Tag Archives: miscarriage


Stuck in baby blues as the anniversary of the worst day of my life approaches. Nothing to describe this loss. I always hope the next year will be better. So far they are not.

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Every year hurts just as much as the last.

Especially when I get my period near the date. Most triggering 4 days of the month.

I just want it to be Halloween soon.

Trying to get past this date. Trying really hard.

Baby PTSD and depression


Today I have to attend my stepsister’s baby shower.

The one living in the house I was kicked out of for becoming pregnant. The one getting every bit of assistance, gifts, and advice because she isn’t having the father step forward. Not that I’m saying mothers can’t do it “alone”. Just that I got treated like a plague despite having a supportive partner and a plan of action. Not enough for the Daughter of My Father though.

Perhaps she gets more because I’ve always gotten less and should know better.

They keep saying “another accident” but the way this one is being handled breaks my heart into a thousand pieces.

This morning I sobbed four times while wrapping the gifts. I was able to part with two generic Carter’s outfits from the box I bury in my closet (and take out regularly anyway- just so I don’t forget her). Nothing personalized and definitely nothing handmade goes into the gift bag.

They’re mine. Not for others.

This pain is still some of the rawest feelings I’ve ever experienced.

Other guests just keep saying I look tired. Okay. Sure.

Two Ativan and a couple Zoloft with ephedrine probably does make me look tired.

Bone tired of this subject.

If I could get out of this party I would.

I would probably remove a pinky or toe.

No. More. Babies.

Panic Attack

i’ve never had a panic attack.

but today i realized…just suddenly. out of the blue. today is the 9th.

that means the 6th already passed.

and for a moment i wondered why i was thinking that. i mean, why was that date passing important in this moment.

then it suddenly felt like i’d been suckerpunched right in the gut.

it literally hurt to breathe. my head spun. my vision telescoped.

how could i forget about her? losing her? the day my world turned upside-down entirely. i thought i was going to be a mother. i knew i was ready. i could do it. it didn’t matter what others thought.

and i just forgot.

how could i do that? i deserve to hyperventilate and pass out. it’s fair.

anything for her.

5 months

I never thought 5 months could be a whole lifetime.

I never thought 5 months would haunt me for a lifetime.

I never thought 5 months could fit in a single shoebox.

I never thought 5 months would be so hard to forget.

I never thought 5 months would scar so deep.

I never thought 5 months could have love bloom so completely.

I never thought 5 months could cause heartbreak.

I never thought 5 months would be all I got.

Her name was going to be Cordelia.


Coping with the M word

I’m already dreading Sunday and feeling that curling sick feeling in my stomach.

Probably won’t post this weekend.

I heard two women on the elevator this morning talking about st–lborns and mis—riages.  I have no idea why a person would discuss such topics on a busy public elevator.

I’ve had some planning issues with having company on Sunday.  I’m not sure if it’s going to happen.

Army get some credit though, as he is trying very hard to get a shift swap to take place so he can be off.  The problem is he has this absolutely horrible partner that everyone in his company hates and no one wants to work with.  So I’m not sure about him being available.

Texas was supposed to be, but she said she’s got some homework and her boyfriend’s soccer game.  I keep reminding myself that I need to stop being selfish and other people have lives and sitting with a dumb girl who is just having a case of the mentals is no one’s idea of a good way to spend a Sunday.

Rogers said he’s still down.  And he’s being gracious about Army joining us if he is able to get off.

I’m just dreading it so much.

I know I shouldn’t drink or down any pills that day or my mind will just swirl out of control.  Rogers has offered me the herbal alternative if I would like, but I am unsure how that would affect me when I’m so unbalanced.  Especially with the DID/MPD.

I just want this weekend to pass without me carving words into my skin again while high on pills and drunk on booze.  And alone.  Last year was such a mess.

I just want to have an excuse to not dwell.  If I’m alone, I know I’ll dwelldwelldwell.  But it feels so ridiculous and selfish asking other people to spend time with me when I know I’ll be probably semi-robotic and terrible company.

I should stop being so selfish and just stay at the apartment.  Maybe I could managing some sort of movie-thon on my own.

Oct 6th

October 6th.

It’s coming.

10 days.

10 days seems like a flash.  I wish I could just gloss over it.  Don’t think about it.  Don’t acknowledge it.  Don’t remember it.

Unfortunately, it combines with my father’s birthday.  Isn’t that fantastic?

I remember he was in Las Vegas when it happened.  Of course, that afforded me the opportunity to stay at his house.

Away from people.
Away from Army; furious I hadn’t told him what hospital I was at.  Suddenly he cares?  Out of nowhere he actually gives a shit?  No.  You do not get to magically start giving a shit about something so precious.  Especially when it’s being lost.

I’m being unfair. He’s being so wonderful lately. Trying so hard. Making me smile.

But back then…

That horrible day.

6 hours in the hospital.  A box of pills intended for a new arthritis treatment because my body doesn’t know how to just let things go.

Over a week of excruciating pain due to those pills.  Barely get out of bed pain.

The night I get back from the hospital, I dig out the cans of 4 Loko I’ve hidden under my childhood bed and find frozen fruit in Dad’s freezer.

His blender is a nice one and chops the ice perfectly.  Dad doesn’t buy milk or juice, so I use only the 4 Loko as the liquid for the smoothie.

It is strong.

My texts to Army become so bad that he calls me.  I slur.  He changes from angry to extreme concern.  I let slip that I’m alone at Dad’s.  He says he’ll be there in 20.

I fail to mention the messages I’ve been exchanging with Katherine.  Because I am still an idiot at this point.  My fractured self desperately clings to the past.

And her father saw me in the ER, so of course she is curious.  She is concerned.

She sees the fracture, the pain, the scars.  She claws them open further with her sharp nails.

