Wednesday, November 9, 2016

An Open Letter to Donald Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

       I'd like to start off by saying that I really mulled over how to address this letter. I wanted to just call you Donald, because I don't think you deserve the respect of a formal address, but since I was raised to do the right thing regardless of whether or not someone "deserves" it, I chose Mr. I just felt that needed to be said.

       I've watched your disgraceful campaign from afar for quite some time now. I was not able to bring myself to watch more than a few minutes of the circus that was the Presidential debates, so I'll admit that I am not as informed as I could be. However, in full disclosure, I didn't honestly think that we would ever be here. That I would ever live in a world where Donald Trump is our President. So I sat back and waited for the spectacle to be over, preparing for the days of "remember when Donald Trump thought he was going to be President?". Except here we are.

      I woke up this morning to an email from a friend in Canada asking me if this was a joke. Facebook messages from family in other countries offering their spare bedrooms if I needed a place to stay. This is how the world views us right now. That we are a joke. They feel for us, the deep heartache that we feel that you are now our "Leader". The United States of America is now a joke, and we have you to thank for that. Now, before we get into the thick of things, I would like to be clear. I believe this whole entire election was a disgrace. You and Hilary. The two of you sunk to the lowest of levels. Abandoning any form of grace, professionalism, or tact. It was disgusting to watch. I was embarrassed for the both of you, that you will forever have footage of yourself behaving this way. This not how our country should be run. This is not how our elections should be run. There was too much blood shed for our country for this to be what we have become. People gave their lives for this? I bet they are turning over in their graves, wondering what happened to the values and convictions that they stood for. I know you can't understand that, being a white male who grew up with the silver spoon in his mouth, but let me break it down for you.

     I in no way am trying to say that I have experienced the most hardships in the world. I am not a person of color. I don't come from a religion that has been persecuted. I am not a member of the LGBT community (though I support them through and through). But I am a female. Someone whose "people" have faced adversity as well. There was a time when my "job" would have been to stay home, clean the house, and have children. That's all I would have been good for. However, thanks to this amazing country, I grew up to think that I could be anything. In the 4th grade, while all of my classmates predicted jobs of doctors, firefighters, etc. I proudly stood up in front of all of my classmates and their parents and said that I was going to be the first female President of the United States. THAT is what the good people of our country have fought for, the belief that we can do anything. That men, women, and children of all race, sexual orientation, and religion are equal. THAT is why America is great.

       It seems however, that we took a giant step backwards last night by electing you. Someone who talks down to women and demeans them. Who thinks nothing wrong with sexual assault. Who thinks that they have every right to put their hands on whomever they want whenever they want. As a SURVIVOR of sexual assault, I just want to take a minute and say FUCK YOU. Keep your grubby, dirty hands to yourself and be glad that there are even actual people in this world who would actually want you to touch them. Leave the rest of us alone. You are someone who thinks that the answer to our immigration problems is to build a giant wall to keep people out. Did you forget that this fine country was built from immigrants? That you are lucky enough to be where you are today BECAUSE of them? Someone who thinks that women shouldn't have a choice over what happens to their body and should be PUNISHED for certain things? Don't even get me started on your stellar choice for  VP who thinks the answer to our "LGBT problem" is conversion therapy. I'm actually slightly impressed that you two were able to find each other. They say everyone has a soul mate and it looks like you found yours.

       I've spent a lot of time being angry about this. I want to kick and scream. Throw my hands up. Move to another country. Leave this circus behind. But, that's exactly what is wrong with our country right now. Those that CAN do good are frustrated, they feel defeated, they are giving up. They are giving into the media, the hysteria, and I can't do that. I have a son to raise. An example to show. I have an obligation to this country to keep fighting, to stand tall, to raise a MAN that will help make this world a better place. To teach him that while the world is full of hateful people like you, good will always win. The sun will always rise on a new day.

      So here is my plea. You got this far. You made it. You leveraged people's fear and frustration into a Presidential nomination. I just want you to remember that at the end of the day, we aren't a risky business deal that you can walk away from. You can't declare "bankruptcy" on being the President of the United States of America. This is our life. Your words. Your choices. Your example. That is going to be what shapes the next 4 years (and hell probably many more after that depending on how much good or damage you do). These 4 years will be the most formative years of some people's lives. You owe it to the people that elected you (and even more so to those that didn't) to remember that. We understand that you have your ideas about what this country should be, but so do we. It is your obligation to do what is best for us all as a WHOLE and not just to follow your own agenda. It is your JOB to keep us safe, to make decisions for our well-being. You just became the Father of over 300 million people. It is your obligation to do right by us.

     I don't need you to turn the world upside down. I don't need you to reinvent the wheel. I don't need you to try and make history to feed your own ego. I just need you to not fuck this up. Can you do that? Can you put aside your own agenda for 4 years and just think about someone else for a change? You want to make America great again? Unite us, don't divide us. The inner turmoil that we are all facing has caused us to turn against each other. The hate, the animosity, the friendships ruined, the families divided. It's because of you. So fix it. Make us great again. Do what you said you would do. Just remember that if you fail, we fail. We lose. Just think about it.

      I know you'll never see this. And I doubt that anyone will make it his far through it, but I needed to say it, to clear my own head. To purge my soul of the hate and negativity that I'm feeling. The sadness I feel for our country. So I dare you. Prove me wrong. Make me eat my words. I'll gladly put my foot in my mouth. Just please, for the love of all that is good, don't fuck this up. We are counting on you, whether we want to or not.


A woman who has worked far too hard to let someone like you push her backwards.

Tuesday, October 11, 2016


I've been trying to be a little more honest with myself, and others, about how I'm really doing. I'm not really sure who I am trying to fool more, myself or them, but I have long ago figured out that faking "fine" isn't the same thing as BEING fine.

