again.  

At some point.  I will have to utter the words; No, we have unexplained secondary infertility. in response to the well intentioned question Will you be having more kids?  

G is an only child.  G will always be an only child.  Genetically speaking at least.  My BFF tentatively asks how I am doing with the latest loss and the decision my husband needs to get a vasectomy.  "I still haven't given up hope the universe will make this right somehow."  I haven't, inexplicably.  I wonder how the apology will manifest itself.  Silly self important human.   The universe owes me nothing.  My cup runneth over.  

"Oh man, I was dreaming I had a kangaroo pouch. It was like a purse, I could hide my snacks in it."

*SPOILER ALERT If you haven't seen Return to Zero or don't want to read about it skip this post*

I recorded this movie with the intention of ignoring it until who knows, when I have a rainbow baby or something crazy, but then my cable box was jacking up and the guy is coming tomorrow and will probably change them out and it wasn't showing again so I watched it. 

UGH.  

First.  That is exactly what it feels like.  It feels like Epically Losing Your Shit and The World Ends.  Here's the thing though.  I have only been able to Lose My Shit.  The Epically part has been fairly internal.   I have a kid I have to feed and bathe and love (Poor fucking me right?  Please, she is my reason for living.) and at least attempt to give a 'normal' life.  Also.  I'm kinda in the baby loss business it seems, and I really couldn't Epically Lose My Shit for 3 and a half years.  There's rules.  Like after the first year you have to go to rehab or a mental hospital or something.  Turns out there's not really a time limit on just plain old Losing Your Shit though.  So far I mean.  I haven't been sent away yet.  Also I did not get to flip the fuck out on people.  There was no poorly timed clerk denying me something, there was no religious fanatic telling me it was all god's plan.  I was thinking maybe I'm just super unapproachable/outspoken about my atheism or something?  But I don't know.  I absolutely believe people say shit like that but I have NO CLUE how I would respond.  Back in the trenches and today.  Just wow.  

Second.  My doctor, the poor person who has pretty much had to deliver about 50% of my shitty news, is a 70 year old man.  I wonder what would have been different had he been a fellow BLM my age.  The other 50% was shared between this doctor I've blocked the name of at the 'your shit is fucked' doctor office, PA at my normal office, and the aforementioned doctor's wife who also works my normal office.  Lucky them.  

Third.  I was like blown the fuck away at her doctor being an obstetrician after losing a baby.  But then I realized she had 2 rainbow babies, all was well.  

Fourth.  Holy shit I can't believe she went to a baby shower.  I was like you are crazy biotch.  But then I realized.  My BFF?  I'd figure it out.  I'd be there for hers too.  

Fifth.  Dear Vegas for the entire month of December, wanna hang out?  

The end was kind of anticlimactic for me.  Of course they had their rainbow baby.  The names though, at the end, of all the babies lost.  I wasn't expecting that, and I felt like I had to read each and every one.  They deserved that you know?  But it was just...I don't even have words for that.  

It's interesting how affected I am by this movie.  I've been foggy/weepy all day I'm sure because of it.  Can't wait for the cable guy to show tomorrow and be like "Yeah we're not gonna do anything right now, thanks for the call though." only to have me flip the fuck out over watching the baby loss movie in preparation for his arrival.  Should be fun.  I'm overdue apparently.  

*My quote is from What to Expect When You're Expecting which is actually a super funny ass movie that I watched obsessively during one of my failed pregnancies.  I can't place which one now though.  Awkward.  

Trifecta

The view from my windows; trees, birds, mountains rolling.  It’s hard to see your friends out here.  Luckily, if I look to the left I have my portal to them throughout the world.  

Thank you so so much for all you've done.  

"Of course, it's definitely less weird than eating cheap wine and stale bread and saying you're eating the blood and flesh of a dead, briefly zombie, son of a virgin."

I daydream about finding a job far away for the month of December.  Like maybe in Arizona.  Where it's warm, but I'm not abondoning my family for a beach and an umbrella.  I don't want a vacation.  

In my head I work hard, (doing who knows what) 10 to 12 hours a day.  I get home, (a completely christmas free pristine hotel room, with a bed, tv, a bathroom, nothing fancy) have a sandwich, go work out for 2 hours and come home and drink vodka until I'm unconscious.

My family is more than capable of making sure G had a wonderful holiday without me.  In fact it would be exponentially easier for them if they didn't have to worry about when I'm going to spazz out again due to the decorations being visual intrusions that cause my anxiety to increase, or when I falter when G talks about Santa with wonder in her eyes.   They could do whatever their hearts desire and it would be a glorious thing, you can be sure.  

G would be fine with her dad.  I could skype every night, I'm fully capable of faking enthusiasm for that period of time knowing I can settle back into my Scroogeness with gusto.  I'd send home every cent I made, contributing to the fabulousness G would experience.  

I've always been fairly indifferent about this holiday, even before the losses I could take it or leave it.   But now all I want to do is leave it.  

It would never happen though.  I cried all day when I left G for 4 nights, I can't imagine a month.  Unless someone has the perfect job opening for me.....

Only one more week and I have survived this month.  I can't wait.  

*My quote is from my Pretend Friend during a conversation about taking on some buddhist traditions, but not the leaving food at the alter one.  Food is expensive.  Plus I'd have a hard time throwing away food meant for my alter and it'd rot and we'd get fruit flies pissing off my ancestors.  Or whatever I put in my alter seeing as I'm not sure I have any ancestors that wouldn't already be pissed off for being there in the first place.  It's just best to avoid it altogether.