Are you drinking tonight or am I? (I have very strict rules for designated driver status)
You can, I’m not going to.
Are you sure? It’s your family deal, I don’t mind driving home.
No it’s fine, I don’t drink in front of G.
*jokingly* Oh and I’m such a bad person because I get boozed up in front of my kid?
Hahaha, no, I don’t care what you do, you’re an ass drunk or sober, this is my deal.
Why don’t you want to drink in front of G?
It prevents me from having screwdrivers for breakfast.
*concerned face* If you’re having serious problems we should talk about it.
*brain explodes* This is me preventing serious problems.
Boundaries, I haz them.
So. I survived another due date with no baby to hold. Well actually am surviving, as I’m writing this on Sunday. So I guess it’s still up in the air technically if the survival goal was successful. If I post this we’ll say yes, it was, I lived. And I managed to do it while on my period. I was extremely throat punchy yesterday morning due to circumstances beyond my control, but I moved past it and had a lovely day. Today I’m really sad and eyeballing the chocolate G got for easter. Should I or shouldn’t I?
Now that we’ve moved passed the day I’ve been dreading. Let’s set some goals for this week. Shit I’m going to do because I suppose it’s time to…..begin life again. Keep moving forward. Fuck if I know.
1. Call the specialist’s dr office and ask about autopsy results. I’ve been avoiding this for obvious reasons; it sucks fucking ass. Also, maybe I’ve felt it’s disrespectful. ‘Hi, can you tell about why my last baby died so I can decide without debilitating guilt whether or not we can try to have another baby, even though no matter what you say we’ll probably keep trying because I’m cah-raz-y?’ But it’s time. The guilt, fear, not worthiness, will be there no matter what so I just need to get the damn information and go from there. Am fully expecting to hear they were lost, never to be found again. That’s just how we roll.
2. Call my doctor about my weird periods. Super short, only for a few hours a day, I don’t know what the deal is, but maybe they will have some insights. I fucking hate that office so hardcore. The staff is so nice and respectful but all I want to do is lose my shit the whole time I’m there. I’d absolutely get another doctor just to save myself the PTSD but due to the fact we live in a rural area there aren’t any other girlie part doctors. Funny right? Blah.
3. Call insurance because I got a notice they need G’s social security number. What the hell? Like they haven’t had it for the past 2 ½ years? Way to keep track of stuff.
4. Mail off my bone marrow match kit. Because hells to the yes I’d try to save someone else’s baby. Even if said baby is like 45. Hmmm, and maybe write a post about all my failed attempts to donate bodily fluids. The world just does not seem to want what I have to offer.
5. Finish baby blanket for my very good friend. Who I haven’t even seen once while she was pregnant because due to circumstances beyond my control (depression due to not bringing home live babies, absolutely awful cell phone reception on our mountain, plus we don’t have a land line, and no money for gas to go see people, which I suppose could be within my control if I got a job*laughs hysterically*) I’ve allowed myself to become one of the shittiest friends ever. I don’t talk people, at all. In part because of my Groundhog Day existence; Why am I not pregnant?! Pregnant! EVERYTHING’S FUCKED AGAIN, rinse and repeat. I mean who needs to be stuck in this loop with me? Oh snap, you guys are. I guess that’s optional though. You don’t have to listen to me drone on. You decide when to click and all. Anyway, and in another part….I don’t know what the other part was, I guess that was it. Just another thing I put off until “after”. Perhaps I should figure out when after is. After I’m not depressed, or after I have a baby, or after we decide to stop trying and the world ends I guess. I don’t know.
I think that’s all for my to do list.
When I first started therapy she asked if I was going through the stages of grief, and we stopped on anger. I wish I believed in god so I could have something to be angry at. To blame, to rail against, to beat with my tiny ineffectual fists, and then forgive and feel loved again. I would like to have that, to work through it. But I don’t. But I’m currently angry….at something. The universe? The world? Whatever the fuck is in charge because it sure as hell isn’t me? Because of someone else’s story; people having healthy live babies 10 months apart no less, while doing everything “wrong”, I’m wallowing and bitter. And angrily blaming deities I don’t believe in. Giving them the stink eye and such, flipping off the clouds when G isn’t looking.
All things that happen after this day make me want to barf. My stupid ass birthday is in 10 days. I was supposed to be all exhausted and post partum glowy. Weddings, summer. All these things were supposed to include a newborn from here on out. I hate them all right now, I don’t want to celebrate or acknowledge the fact the world isn’t as sad as I am.
Good thing I don’t drink in front of G.
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Lists are a good way to keep away the crazy. Phone calls like that are so freaking hard to make. I hate that this summer is not what it should be. I'm glad that you're surviving. And I don't think it's selfish or crazy to want to try again. Maybe I'm just saying that because I would want the same thing, but also because the fact that you want to try again means that you're hopeful and sometimes THAT (and not having screwdrivers for breakfast) is the most important thing to hold on to.
ReplyDeleteLife is just shitty sometimes. I'm so sorry that you can not celebrate the way you should be with a new baby in your arms. All of us here has walked that shit road before it's just extra hard for you right now. All we can do sometimes is survive and it can be exhausting. Anger it is a hard place to be, full of bitterness and big middle fingers at everyone around us. We are pissed that people don't show up for us but can't seem to show up for anyone either. It is a selfish place that must be honored. I'm am clicking and reading along with you. Sending love.
ReplyDeleteI love you. That is all.
ReplyDeleteTrying again doesn't mean you're bad people, or crazy. Own it, honor your self, be gentle.
ReplyDeleteOne time, I was crying in front of my zen teacher. Picture some white people in 15th century monastic clothing, and one is crying about his inner city teaching job. I was almost completely hunched over, and he asked me if I could try this crying upright, by sitting up, pressing my head to the sky.
ReplyDeleteTears still streamed, of course, but it felt different. One thing he always asks me to acknowledge is that I'm experiencing suffering (choosing!) when I get what I want and when I don't get what I want.
I see beauty in your life. I know that might not help, but I just want you to know that your struggle is someone's inspiration. It's all we have, each other's inspiration.
I'm going to this http://www.sfzc.org/ggf/display.asp?catid=&pageid=1460 for my lost little brother or sister. Would you like me to go for you, too? I'd be honored.