And I let her.  I relish in the tearing flesh, the prickling heat of blood, the teeth, the tears.  I offer myself up and beg for more.  It’s a dance we’re both familiar with.  The steps are well-worn, not forgotten at all.

Until Army shows up.

He fumbles with being the white knight.  It isn’t a role he does, except with guns and medicine.  But I am not in physical danger.  For now.
He checks my vitals anyway.  My blood oxygen is low.  He is angry I want to be alone, despite the doctors expressly forbidding otherwise.

He’s found my discharge paperwork from the hospital.  Not that I hid it.

He takes the smoothie, tastes it, and glares.  I laugh.  His eyes go from irritated to anxious so quickly.  I idly wonder how I can affect him like this now; when for months he’s been like a robot.

He says he will be taking me home with him.  Tonight.  Whether I walk or am carried to his car is up to me.

I reach for the smoothie.  He goes to the kitchen and dumps it down the garbage disposal.  I sigh.  I cannot summon anger.  I was so angry just 24 hours ago.  I was blaming him for all my discomfort, my depression, my lack of friends.

But now.  Now I’m just tired.  I just want to sleep.  Forever.

Distantly, I hear Army talk about me needing to eat.  I chuckle at this.  I will never eat again.  I couldn’t manage to keep a small, flickering life lit inside me.  Why the hell would I bother with myself?  It’s all pointless anyway.  The doctors say there is a good chance I am broken now.


If my body would just learn to let things go.

Just let it go.  Please.  That’s all I want right now.  I just want to stop dwelling.
I want to not hear the ghostly whispers of Audrey begging for suicide.  Screaming our faults.  Trying to tear at the scars.

I just want to lie down and wake up to October 10th.  Or Halloween.

Can we just skip it all?

Let it go.

Baby Shower

We just finished my coworker’s baby shower and I am triggered beyond belief.

I did not expect it to be this bad.

I feel so weak and dumb and stupid that I can still be so wounded over a year later.

I did get a bit of smile when my coworker (J) opened my gift for her and just beamed at it.  She loves elephants.  It’s entirely a coincidence that what I gave her had elephants on it though.

Because it was one of the items I had stowed away from my pregnancy.  I could never bring myself to donate them or even throw them away.

I really struggled with whether to give it to J or not.  But she has been such a great coworker and friend to me that it felt like the safest home for my things.

And seeing her smile and then turn to hug me so tightly….I think I did the right thing.

But feeling her stomach press against me….my heart breaks. 

Seeing all the little things our office got her…my heart breaks.

Hearing them all talk about due dates, and weights, and labor wards, and OB doctors….my heart breaks.

I will never get to experience that.
And it wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t been given a taste of that beautiful dream.

Felt the fluttering movement inside me.

Saw how everything was right and hopeful and so many were sweet and supportive.

Heard that heartbeat.

But my body is not worthy.  I am not worthy.

And so I watch others live my dreams.  And I hope that they realize what a beautiful gift they’ve been given.  That they are so very, very full.

And I am so very very empty.

Things better left unsaid

Obviously the theme for us American bloggers these past couple days seems to be Mother’s Day.

I hate Mother’s Day.

I didn’t used to.

Unlike some of my lovely blog-friends who have had awful experiences with moms growing up and have a complete to dodge and duck the holiday for their whole life- I have a great mom.

I can say nothing too bad about her.  Her flakiness can be obnoxious, but her love and support more than makes up for it.  She is wonderful and I thanked her profusely yesterday.  For about two hours.  That was all I could handle.

Since October of 2011, I cannot handle Mother’s Day.  I hate it.  I hate that everyone in public assumes that a female in her mid-twenties must be given well wishes because of course she has children.

Of course.

I wonder sometimes what would happen if when someone came up and said “Happy Mother’s Day!” to me I just answered, “My baby died two years ago.  And technically, by the guidelines and definition of motherhood, I’m not even a mother.”

I have that deep down urge to just make people feel like shit.

But it’s an empty urge.

I don’t wish to make others uncomfortable.  Mostly because I don’t wish to share my pain.  I don’t wish to show my scars.

Some things are better left unsaid.

Triggers of pregnancy

I knew this would happen.

I mean, that I would eventually be triggered.

I didn’t expect it to be in this way….


So of course I have to tell Army about Zoe being pregnant.  I mean, not only is he like- lets say a godfather to her, but he’s over at my place occasionally.  He’s gonna notice at some point.

I expected him to be annoyed at me for not keeping a better eye on Zoe.

He was not.

He is ecstatic.  He is begging me to contact him the moment I know she’s in labor so he can be there.  He wants to help her as much as possible.

Everything just….just the complete opposite of how he responded to me a year and a half ago.

So now I mean less than a dog.  And puppies are much more important than a-


I won’t say it.

If I don’t say it, then it isn’t real.

I feel that fracturing and I don’t want it.  I can’t have it.

splits and cracks and bones and blood and lets hurt him- lets maim him.  like he maimed us.  have the blood and the pain and the hurt-

I have too much to do.  I have to work on getting a car.  I have to keep things afloat at work-

Has she told you how work is going?  I am doing my best to keep things from falling apart, but the program is going badly and turnover is decreasing exponentially.  There is a high chance that I will have to shoulder the blame.  Despite it not being remotely my fault.  I may end up being fired.  I cannot be fired.  I do not get fired.  I am good at my job.  I am an excellent multi-tasker with exceptional attention to detail.  I am highly motivated by deadlines and task lists-

I don’t want to fracture.  I don’t want to start losing time again.  I just want to be normal.

But I don’t want to listen to him coo and smile over her.  I don’t want to hear that.  I don’t want to watch it.  I can’t.  I can’t.  I can’t.

Don’t worry.  You won’t have to.