See? Look at that progress. If only all of my old therapists could see me now. They would be so proud.

Alex and I went out to dinner on Saturday just the two of us to celebrate our anniversary (a month late). After a disastrous attempt to try a new restaurant, we went back to an old reliable. We found ourselves chatting about everything and nothing. Eventually the tequila kicked in and I found myself telling Alex that I wasn't doing well.

He said that he'd noticed. That he was doing his best to do what I needed, but he was never sure what that was. That it always seemed wrong. I told him that it wasn't all in his head. That everything he did annoyed me. I was honest and told him that I wasn't entirely sure that there was an actual reason for the anger, that it could very well be that he was just there, but that his mere presence annoyed me most of the time and I couldn't figure it out.

I told him I was doing my best to exist and that most days, that's all I had in me. Wake up, get ready, get the baby ready, feed baby, pack stuff, drop baby off, work, try not to flip out at work, pick up baby, come home, make dinner, feed baby, feed large man, feed dog, put baby to bed, clean up, pack lunches, exist, go to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

That's kind of all I got in me. Everything else is work. Effort. I don't feel like a great Mom. I feel like I'm "phoning" it in a lot. Then I feel like I have to overcompensate. Then I feel even more fake because I'm doing things purely to make myself not feel like a shitty Mom. It's been fun.

I've been hard on Alex. He can't do much right. He's not helpful enough, he's not around me enough, he doesn't want to talk enough, he's in my way, he's talking when I just want to sit quietly. There's literally nothing he can do right.

I told him I would try to take it easy on him, He promised not to do the imaginary things that make me mad.

What a good husband.

Sometimes I think I'm OK. I seem rather rational. Not random outbursts. No excessive drinking. Work is stressful, so I attribute a lot of my moods to that. And while it doesn't help, at all, I know that a lot of what is bothering me isn't work. Or maybe it is. Who knows anymore. But, a large portion of my life is a shit show and I'm just trying to tread water.

But Sunday night things started to take a bit of a turn. I haven't been sleeping well, but that's pretty normal for the amount of stuff that I have in my head. There's a lot going on at work so I feel like I'm always remembering something at a random time and it gets my head spinning. So I've been going to bed later and later. I've been waking up a lot too, which hasn't helped.

But Sunday, I was on the verge of a panic attack. I was sitting on the couch and Alex and John were playing at the end of it. All of a sudden they were too loud. They were too close. They were doing too much. There was too much stuff everywhere. The dog was standing right next to me so I could get off the couch. My sweatshirt felt like it shrunk 2 sizes and I couldn't breathe. I went upstairs, took my sweatshirt off, and took some deep breathes. Thankfully I was able to calm down. It started to rear its ugly head a little while later, but I squashed it and was able to calm down again.

It's been a long time since I've had a panic attack. I'm not sure if I'm had a full blown one since before I met Alex. It's been that long.

But things are just piling up. Saturday I took Felix to get his nails clipped. While I was there they gave me his new medicine, insisted he needed his rabies and heart worm in order to get his nails cuts, and charged me $250 for the whole shebang. The money is rough, but he's my guy so I do it. He has trouble getting in the car and wasn't even remotely interested in trying when we were leaving. Normally when I attempt to pick him up he flips and then tries to get in himself. He has never liked to be picked up. So I called his bluff. But this time he let me pick him up. No fight. Nothing. He's so skinny now. He's finally eating regularly, but he's just so skinny. He's 15, so I'm not naive to what's going on. But it's been a rough year.

When I got home Alex asked how it went, to which I told him what happened with the car. I then added, with a little dramatic flair, "I already lost my Nanny and two babies this year, so why wouldn't I be losing my dog too", burst into tears, picked a fight with him for not sounding sincere enough, and went inside.

So, you see, I'm doing awesome. Really, quite well.

I try to remind myself that the real crazy people probably don't know that they are crazy, so I can't be ALL that bad yet, right?

It's just a lot. I feel like every time I try to get my head above water something else happens. I feel like I've been treading water for almost a year and I'm exhausted. I just want to stop struggling. With work, with money, with my family, my friends, everything. I'm just so tired.

I just wish this year was over with. Start fresh. Start new. Maybe have a year that isn't full of disaster and heartache. I think we are due for that.

I find myself not talking about us having another baby. Like, talking about it out loud will jinx us. We used to talk about what things would be like with two. Or when things were crazy we would say, "are you sure you want another one". But now we don't. And I cringe when people talk or ask about us having another one. We just don't know. I think we are trying to guard ourselves against the worst. Sometimes I feel even sadder about that. That it broke us. We were so optimistic, both times, well... trying to be. It never felt right. But we wished and hoped and prayed.

We just feel broken now.

I'm not sure how to fix it. 

Sunday, October 2, 2016

Here we are Again...

I wasn't really sure if I was going to post about this. Mainly because I'm not sure how I feel about it. There's a part of me that feels stupid. There's a part of me that feels reckless. There's a part of me that feels broken. There's a lot going on in this 'ole brain of mine.

But, I've gone through the story this far, so let's continue shall we...

Last we "chatted" I was coming off a baby shower that was a lot more difficult for me to attend than I anticipated, but through the help of a mimosa and 3 Coors Lights, I made it through.

I was still waiting to get the month over with and kicking myself a little for thinking that everything would happen so quickly and we would all just be moving right along into expecting another baby.

I couldn't get it out of my head that I thought I was pregnant and had convinced myself that I was just another one of those crazy people who had spent so much time wishing and hoping and praying that they had convinced themselves that they were pregnant.

