Tag Archives: pregnancy

Rotten week

This week is a bad one.
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1.) The wake of Mother’s Day. A holiday I haven’t dealt with well for a couple years now. Add to that my stepfather being extra-dick to my mom while we tried to bond and it was an extra-rotten day.

2.) My best friend is finally visiting the U.S. from all Germany. But she’s on the other side of the country. To be fair, her mom bought the plane ticket (that’s where her mother’s family lives). But it’s rough having her closer and yet still so far. Almost a full five years since I was last able to hug her.

3.) My stepsister announced her pregnancy. Accidental. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But she’s flipping a bit on how to deal. And where to go. It’s shockingly familiar to me. And yet, my father is welcoming her with open arms. That’s a whole fucking different story than when it was me. I do wish her the best, but dealing with my family’s fluffy treatment of her compared to the brick walls I got is extremely difficult.

4.) Still haven’t found a job. Not handling that well.

5.) My brother, Grey’s, constant parties and having friends over while not actually helping me clean/maintain the household is starting to raise my anxiety to unmanageable levels. I’ve basically been holed in my room for 3 days now, slipping out briefly only to let the dog out.

6.) Food and I are not getting along. Grey keeps asking me about grocery shopping (because he doesn’t want to put forth his own money of course…) and I keep telling him later. It’s gotten to the point that he’s bringing himself home food from work since our kitchen is pretty much bare. But I like it bare. It makes the restricting easier. I wish he would recognize the signs and just go shopping himself. Gods know I’m not going to tell him.

7.) I’m supposed to drive across the state on Saturday to visit an old friend I haven’t seen in years (we’re both depressed about Germany not coming to Ohio). I’m both stressed and looking forward to it. Hoping I don’t make an idiot of myself. I also somehow need to get my ass in gear by Friday night because I promised to bring a baked dessert. Fuck.

8.) I would like to sleep until fall please. Thanks.

I’m not trying to list complaints in hopes for some pats on the back or anything. I just need to try and purge it, so to speak. Listing them sometimes helps. Perhaps I can focus on other things now.

I can hope, right?



I think I’ve done something crazy.

Well, like a normal kind of crazy. Not a crazy kind of crazy.

Maybe I better explain.

A dear friend of mine is in a tight spot financially and physically. She just finished a complicated pregnancy. Thankfully, the baby is absolutely perfect without health issues. She is still recovering (had to do a c-section for medical reasons) and cannot do much for 6 weeks. For reasons I don’t really want to get into (even though this is semi-anonymous, it’s still her life and her privacy and I want to respect it), she needs a place to stay for a couple weeks. Possibly 2-3 months.

Since I have a 4 bedroom house and no landlord, I offered mine.

I am not sure how it will go. But it clicked the moment I offered. I don’t get much into religion on this blog, but I think I did the right thing. It felt right. On a spiritual level.

I suppose we shall see.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to help with figuring out some supply stuff, doctor referrals, and safe transport type things. I am hoping it goes as smoothly as it can.

Any thoughts (and prayers) are appreciated.

Enjoy this picture of me holding the cutest baby in the freaking world. Seriously, he’s perfect.

Me and the baby

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.

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.

Windchimes again

Perhaps this is what the warning was for.

Everything going sideways.

I think it was from Audrey.  I’m so sorry Audrey.  I’m sorry for everything that happened to you, for everything you went through.

I understand why you went away.

Sometimes I think about joining you.

Sometimes I think we should all join you.

But I know that’s wrong and bad.
It’s just…everything She did…everything She didn’t.
I don’t understand how it means nothing to Kit and Midori and Serefina.  We lost Audrey over everything She did.  Sweet, soft, gentle Audrey.  Audrey who only ever loved with every bit of herself as deeply as she could.
And all it did was hurt her.  And destroy her.

Then there was Cordelia.  Our darling. Our light. Our life. Two against the world.
…I didn’t know my heart could break this much.  And now the anniversary is approaching, rearing it’s ugly head and reminding us of all the ways we aren’t good enough.