Imagine me, 9 months pregnant, going into labor, only to find out that I had made the entire thing up in my head.

Now, let's stop for a minute here and set some things straight. I don't actually think that anyone is crazy. I think that this process is gut-wrenching and sometimes all you have to hold onto is hope. That you need to let your heart have those few days where you think it's possible because they are way better than the days that you know it isn't.


I bought myself more tests, because the 20,000 that I had already taken (and squinted at, swearing I saw something) weren't good enough. I had taken a couple days off from peeing in a cup and just decided that every few days I would test until it was obvious that I wasn't, just to make my head feel better. (You'll notice that I don't talk about "female" things. Ew. Just read into the references and we'll pretend that I'm not actually talking about this.)

I came home Tuesday afternoon, took a test to ease my mind as I poured myself a large glass of wine. Except, imagine my surprise when I saw two lines. Yeah. Two lines.

I called to Alex and freaked out. I texted Nicole. I texted Kelli. I texted Lindsay. I needed my people. I then stopped texting people, because it had been 12 seconds and it was becoming excessive.

Alex and I told ourselves this would be it. We would be OK. That we were so lucky to get this chance again. That we would bring this baby home.

I called the doctor the next morning and went in immediately for blood work (they promised to keep a close eye on me). I sat nervous all day. I got the blood test results back from Friday, which made my heart race when I got the "result" email, only to find out it wasn't what I was looking for. At least the didn't find anything, so that was good.

I never did get the email, but I finally found the result. My hcg was a 4.

They don't even consider that pregnant.

I called to talk to the doctor, but why would she ever be available? I spoke to the nurse, explained my situation. Neither of us could figure out how I could have a positive home pregnancy test with only a 4, and she told me to come back on Friday. They'd figure this out.

So I sit. I wait.

I take 12,000 more tests. They get lighter. They turn negative.

I was pretty hopeless about it. I got an email from my doctor that my pregnancy test was negative. I explained to her what I talked to the nurses about and what the plan was. Not that I would hear back from her. God forbid she actually calls me and has an actual conversation with me, knowing everything that's been going on. Nope. Please tell me twice in an email that I'm not pregnant.

Friday morning I wake up and decided to take one more test and then head in for blood work. Just to see what's going on. But, I don't need to and my heart sinks.

So, I called out of work and just did my thing. I needed some time.

I'm assuming it was a chemical pregnancy, since it happened so quick. I'm also assuming that this is some sort of sick joke that is being played on us because I can't honestly think that we are here, again, one more later dealing with this bullshit. Because that's what this is. Bullshit.

I'm a little less emotional this time around, but when I am it comes out of nowhere. Just driving. Or sitting on the couch. Or doing something normal. And it hits me.

I feel sick. Or tired. Or weird. And wonder if it's the baby. Then I remind myself that I'm not pregnant. So it's obviously not. Those are usually the times that I get upset. The fact that I have to remind myself that I'm not pregnant. That I'm not 10 weeks along. Or 5 weeks along. That there is no baby growing because I lost both of them.

Those are the parts that get me.

I think I'm definitely switching doctors. The ride out to her has been terrible and I feel like I deserve a little extra TLC right now and she's made me jump through hoops to talk to her and made me feel like shit when I actually do. Not really someone I'm comfortable with anymore. Not really sure what the plan is for that going forward but I have some time.

Alex and I have decided to take some time off from things. I think I need to let my body and my heart heal a little bit. I don't think that I can do this again. Alex is already talking about how this will be our last baby, if we ever get one, and that breaks my heart too. I always saw us with three. I always imagined it being MY choice how many children I had and not out of fear of not being able to have more.

I can't help but feel a little broken. A little deceived by my body. Wondering why it doesn't work right. Wondering why this keeps happening.

Our pregnancy ratio is plummeting quickly. It went from 1 out of 2. To 1 out of 3. And now 1 out of 4. Which, are not very good odds.

I don't really know what happens next. Or where we go from here. Or what any of this means. I just know what it sucks and no one gets it. Or maybe there's just nothing to get. No one can seem to say anything right, but I think that problem lies more with me. It's not OK. I can't relax. I can't hear that we'll have a baby soon. Or this will all be just a bad memory. I don't want to hear any of it. And I don't want to hear that I "shouldn't think like that" when I tell people that I don't know if this means that John is it for us. I can think about this however I want.

I need to protect my head and my heart from all of this. I need to steal myself for the possibility that John may be the only child that we ever have. I need to start to open myself up to that possibility. Because it IS a possibility. And I just can't hold onto rainbows and unicorns. I can't just think that this is just a blip on the radar. This is huge. This is something that defines me. This is a big part of my life and my story. And people thinking that I can just "move on" from it makes me feel like they are diminishing the amount that this affects me.

But like I said. I don't think anything anyone said to me right now would be right. I think it's just one of those things.

So, here we are. Again. Again.

I'm hoping to one day no longer be writing this posts. I'm hoping that some day my life becomes boring again, so the need to write dwindles. Or maybe I start writing about how blessed we are.

But, until then. Here I am. Again. Again. 

Monday, September 26, 2016


While I'd like to say that I'm handling this all pretty well, for the most part, I definitely have my moments.

It doesn't help that work is a complete nightmare right now. Or maybe it does. While it gives me something else to perseverate on, it piles on the stress. So, I guess it's a bit of a double-edged sword.

I had a baby shower to attend this weekend. This is nothing new. My friends are a wildly gestating bunch and a month doesn't go by that I'm not celebrating the arrival of another little cherub. Some of them, recently, have been a bit emotional as I realized that I was ready to add another to our family. But, not emotional in a bad way. Just in a, "I can't wait to do this all over again" kind of way.

I made it through the shopping no problem. John threw an epic tantrum in the store because we wouldn't let him play with a mobile forever and then Grammy was looking at him wrong. So I shipped him out to the car with Grammy to give him all the dirty looks she wanted (I kid, he was obviously just being a nut job) and rushed through buying everything. Between that and not being able to easily find anything on the registry, I was fairly distracted.

I was also convinced that last month was a fluke and we would find ourselves pregnant immediately and this would all be a distant nightmare.

Imagine my surprise when I find myself here, the weekend of the baby shower, coming off a terrible doctor's visit, not pregnant, and now having to spend my day celebrating someone else having a baby.

I'll be honest. I almost didn't go. I didn't know if I had it in me. I just wanted to sit at home and feel sorry for myself.

I tried to remind myself that the girl whose shower I was going to has had her struggles too. She didn't know when/if she would be able to get pregnant due to her health issues and it was a long road to get here. Not that she needed to struggle to deserve happiness, but I know where she has been and I know what it feels like to finally get to your baby shower that you wondered if you would ever have.

So I went.

And it was hard.

I think it surprised me how hard it was. Usually, I can prepare myself. But this kind of came out of nowhere and left me in tears quite a few times before I got there.

Thankfully, once I got there, there was enough to keep me pre-occupied. And there was booze. Booze always helps.

After that though, I was exhausted and unfortunately had to cancel on Family Dinner. I felt bad, but I'm trying to recognize my limits. I just needed to be home. Alex, John, and I had a nice dinner just the three of us, did bath time, and bed time and then Alex and I watched some TV and went to bed early. It was a nice, quiet.

 I needed quiet.


Friday, September 23, 2016


I had my follow-up doctor's appointment today.

I didn't know what to expect. Why would I? Despite my attempts to ask numerous questions, it seems that they are taking a break from making communication a priority.

I arrived late due to a shit storm at work. Although, that's pretty much my all day every day reality currently, so I should probably just say that I was late because of work and leave it at that. So that's how the day started.

There was a "traffic incident" on my route, so my handy-dandy GPS re-routed me. Cool. I got to the appointment and realized that I had time to spare. Except at 10:19 I realized that my appointment was at 10:15. So that was fun too.

Thankfully, the doctor was running late so I didn't feel so bad.

I didn't have to wait in the room long. I tried to drown out the sounds of my work phone going off repeatedly and catch up on my US Weekly. I was trying not to think of why I was there. I was trying not to think of that I had an appointment around this time when I was supposed to be there, obviously for better reasons. I tried not to think of the fact that I should be 9 weeks by now. Feeling like shit. My pants starting not to fit. Obsessing over whether the baby was a boy or a girl. Or how we should redo the room. Or, I don't know, anything other than the fact that I was in the doctor's office because I had a miscarriage. Again.

It worked for a little bit. Until the person in the room next to me go to hear their baby's heartbeat.

God I missed that sound. I would have done anything to be hearing that. Anything.

Not too long after that, the doctor walked in and asked how I was doing. I always find that to be a strange question. Especially when people are asking directly about it. I mean, I don't have anything better to suggest that you say. I just don't know how to answer it.

I told her that I was still waiting for a response on something, to which she blamed the nurses, again. They had a student in the room with us. No one asked me if it was OK. Apparently talking about my multiple miscarriages was a great way to break the ice with a new friend.

She went through the list of things that she was checking, looking for, advised me that I should take a break from trying and I told her I wasn't. I said that everything seemed to be doing what it should and that everything went back to normal. All in all, everything began and was over within a week and a half. My hcg levels were low to begin with and they went right back down to 0. I told her that it was detrimental to my mental and emotional health to wait without a valid medical reason.

I also them reminded her that that was precisely the question that I had asked her about over a month ago that the "nurses never answered".

I didn't really get a great vibe from her today, which is a shame because she has been my doctor for the better part of a decade and I've always really liked her. I felt more like she though that I was this crazy person who was still trying to have a baby despite everything that could still go wrong. Her bedside manner isn't always spot on. Like the time she saw my weight gain when I was pregnant and gasped... and then told me to lay off the carbs.

Replay that.

Saw my weight gain. Pregnant.


Told me to lay off the carbs.



I guess I just thought there might be a little bit more tact in this situation. But, what do I know. I definitely have never been to medical school.

All in all the appointment was pretty disappointing. She did some blood work to see if there's something up with my chromosomes, or my thyroid, or if I have a blood clotting disorder or something. She suggested Alex get tested too, but I'm not even sure where to start with that. She didn't give me any instructions so I don't know if I'm supposed to send the information to her or not. She also told me that those are the three things that she starts to test for, but she doesn't really to expect to find anything.

So it is what it is.

I am where I was yesterday, except that I got to spend my morning unable to avoid what I spend most of my time attempting to avoid. Healthily of course.

I just want to know when we get our baby.

If we get our baby.

I just want our baby. 

Monday, September 12, 2016

Keep on Keepin' On...

Alex started his new job last week. That was probably the quickest week ever. It was so nice to have him home. Of course, now we will get him home more anyway.

In a way it was almost nice to get back into a routine. I feel like we were stuck too much in this whole, free, do whatever we want mentality. It was nice to be able to grieve and process without the added stress of a lot of things, but at some point it is time to get back to reality.

John and I managed to get out the door without the first morning. In fact, I was at work earlier than I had been in awhile. The rest of the days weren't so great. It will be hard to get used to this new routine, Alex has done drop-off since I went back to work when John was 8 weeks old. But, we managed, although Little Man was looking for Daddy and wanting to tell him all about the big trucks we saw. Thankfully, he stopped crying during drop-off awhile ago, so it was a lot easier for my Mama heart. He LOVES his new classroom something fierce so that helps a lot. We were a little worried about him moving up to the next classroom, since he loves this one so much, but it turns out that his Toddler teacher that he was obsessed with just moved up to the next classroom so he will have her again. That makes me feel a lot better.