Rika has a theory that Audrey and I are twinned (Shadow Dragon talks about that concept occasionally).  I guess I can see that.  It would explain why I only have felt like half of a whole since she’s been gone.

Maybe if I keep talking to her…if I don’t act like she is gone…maybe Audrey will come back.  She could come back and fix everything…

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

(I adore “Fistful of Dollars” much more than “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly”, but it made sense for this post)

This post was really hard to write, but it needed to be done.  We need to work through some of this and cleanse it from our mind and psyche.


The Good:
His poetry was terrible.  Looking at it a second time, Kit started to crumple the paper before she hesitated.  No one ever wrote poetry about her.  And he did talk endlessly about her eyes in person too.  She smiled and stuck it in her locker.  She couldn’t take it home where her father could see it.

“Ready to go?” He asked.  She turned and shrugged.

“I don’t really want to go home.  Dad’s been even worse lately.”

“Well…” He winked at her, “I do have a car. It is capable of going places besides your house.”

“Really?” She answered with teasing skepticism.  He laughed and grabbed her hand.

“Come on.”

He took her to Lincoln Park to walk around the pond and through the trees.  It was beautiful and she forgot all about her father.

That night he convinced her to sneak out after Daddy came home and lay on the hood of his car, staring at the stars.

Sometimes he could be romantic.

The Bad:
Kit saw every time he stared at Texas extra long.  She knew he was driving Texas home while she volunteered at the library.

But she said nothing.

It came as no surprise we he said he was dumping her to be with Texas.

Though it didn’t hurt any less to be unwanted.

The Ugly:
There were the days he refused to give rides to any of their friends and just took Kit straight to her house.

Her dad didn’t come home until after 6:00, which gave him almost a full three hours.

It always started on the couch.

It always ended on the bed.

He always found ways to scar deep into her mind as well as her skin, despite her being adamant about not doing “it“.

There were so many things that weren’t it.

Maybe it would have been better to just do it.


The Good:
Their anniversary was Valentine’s Day.  It was always a big deal.

There was the year Kit planned an elaborate two day event where they shut themselves in their house with plenty of food, drink, and snacks and watch the entire first season of “Gargoyles”.

The last year Katherine planned a beautiful night in a hotel room for the two of them.
It was a surprise and Kit was blindfolded on the drive over.  The surprise floored her.  Romantic actions always did, even though Katherine was frequently romantic.  Kit was always unsure whether she deserved that. They cuddled and watched plenty of “Dexter”.
[Kit tried to force herself to have the sex that was expected, but the dreams and flashbacks had been dark and Charlotte was far away those days.]

The Bad:
Katherine’s employment was always an issue.  Sometimes she was employed for long hours and treated in such horrible ways that had her upset or depressed a lot of the time.

There was a long chunk of time where she was unemployed and Kit had to bite back anger and frustration at having to pay all the bills and still do most of the chores.

But the hardest was when Katherine had a job that had her working third shift and Kit had to sleep alone.  She hated that.  The dreams were dark and the bed cold.

Being woken with a kiss only just made up for it.

The Ugly:
Being dumped broke her heart.

But her heart broke even further when Katherine took their dog to a completely different state.

The dog that had gotten her through those first few horrible months of loneliness.  The first dog to save her from suicide.  She almost refused to let the policeman in her house when Kally’s bark sent his hand to his gun holster on the porch.  She begged him not to even think about shooting Kally, tears streaming down her face, before she unlocked the door.

She dreamed about her sweet dog constantly and in those moments between asleep and awake, it always felt like the lab-chow mix was curled up at her feet.

She never was.

Kally, the lab-chow mix. She’s smart, sweet, and protective.



The Good:
He is always good in a crisis.  Always.

From the first semi-medical situation he offered to help with (a horrible allergic reaction after going to see 4th of July fireworks and both of Kit’s legs broke out in huge rashes that had her sobbing when they brushed against anything) up until the migraine medicine shot he gave us a couple weeks ago (this entry).

When we miscarried, he was upset that we wouldn’t tell him which hospital we were at.  He didn’t force us to come home when we first took refuge at Daddy’s empty house (who was in Las Vegas) until we’d been there for two days and when he checked on us we were drunk as a skunk and playing with the notion of downing our bottle of prescription narcotics.  Then he dragged us to his car and drove us home.

He easily let us come back to the apartment after we were hospitalized and said he would happily shoot Stalker if he came looking for us there (despite Stalker being a military cop).

And he has always been so sweet to Zoe, from day one.

The Bad:
She really didn’t want to tell him.  But she knew she had to.  She started with a cowardly text.

“Want to get a late lunch today? Missed you last week.”

He agreed to meet at her place within the hour.  She rocked back and forth on the couch.  Then she quickly made sure the front door was open so he could just walk in.  She didn’t trust herself to open it when he knocked.

He walked in to see Kit white-faced, chewing her bottom lip nervously.  He tilted his head and let out a chuckle.

“Did I catch you playing with yourself?” He joked.  Kit barely heard, but both Rika and Charlotte rolled their eyes internally.  Kit mutely shook her head.  Army stopped and looked at her carefully.
“What is it?”

“I have to tell you something.” She whispered. He paused.

“Well, as long as you aren’t pregnant.” He joked.  She didn’t answer. It was his turn for his face to go white. “Are you?” He demanded.

“Yes.” She whispered.

He sat on the floor, hard.  “Fuck.”

She curled more tightly into herself and tried to go back into the head, but none of the other alters were having that.  She was shoved back out.  She hugged her knees.

Suddenly he got up and walked out the front door.

She gaped after him.

She guessed she probably should have expected that.  He made such a huge deal about not ever wanting children the one or two times that topic of conversation casually came up.

She was crying when he walked back in and closed the front door behind him.  She stared, then wiped at her face, trying to compose herself.

“I-I thought you were j-just leaving.” She stuttered out.  He frowned.

“Wow. You really think I’m an asshole. No, I left the car running for us to go to lunch. Because it’s so hot out. But I’m way too nauseous to eat now. Plus we should talk.”

She thought it was sort of weird that he said he was nauseous.  That’s what had tipped her off to the whole possibility in the first place a week ago.

They didn’t talk.  They sat there in her living room for over an hour.  Occasionally a sentence was said.

“So you’ve actually seen a doctor?” He would ask.

“Yes.” She would softly reply.

Or he would just repeat cuss words over and over.

She wondered if she truly was that repulsive.  After an hour passed, she figured she should make sure he understood where she stood.

“You don’t…have to like, stay with me. I can just…handle this. If you want to just go find some other casual kind of relationship.”

He stared at her like she was an alien.

“I mean…obviously I must be…completely unsexy now. It’s fine. I get that.” She continued. His frown came back and he scooted closer to the couch and her.  He awkwardly reached for her foot and stroked up her thigh.

“No. I’m not going to run. You aren’t automatically unsexy. I mean, I have to follow something like this through. Do the responsible thing. Even if it sucks.”

Fantastic. Now she’s a responsibility.

The Ugly:
Mere weeks after she miscarried, he got a vasectomy.  He didn’t even tell her about it in advance.  The only reason she knew the day of the surgery was because his sister-in-law texted about it, assuming Kit knew.

It wasn’t that she wanted (living) children with this man.  She knew she didn’t.  She had found out over the past 5 months how much he didn’t want them and it made her think of her own father too much.  She didn’t wish that on any possible child of her’s.

But she was still grieving.  And she certainly didn’t have the mental capability to take care of him after a surgical procedure.  She was still not back to work full-time due to her lack of full health.
And the fact that he didn’t even mention it to her felt like a slap in the face.  She thought they were at least attempting to be a couple.

When she tried to explain to him, he did get it at all.

And that’s when she fully realized what kind of man he was.

And the depression clawed at her further.  They hadn’t even had sex in weeks.  Was he trying to be “prepared” for someone else?  Why else schedule it so quickly? He scheduled not only within weeks of her miscarriage, but within weeks of them not having sex. For the first time ever. Maybe he just couldn’t go that long without sex and found someone else. Someone better.