Things have been going alright. I mean, as well as to be expected. Well... I did just find out that the FOUR times that I had to do blood work were charged at a whopping $50 a pop, so that's fun. (And Alex wonders why we are switching to his health insurance...) I understand that insurance is a business and that there's no emotion involved, but there's just something about getting a bill for $200 and not having a baby to show for it. Kind of a kick in the face. But, whatever. It wasn't nearly has devastating as the bill for the hospital visit for the first time. See? Better!

I'm trying really hard to let myself feel without drowning. It's quite the slippery slope. I've been throwing myself into projects at home. Brainstorming ways to not be ridiculously broke. You know, fun stuff. Trying to find anything that takes my mind off the craziness of it all. I try not to think in terms of "this isn't fair", "we don't deserve this", "why us". That doesn't really seem to get us anywhere good. I tried to put on a brave face for awhile and talk about how if John is all we get then we are still so blessed. Unfortunately, Alex has been trying to remind me of this when I'm down and the more I hear it, the more I hate it. I know I said it first. I know he's just trying to help. But, I don't want that to be our life. John needs siblings. I want to be able to choose the number of children I have. I don't want to be limited by health, fertility, money, fear, etc. etc. etc. I want to be free to be the next Dugger family (minus the scandal) if I want. So I think I'm in the "tantrum" throwing part of the grieving process. Next I'll be stomping my feet and kicking rocks...

I've been waiting, not so patiently, for the "time for another one" conversations to start back up. The universe has seemed to have smiled upon be and put a break to them for the time being. Even people who don't know what is going on have stopped asking. I haven't really formulated my response yet. I can tell them we are done. I can tell them we aren't ready. I can tell them we are trying. I can tell them we are trying, but lost one. I could tell them to go fuck themselves because the last time that I checked, my reproductive plans were no one's business but Alex and I's. So, yeah, we are still working on that one. Maybe I'll be in a better place when I get asked.

I got a new tattoo on Thursday. I thought for awhile about what I wanted, but seemed to struggle with it. This tattoo seemed a little more personal and raw than tattoos of the past. I talked with my artist, who I'm obsessed with, and we came up with the idea of a single black/gray feather. It's on my side underneath the tattoo of John's name and birthday. All of my babies together. I originally wanted to do two feather to represent them, but I thought the symbolism of them was more important than the individual representation of them. I've grown to love it, but it definitely took me a couple of days to be anything but numb to it. It was just a glaring reminder of where I am. Maybe I should have waited awhile before getting it. I wouldn't have changed what I got, or where, I just think maybe it might have been a little easier to process emotionally.

I've been trying hard not to sensor my writing. I can't remember who can and can't see this. I don't know who still reads it or not. I'm sure my mom still does (Hi Mom!) and is just letting me process my thoughts without calling attention to them in the real world. She's good like that. It's hard though, when you wonder what people are going to read about you. That's why I had such a hard time when my blog was more advertised. People in "real life" knowing stuff about me that I didn't tell them directly. Some people used it as their way of knowing what was going on with me, without actually making the effort to be in my life. That was tough. But, I'm just trying to do things a million ways different than last time. Last time I hid this. Didn't talk about it. I drank too much. I got angry. I slipped deeper into depression. It wasn't good. So, I think I'll stay in the light this time. That includes talking about it every time I feel like I need to talk about it.

It's hard to plan life though. I keep looking to the future and wondering what we will be doing at certain times. My Sister in Law is getting married in November. We are trying to figure out a plan for John. He's in the wedding and invited to the festivities, but he's two and not always the most behaved party guest. So we are coming up with plans on plans on plans. Part of me just wants to know that I'll be pregnant and therefore all of these plans with be mute. No need to plan to attend an after party until all hours of the morning if you're all knocked up and unable to drink. Ya know. But, I don't know my future, so who knows where we will be.

Alex and I have been talking about planning a trip in May for our 10 year anniversary. I don't know where we will be then. Part of me wants to plan this fun getaway. Finally get Alex on a plane. Go somewhere warm. Enjoy ourselves freely, but what is the point if I don't know what our life is like. And how long do I plan my life around a "what if"? When do I actually start living it again? Although, "living" it more seems like "giving up", so I think I should probably process through that first. I think that will be pretty important to my timing choice.

Then again, what if this is all for nothing? What if we just had this absolutely shitty experience, again, and I get pregnant relatively quickly and all ends well. That brings up the whole discussion of a 3rd child and possibly facing this again, but I guess that's another monster that we could probably deal with later. I mean, let's work on this one first.

I hope that's our story.

I hope that we just look back on this as some terrible experience that had a profound effect (affect?) on our lives, but we do that while looking at our beautiful children running around. Remembering the darkness while staring at the light.

Oh how I hope that's our story.

I've been praying a lot. I don't consider myself to be overly religious. I started praying the night John was born though. I don't think anyone knows that. I don't think I've ever told anyone that. I prayed every single night for God to keep him safe. I was so petrified that he would be taken away from me. After everything we had been through. I had a really hard time when he was first born, I constantly checked him to make sure he was breathing. For months. So I prayed, hoping that there was a higher power somewhere that would watch over him when I couldn't.

I prayed when I got pregnant this time, but I already knew that the decision had been made before I started. I tried, half-heartedly for a miracle, but I knew in my heart that that story was already written.