The suicidal thoughts raced around her head.  She toyed with the Vicodin, Tylenol, and Codeine she had.
There were multiple nights Army came into her room because he “heard strange breathing” and then he would yell at her for what seemed like hours for taking a handful of pills.  He called her stupid and silly.

Of course she was.

That’s why she wanted to die.

It wasn’t until she was given a tiny fluff-ball of fur by a friend that she realized she had to pull it together. This tiny 6 week old puppy needed her.

And we named her Zoe.

Tiny Zoe gets a belly rub

The corner was her favorite place to sleep those first few weeks

She’s gotten so big since then!!

Tribute to Charlotte

Armes requested that we all do a sort of tribute to Charlotte to try and help her.  Some of us don’t feel like saying much, still a bit too shocked and wounded by the whole situation, but we’ll do our best.

i like how she always take over the body if someone or something scared me. she doesn’t always get along with the others, but she’s always nice to me.
i don’t like how her dreams are bad sometimes. she dreams about people doing hurting things and taking her clothes off, but in the dream she liked it. she refuses to tell me about it and always says she’s sorry her dreams upset me.
she watches disney movies with me too, though she doesn’t like other people to know that. she said she didn’t want anyone to think she had a “romantick side”.
she sneakes me strawberry ice cream or milkshakes if she’s out.


I hate how she fucking flirts with almost anyone who has a penis.  I hate that she usually manages to make that work for her.  I hate that she almost never listens to my advice on whether people are trustworthy.
I like that she did listen with Stalker, even though she flirted with him past the point she should have for our safety. She was really regretful about that though. I like that she handles any sexual encounters that upset the others, even if it isn’t the “type” of sex she’s “into”.  She still understands her job, unlike most.
I hate her cravings that work their way into the system and body.
I like that she takes care of it herself most of the time.


I love how she’ll usually split her cigs with me, even if they are sometimes those disgusting Parliaments. I love how she praises my baking to high heaven, even if she pretends to bitch about the calories making it “harder to flirt”.
I hate how she rips on my music, but then I catch her humming the tunes sometimes.
I hate how she twisted the BDSM lessons we learned from our exes into something pleasurable for her. I like how she doesn’t let anyone else drag us into sex games anymore. I love how she’ll talk to people at a doctor’s office when I can’t contain my fear enough.  I hate how we both can’t handle hospitals.
I love that she’ll look the other way when I swallow a couple extra pills and help me slip some baking supplies into the cart during the next shopping trip.
I hate what Daria did to her.


I like that she knew better than to smoke around family (besides Grey).   I hate how she jokes that Claire and I are “practically the same”. I love that she can always tell us apart, even with her eyes closed.
I love that she’s sweet with Armes.  I love when she lets us all share snuggles with Zoe, even if it’s her rightful time out.
I hate that she doesn’t realize she’s stronger than this.


I hate that she thinks she isn’t worth anything unless a man wants her.  I hate that she loves it even more when it’s more than one man. I hate it so much that she decided it was better to shove away someone who was so good for us because of rumors of another man’s sexual prowess.
I love that she made herself not do that this year. She said it was just for me, but I know she really was realizing her deep-down morals. I love that she let herself feel attraction, even without sex for weeks.  I hate that I felt a little jealous of Saturday night, even though it was my own stupid fear that made her take over. I love that she didn’t turn in into some kind of depraved type of sex…
I love and hate that she mourned so much for Audrey and the loss of the pregnancy, even though she refused to be around “the grossly pregnant body”.
I hate that she tried to be some sort of stupid hero last night and I hate that it made her so scared.  I hate that it scares me so much to see her so scared.  She’s always been mostly fearless, like Rika.
Please don’t be like Audrey. You’re so much stronger than her. We need you so much.

Dreams Again

(Trigger warning: some of these dreams are…R-rated, so to speak. Not X, just R. Read safely please.)

Last night’s were a weird mix of not-quite-memories and just fears we’ve been having…but again, in the quick slideshow-type way that we rarely get.

A gray truck hovers behind us as we drive around our old neighborhood.  We can’t quite make out the driver, but we know he is male and smoking as plumes of smoke ooze from his open window.  Though we know these streets better than our own mind, no matter how fast we turn and double-back and flip around, we can’t lose him.