So, now I pray. I don't like to talk about it. It's almost like when you're little and don't tell anyone your birthday wish because it won't come true. Although, I'm sure that prayers are a whole different set of rules. I think you can talk about them. But I pray. I pray for our family. I pray for the family that we want. I pray that this season is quick and that we are blessed with another sweet baby soon. I pray that we find a way to make it all OK. I pray.

But there are still those dark moments. Like when I lost my temper at John on Saturday. Frustrated of saying the same thing 12,000 times and him not listening. Frustrated that I can't find a way to get him to stop hitting when he is mad. So I lost my cool. I yelled. We both ended up in tears. And that's when the darkness came. For a second, the thought crossed my mind, "this is why God isn't giving you another baby, because you're a bad Mom. Because you can't handle it". Which brought more tears. That's a whole rabbit hole that I've been trying not to go down. The "whys". Maybe I can't handle another baby. Maybe I can't afford another baby. Who knows. Maybe wanting one isn't enough.

I try not to go down those roads though. They don't lead anywhere good. 

Monday, September 5, 2016

And We Keep Moving...

I haven't had much to say the past couple days. Or maybe I have too much to say. Not really sure which.
Originally, I thought this was all terrible timing. Alex was finishing up his last days at his job and getting ready for his week off. Which meant that his last days and his first days off were filled with a lot of not great things. But, we also got to spend a lot of time together, which I think was a blessing. We spent some of that time not being so nice to each other, but it's hard when everyone has so many thoughts and feelings going around. Everyone deals with things differently.
I figured that Alex understood what was going on, since we have been through this before, but this time was so much different that I don't think that he really got it. It all happened rather quickly, there was no hospital visit, it was a completely different story with the same outcome. It wasn't until I found him an article that was meant to help explain to men what was going on, that he really started to understand. He apologized and said that since he thought I was doing better that things were different. It's hard to explain to someone that when they think you are "OK" it is really just taking every single part of your being to be "OK". It's work. Lots of work.
I went to the doctor on Friday for more blood work. My levels went back to zero, which I guess is a good thing. If they didn't, then I think that would represent that there was something going on. It seems that my body did what it was supposed to and I am relieved that it wasn't necessary to go to the hospital. That was probably one of the most traumatizing parts of last time, so I'm glad that we got to avoid that.
It's still a bit weird though. Yesterday we had our cookout that we planned to tell everyone at, so that was pretty gut-wrenching. It was hard to see Alex smile and giggle at the little babies, not knowing if I'll be able to give that to him again. It's hard to try and remember if I'm supposed to eat something or not, and then remember that I can eat whatever I want. It's hard to feel sick, or start to feel hungry and attribute it to the baby, which I then remember that there is no baby, so it's obviously something else. It's just hard.
I'm not really sure how I am feeling about my doctor now. I really liked her before. When we got pregnant the first time, we decided that we would ask for recommendations for a new doctor because the hospital that she delivers at is really far away. But, they were so amazing to us during out first miscarriage that we stayed. I'm so glad we did. She was wonderful, she ended up delivering John even though she didn't need to since she was filling in for another practice. The hospital was amazing, even though the drive in was dreadful. We considered ourselves lucky that I went into labor early on a Saturday morning, rather than during rush hour during that week. But, she switched practices about a year and a half ago. I followed her even though the office is a lot less convenient for me. But, throughout this whole process, I've been very disappointed in how the office has handled it. It took me from Monday to Thursday, calling every single day about my test results and eventually falling apart on the phone to the woman to finally be able to talk to my doctor. The messages back and forth have been confusing and I emailed her last Monday to clear up my confusion on a couple of things and I still haven't heard from her. God forbid I was pregnant and something was seriously wrong with me (which... I guess you could say is what happened before) would it be like this? Would be lose valuable time because no one would get back to me? I don't know how I feel about it.

If we switch doctors, I wouldn't even know how to go about finding one. I've had her for as long as I have needed a doctor. I liked the hospital, but there are definitely ones closer that I we could choose from. So do we choose a doctor or a hospital first? Or both? So many questions.

The questions just keep coming, I guess.

So that's where we are. Things aren't completely devastating, which I guess is good. We are trucking along, which is good. We have been enjoying spending a lot of family time together, which is always good for the soul. We have one more day left before Alex starts his new job and John and I start our new morning routine. Alex has been responsible for bringing John to wherever he is going since day one pretty much. I've had to make sure everyone has what they need each morning, but I've only had to get myself out the door. It will be a change, but a welcome one for all of the time we will get with Alex now.  

Tuesday, August 30, 2016

And here we are.

I guess if we get anything from this whole situation, at least it ignited my desire to write once again.

For two years I have told myself that I don't have the time, but here I am. Three posts, three days. It's amazing what you can accomplish when it is a priority to you.

Let's talk about life now. And how we got here.

It's been a long time after all, I'm sure you need to be caught up.


John is almost 2 1/2. He's amazing. He is equal parts sweet, funny, crazy, insane, brave, sensitive, smart, caring, etc. etc. etc. I know I'm his mom, but he's pretty much the most exquisite creature I've ever met. I mean, don't get me wrong. There's days that he makes me want to run for the hills, but he's awesome.

Work is ridiculous. I mean, I used to love my job. Who can say that? I loved my job. My boss was amazing. I loved my work. My coworkers were cool. It was great. Then some bullshit went down, my boss switched positions, I got passed over for a promotion, and my new boss was a questionable choice. So yeah...that's been a living hell, BUT ya know, it pays the bills. SO, I keep going in and refrain from screaming.

Alex got the answer to all of our prayers. A new job. He was at his old job for over 8 years. It was time to move on. He had done all that he could do there. He hadn't had a raise in over 8 years. He was killing himself every day and he worked Saturdays. It was rough. He's always worked Saturday, longer than I've known him. But, it was getting increasingly hard with John. Sometimes I just wished that we could be a normal family on the weekends. But it was just a constant battle of trying to fit in a week of bullshit into a Sunday. Family time, Grandparent visits, errands, etc. It was tough.

He finally got the opportunity for an absolutely amazing job. We were so blessed that this came to us. He worked his ass of to make sure that he had everything that he could to help him get it and he did. We are so excited. He finished up his old job this week and he took a week and a half before he starts his new one. He gets out at 3:30 every day (instead of 5:30-6:00 like he used to). Not Saturdays (unless he wants to). Holidays. Time Off. Sick time. Pension. Amazing benefits. It's amazing.

So, imagine our surprise when everything seemed to fall into place. We always talked about how it would be impossible to have two children with his schedule. It was really hard to have so much time with John by myself. To have the main responsibility for needing to get him every day, or if he was sick, or getting everything he needs done. Now, Alex and I will both have a considerable amount of time with all of us together. It's just a whole different world.

And then everything fell into place. New job. New Baby. What a happily ever after.

Until it wasn't.

I'm feeling a bit...angrier today. I'm trying not to be because I know that it is such a long dark road. And I know that once you go down that road, it is SO hard to get off of it. But, it's hard. It's so hard. It was such an ugly place to be in. I just don't want to be there again. So I'm trying. I'm trying so hard.

I keep asking, "why", but I know that I will never know the answer.

I have an appointment with my doctor next week. Apparently more than one miscarriage is a "thing". Yeah... a "thing". So, that's fun. I don't honestly think that they will find anything, which will be frustrating in its own way, but at least we'll know.

I'm not sure what else to write. I think anything else at this point will be forced. But that's where we are. Life was looking up. Until it wasn't.

And here we are. 

Monday, August 29, 2016


I woke up this morning a little bit in disbelief that I am here again.

My head has been pounding for two days. I can't figure out if it is from the crying and stress or if it is from the drop in hormone levels. Dr. Google suggested I drink more water, which I did. I waited until the appropriate time and switched my beverage of choice to something with a little more kick.

Ahh the upside of miscarriages, all the wine you can drink.

It's hard to wrap my head around my "new normal". I was just getting into remembering that I was pregnant and that there were things that I could and couldn't do, eat, etc. I had come to the realization that I had forgotten a great deal of the "rules" before, so I was starting to do a little more research on things.

But, I guess I don't need to do that anymore. I can eat what I want. I can do what I want.

Lucky me.

I finally talked to my doctor today. She apologized for the shitty treatment I was given and basically confirmed everything that I was thinking. She was very sweet and I remembered why I stayed with her even though she is far from convenient now. She has been with me through my entire journey.

We scheduled an appointment for next week. She wants to make sure that my levels go back down to zero. She also wants to do some follow-up testing to make sure that there isn't a reason why this keeps happening. I'm not sure what's worse, the not knowing and it could happen at any time or there actually being a reason. If there is a reason, then maybe something could be done. Or not. So there's that.

The emotions come in waves. I'll be fine, going about my day, and then I remember. Remember what I don't have anymore. Remember that all of our plans have changed. Remember that everything is different.

My go-to reaction when my life is spinning out of control is to grab ahold of everything that I can control and try to make it all nice and neat and pretty. I'm trying to let go of my plan. Trying to ignore the fact that we are benched for at least the next two months, ruining all of our plans for next Summer. I have to remember that I will be so incredibly lucky for all of my plans to be ruined next Summer.

It pushes back all of our plans though. Makes it further between John and his sibling's age. But, I have to remember that I will be incredibly lucky to have John and his sibling have any difference in age.

This changes my whole perspective on a third child. Will be have to go through this again? How many times will be have to go through this again until we have a healthy, sweet baby in our arms? Will be ever have another healthy, sweet baby in our arms? What if John is all we get? Not to say that he is "all we get", he's more than I ever could have dreamed. I just always pictured myself surrounded by a couple little goobers. Looking around at the chaos of it all and being so incredibly thankful for how full my heart is.

The future is unknown and I think that's the scary part. Or maybe it is more that there's a future that I didn't know about looming before me. Is this a blip on our radar? Or is this our life now? How long do we do this? How much must we go through?

The waiting was tough before. I'm glad that we "hopefully" don't have to wait nearly as long as we did before to get started again, but that's still undetermined as well. Will things happen on their own? Will I need to go to the hospital again? When will things get back to "normal"? Will things get back to normal? What is our normal?

I'm trying hard to keep moving. To keep going. To just keep swimming. If I don't stop, then I can't drown right? I'm still letting myself feel, have my moments, talk. But, I'm trying not to dwell. But the waiting. The waiting is hard. Every day that we are "waiting" is a day that we do not have any control over this.

We don't have any control over this.

We don't have any control over this.

We don't have any control over this.

It's hard to let go of the life that you thought you would have. The life that you wanted. The life that you prayed for. It's hard to realize that there is another baby that you thought you were going have that you will never get to hold. It's hard to realize that I am back in this hell again. This deep, dark hell.

I can't believe I am here again.

I can't believe I am here again.

I can't believe I am here again. 

Friday, August 26, 2016

The Waiting...

It's been forever since I've written. Sometimes I miss it. The outlet. The relationships. I consider myself lucky that I have still maintained a great deal of my relationships with the amazing women that I met through blogging. I am lucky to have these women. They know some of my deepest darkest secrets. There's something safe about bearing it all to someone who doesn't know your "real life". In a world of people who spent most of their time talking about everyone else's news, rather than their own, there's a comfort in knowing that you were able to get things off your chest without anything changing in your day to day.