The red-yellow of a desert surrounds us and as we spin around taking in the beauty of it. A cough escapes us and we suddenly realize we are incredibly parched.  Automatically we glance behind us and see a campsite.  Heading over, there is a figure hunched over a smothered bonfire.  He’s holding a large canteen of water.  He turns as we approach and starts to offer it.  We reach, our hand just about to connect before he flips it over and pours out the contents onto the dry earth.  It is absorbed into the thirsty ground in an instant.
“Sorry cupcake, all out.” His voice says and we realize it’s the voice of someone who’s smack in the middle of puberty, not quite a man. Glancing up to his face, it’s those hazel eyes and the floppy blond-brown hair and we fall back onto the ground, our tailbone smarting from impact.  We start to skitter back and he chuckles.
“Wanna play hide and seek?”


We are determined to prove to them can we can bake drunk.
Midori smirks at the three skeptical faces. “I can bake the hell outta cookies drunk.” She states firmly, then heads into the kitchen. It’s a good thing it’s Daddy’s kitchen and she’s able to automatically reach for ingredients in a place she’s been familiar with since early teen years.
He follows us in, just as drunk, if not drunker. Midori is only half-listening to his rambled thoughts, even as Claire tries to listen harder, recognizing the deep importance of them.  Midori shoves Claire away roughly so she can mix the dough. She easily molds it into balls and puts them on a sheet before popping them into the oven.  She starts to wash her hands when she feels him draw closer.  The intimacy and heat of it has Charlotte out in a moment, grinning and tilting her head down and to the side in submission. Her stomach coils with that tight heat in happy expectation of what will come next.


A red silk tie dangles in front of our eyes, swishing back and forth a couple times.
“You know the rules.” Our Master says firmly. Charlotte steps eagerly forward and immediately kneels on the bed, head bowed and wrists presented forward.
“Yessir.” she says softly.  Despite the body of our Master being female and being referred to as such in the public world, Charlotte knows better than to allude to this.  It is a firm rule in the bedroom.  The tie quickly binds our wrists before being securely tied to the top post of the bed frame. Charlotte twists in ecstasy.  Suddenly our Master frowns in recognition.
“I did not request your presence.” The voice says darkly. Charlotte freezes, her face turning petulant.
“But Sir…”
“No Charlotte.”  The tone leaves no room for argument. Charlotte sighs and mentally steps back. Our face is blank for a moment before it turns fearful. Our Master smiles. “There we go. Hello Clarissa. Turn on your side now.”
“Yes…sir.” She whispers.


We stand at the base of a statue of Mary and try not to think of the irony as we turn to face Becca.  She smiles slightly.
“You can tell me anything. You know that.”
Kit trembles, but forces a smile, “How do you know I wanted to talk and not just hike?”
“Come on. We only come here when you need to vent. Badly. What’s up? Fuck-buddy thing not working out anymore? Wouldn’t surprise me. Army’s a complete asshole. I told you not to.”
“I can’t do…real relationships anymore.” Kit murmurs, a hand reaching into the front pocket of her jeans and pulling out the Zippo etched with a butterfly. The hand flicks the top on and off compulsively.
“Bullshit.” Becca says with an eyeroll, “I still say you should have given Je-”
“Stop. Shut up. That’s not what this is about.” Her trembling is worse now and Becca finally notices. Her eyes soften.
“What is it?”
“My period is super late.” Kit says bluntly. Becca blinks. “You know I’m like clockwork.”
“It’s probably stress.” She replies smoothly. Kit winces.
“I already took a test.”
“And?” Becca asks. Kit lets out an annoyed hiss of breath, Rika merging with her for a split-second.
“Would I have you out here if it were fucking negative?”
“Jesus. Who the fuck have you told?” Becca says, sinking onto a bench by the statue. We remain standing, the nervous flicking of the Zippo speeding up.
“You. And Grey. That’s it.”
“So…not Army?” She states. Kit trembles again, but this time she can’t sustain. She flees. Rika sighs and sits down on a bench across from Becca.
“Fuck no. I’m not a goddamn idiot.” Becca stares. “Well. I mean, I guess I have to eventually or some shit. But…maybe I don’t. I could totally not fucking tell him.”
“That’s a terrible idea.” Becca murmurs. “He’s an asshole, but that’s not fair to him at all.”
“I could go to Germany with you.” Claire says, her eyes wild. “Just…sell everything, sell Pete [our car] and have enough for a plane ticket.”
“Run away, huh? That’s your answer for everything. I’d love to have you come with me, but I love you and you’re not allowed if it’s only to run away.”