I think that's what drew me to blogging in the first place. I always kept a journal. A diary. Some place where my deepest darkest secrets were kept. Sometimes I wonder if I should hunt them all down and burn them. Wondering what would happen if anyone found them. I cringe at some things that I wrote. Embarrassed for decisions I made. But, I try to remind myself that all of those decisions went into who I am today. Good or bad. They shaped me. Just like all of my life experiences. Everything that I have been through, has deeply contributed to the person that I have become.

I guess that's what brings me back here. These "experiences".

It's happening again.

Alex and I had been talking about adding to our family for  some time. The outside pressure from literally everyone we knew (including strangers at grocery stores) for us to have another baby was insane. Alex was more ready than I was. It just didn't feel right yet. But, we developed a timeline that we thought would work for us and moved forward. I had those small moments of panic when the time came. Like that moment before you jump out of a plane, where you wonder why you're doing this, and whether it is too late to turn back. But, I remembered that most of life's grandest adventures are scary, so we trudged on and I truly felt ready.

We followed the "rules". I read extensively about miscarriage risks. What could contribute to them. How long to wait. I started my prenatal vitamin the 3 months before we started trying, like I should. Then we waited. We had a timeline. A "perfect" month. One that would give me most of the Summer off without really impacting anything that we would want to do while I healed and we got used to being a family of four. (And when I say "we", I mean "me". Alex is of the "whenever" camp, and I am of the, "this is how I would like to plan my life to be". You know what they say God does when you plan right?)

So, we came to "perfect month" and I thought we had missed it. Things were weird. Things were different. Plans didn't go as I thought they would and I tried to remember that I have no control over this. That even if I do everything 100% perfect on my side, there is still some ridiculous chance of it actually happening, like 20% or something. So, I let it go. Until things changed.

And I knew. My gut. I knew. Everything was different. I knew. So I patiently waited for confirmation. But, even when I got it, I was unsettled. It wasn't dark enough. It wasn't clear enough. 74,000 tests later, I finally "relaxed" and accepted the news. I told Alex. We told Nicole and Jamie. And we went forward.

I told myself that I would let my past experiences shape this. That I was going to go through this with the utmost positivity. That despite my 50/50 record, this would work out alright. I called the doctor, made the appointments, but the problem is that she switched to a new practice. This new practice doesn't perform ultrasounds until 13 weeks, and that's only if you request that testing. I started to panic a little. That's too long. I explained my situation, I explained my past, and they agreed to do blood work. Hoping to score an early ultrasound, I went through the steps and waited for the results.

That's when the dread kicked in. The worry. Mother's intuition, right? The numbers came back low. So low. 137. As is protocol, they have you come back 2 days later, because you can tell nothing from one blood draw. I tried to quiet my worry, but I was unsettled. The next number, 72 hours later, 240. It didn't double.

I called the doctor immediately so that she could tell me that it was OK. That it was normal, they range greatly, that it almost doubled so it was close enough. I waited. Nothing. I called the next day. Nothing. Eight-thirty last night I received an email from her. She stated that my levels were low and not doubling like they should and I needed to go back today to get it drawn again. I tried to quiet the worry again. This happens all the time. Some are just slow starters. It would be OK.

But, when I was driving home I lost it. It was all too much. I couldn't believe that I was "here" again. I called my mom and cried. I wanted her to know about it before "it" didn't exist anymore, if it ever did. We had planned on telling our parents this weekend. Our friends next weekend. Wanting to not wait to announce our news this time. Wanting to make sure that we had an army of love and support around us, no matter what the outcome. I don't even think we will get there. I planned to announce early, but apparently not early enough.

So, I'm here. 5 weeks. Waiting to hear. I had no less than 8 million emails today, so far. None of them the test results. I didn't go into work today. I've just been wandering. I ran some errands. Got my nails done. Now I'm sitting eating lunch alone and writing. Waiting. No one knows where I am. I feel alone. All alone. I know I have people "with" me, but there's something so isolating knowing that whatever is going on, is going on in your own body. You're helpless. So is everyone else, but it's not their body.

I'm just wondering why? Why am I here again? Why do we need to do this again? Why can't I just have a normal, wonderful happy experience? Why does this have to be filled with dread and worry? Why are the minutes ticking away so slowly?

It was so hard before. So hard to pull myself out of that deep, dark, hateful hole that I was in. I didn't have John last time. While on some levels, I believe that it won't "allow" be to sink so low, I also know that still needing to be a mom to my one sweet blessing here on Earth, that I won't be able to fall apart like I know I'll need. There's no time for that when you're a mom.

Before, I found comfort in the fact that I have a large amount of friends that had been through it before. A fucked up club that we all belonged to against our will. But we were together in it. We laughed. We cried. We rallied around each other when we needed it. We shared. We drank. We held each other up. We got through it. But, this brings me into a new club. The "multiple miscarriage" club. Now it's a "thing". Not a one-off. Not a freak accident. Not a terrible memory buried underneath all of the baby snuggles from the babies that did make it. Now it's a "thing". A history. 50/50 to 1 in 3. I'm a new statistic. A new bracket. A new level of hell.

I just want to know why. Why is this year so terrible? Why did we lose Nanny and now my baby? Let's not even get into the other shitty things that have happened. We should be celebrating. The end of a shitty 6 months and finishing the year with a bang. Alex finally getting a new job. No more weekends. Early days. Being more of a family. A new beginning. A new adventure. A new baby. We should be rejoicing. Planning. Dreaming. Arguing over names. Starting lovingly at our sweet boy and feeling so damned lucky that we get to do it all over again.

Instead I wait. Alone. To find my fate. More blood draws? Ultrasound? Procedures? Doctors' visits? Changed plans? What will it be?

And here we go....the results are in...

The dropped. It's over.