It’s Audrey who first notices the blood.  She freezes and suddenly pushes Army away firmly.  He blinks in surprise before he glances down and sees it.  Audrey faintly wonders who’s idea was it to own a freakin’ white couch.  Her face drains of color to match it and she trembles.  Her place of blame is immediate, and probably unfair, but at this moment she only thinks of his distance (especially when she cries), his constant demand for intimacy. She doesn’t think of how he makes sure there is always strawberry ice cream for her constant cravings or ginger ale for her morning sickness. Or how gentle he is when she gives in to his advances.
He will never touch her again.
Within a week, Audrey is gone, never to resurface. Charlotte doesn’t mind taking over the physical demands. She quickly introduces him to her darker tastes and he embraces them easily.


Roms decides to go to this Pagan circle meeting for a second time.  The first was a fluke- the meet-up was near work and we wanted an excuse to not have to go home immediately.  But we could go for the apple cider the coffee shop carries.  Texas agrees to join us and we walk in, immediately recognizing the circle’s leader, SD.  We smile and introduce Texas before SD mentions there will be someone new coming tonight.  When she talks about him, it is in a warning way.  He is deeply flawed and we need to be aware.  She warns us of his dark and flirty nature and Roms frowns, making sure Charlotte is firmly corralled.
When he walks in, SD’s energy shifts entirely and she positively grins at him.  Roms is startled until she feels Rika’s chuckle from the balcony of our mind. “Well…look at the parade in that one.”
Roms hesitates before a small smile flickers across our face.

Horrific situation- a chat between Claire and Rika

(Trigger warning for the subject of miscarriage again and a warning for Rika’s awful potty mouth. Sorry.)

C: We just got a text from a long-time friend.  I don’t know what to do about this cataclysmic result.  I’m holding a semblence of control by “chatting” with you over the text in this post.  There’s no “inside room” to talk like we normally have. It’s just disappeared.

R: Obviously the fucking universe thinks it’s goddamn hilarious to do something like this to us after your last entry about the miscarriage and how we’ve been feeling today in general.

C: The text is a simple question of asking us how “pregnancy nausea” felt because “well, you’ve been pregnant”.  Yes. I suppose we have.

R: There’s a goddamn understanding with the fucking people who know us to limit their talk about pregnancy with us.  And definitely don’t goddamn talk to us about OUR goddamn pregnancy.  Why the fuck would you do that??? Something that had us almost commit suicide??? Are they just fucking dumber than a box of rocks???

C: I typed a brief response as best I could before the triggering overpowered us.  Now we can’t stop switching and we’re at work and it’s just…a mess. How are we supposed to work if Serefina can’t even stay out?  She’s always been able to override a “switch-off” in the past during a business day.  Her “powers” are career and work related.  That’s her area.

R: I’ll tell you goddamn why.  It’s because even us protectors can’t handle switching related to that goddamn miscarriage.  Fucking Charlotte and her fucking casual sex.

C:  Don’t talk like that.  That baby was loved by all of us and you know it.

R: No goddamn comment on what feelings I had during the pregnancy.  My point is Charlotte deserved a lesson on fucking protection and birth-control.

C: I’m wondering if we should make this entry private.  Especially with your mouth.

R:  Fucking whatever.  I never get to talk in this damn blog obviously.

C: All right. That is true.  This is supposed to be healing and cathartic.  You need it too.

R: Ugh.  You sound like fucking Roms.  Go back to writing and daydreaming about a white knight.