You know what sucks? It sucks when you're going along with your life, thinking that you're totally dealing with your recent tragedy, that you're sort of okay, getting over it even, then suddenly you have a meltdown and realize that you've been wound so tightly just trying to function that you're about to lose your fucking mind. You realize that you haven't been dealing, you've been avoiding, that you're so angry, so volatile, so brittle, and so depressed that you're acting like a crazy person. That you've used up all this time you could have been healing convincing yourself that you're fine and not really healing at all.

Yeah, that sucks.

Luckily, realizing how fucked up I am has actually helped. Letting myself not be okay has made me a little more okay than I was. I certainly have more patience with Thomas (poor kid has been dealing with a psychotic mom for a while) since I realized how bad I really was feeling. That, in turn, makes me feel less guilty, since every time I lost my patience with him I felt like a monster.

I have sent an email to my midwife to see if she can recommend a good Psychologist. That might help as well. Also, I'm going to get back off my ass and work out every day. On top of the depression and mourning, my disgust at myself for being so out of shape is just making things worse. I figure that every little thing I can do will help. Keeping the house clean was helping, but I've been gone for the last two weeks. Working out was helping, but it was so unbearably HOT in Denver while I was there that the thought of breaking an additional sweat (when I was already nauseated from the 100+ degree weather and altitude) was repellant enough to give me a good excuse to sit around on my kiester. Today, though, today Thomas and I are going for a walk, to the park, and while he naps I'm going to work out. I need the feeling of doing something and the endorphins.

I'm also going to send off an email to a counselor at Berkeley and see about planning out my schedule for going back. I only have two semesters' worth of credits to go and I'd like to get on it. That will also give me time to get in shape. With a Bachelor's in Psych and being fit I should be ready to tackle the Police Department exams. I should also get in contact with a training officer at Daly City PD and maybe at SFPD as well and just have a talk with them about my options and chances for passing the exams and getting hired. This all means putting off having another baby, but I think that's for the best right now. I don't want another baby, I want Alexander. I can't have him, though, and I need to deal with that loss before I will be ready to deal with another pregnancy and child. I need to work through this and concentrate on being a good mother to Thomas for now before I am going to be able to have another baby. And, I think that having a good reason to go back to school and going for a career that I feel passionately drawn to will be good for me.

I was doing pretty good yesterday and this morning, but this afternoon sucks. I'm tired. I'm depressed. I'm still bleeding. That's the worst part, I think, the constant reminder every time I go to the bathroom.

You know who's awesome? Seriously awesome? My husband is awesome. I am feeling down and tired and out of sorts so what is he doing? He's coming home early just to be with me. Because he's awesome and it's always worse when he's not here. He makes me feel safe.

I started writing again yesterday, though, and that felt good. I dug out the tiny bit of the NaNoWriMo project I started a couple of years ago. I can't find all of it, but the excerpt I posted here was a good seed for something. I didn't get a lot added to it, but it was fun to just be writing and I think I can go in an entertaining direction with the story. It will, if nothing else, get my mother off my back. She's been nagging me to write more and, as you can probably tell by the frequency with which I update this thing, I just haven't been up to it much in the last year or more.

Thank you for all the comments and sympathy. I really appreciate knowing that so many people were thinking of us as we've been going through this.

It's been a week and a day now. We had the D&C on Friday, so I've been not pregnant for 6 days. I hate it. I sort of hate everything right now. I'm not angry in any focused way, like angry at the world for my baby being dead and gone, instead I'm just generally angry. I want to hit something, start a bar fight, pull some jackass out of his car on the freeway and slam his head in the door. All this rage is built up and I have nothing to do with it. The only things that don't make me angry are my son, my husband, and my mother. And Mom has to leave today and go back home. It's going to suck without her. Thomas is very attached to his "Gamma!" and he's going to be distraught when she goes, as will I. She's been such a help and such a source of strength. Rob went back to work today, and while I am so thankful that he was able to take this time off, I miss him terribly. Tomorrow is going to be rough with just Thomas and me knocking around the house. I may take him to the zoo or something just to get out and keep my mind off of things. Hopefully it won't be as bad as I'm afraid it will be. I know I have plenty of friends I could call to distract myself or talk or whatever, but I can't seem to bear the phone right now. I can't even talk to my sister (who's going through her own mess right now). I want to call people; I pick up the phone intending to call people, but then I just can't do it. I have so many voice mail messages just sitting there waiting for me to address them and I just can't do it. I don't have the energy. I can make it through the day and play with Thomas, cook and eat, function and keep from falling apart, and that's it. I don't have anything left at the end of each day, and yet I can't rest, either. I lay awake frantically thinking about anything else, reading or doing stupid crossword puzzles, exhausted but wide awake. I'm so tired.

Frankly, I'm a mess and I'm sick of it. My own inability to concentrate is as infuriating as everything else. I'm tired of getting in the car to drive to a particular store and find myself heading for the freeway or downtown instead of where I needed to go, tired of forgetting the thing I was on my way to pick up, tired of being in the middle of doing some task around the house and suddenly realizing that I have no clue what I was up to just seconds ago.

I don't really know how to say this, and I am having a lot of trouble talking about it out loud, so I'm turning to this neglected blog to get it out. For those few of you who may read this who don't already know, I got pregnant a few months ago. I am 17 weeks and 4 days along right now, and my baby would have been due October 27th. But it's dead. Since my last appointment at 13 weeks, just after we saw that amazing first ultrasound of his or her little arms and legs wiggling and squirming, that tiny heart beating, the baby just stopped growing, stopped living. We don't know why yet. Hopefully we'll have some sort of answer soon. We don't even know if it was a boy or a girl. We'd planned on naming a boy Alexander and a girl Eve, but we'd started considering Alexandra, so we're just calling the baby Little Alex. We are going in tomorrow morning to have the D&E and I will never even see Alex. We had a barrage of ultrasounds yesterday but I never got to get a good look at my baby's face. Alex was just so small. So still.

To those of you who have sent me such kind messages, good thoughts, and prayers, I want to say thank you. It has meant more to me than I thought possible just to know that there are people out there, many who barely know me, who were thinking of us. It may be a while before I can bring myself to get back to you directly, but please know how much I appreciate your kindness.

I never, in my whole life, thought that I would ever become a decent housekeeper, but apparently I have and that's unfortunate. Right now I just really need to clean things. I have already scrubbed the bathroom, but the kitchen is already pretty squeaky clean, and there just isn't much else to be done. Maybe I'll clean the windows. Or maybe I'll just sit here for a while.

Thomas has been so amazing. He was such a good boy all day yesterday, even though he spent most of the day trapped with us in various waiting rooms, exam rooms, and triage rooms, mostly waiting for doctors and nurses. So much waiting. He was an angel and a welcome and beautiful distraction from why we were there. Rob and I are so lucky to have him.

I have so much I want to say, to get out, but I can't right now. I just need to get up, move, clean something, fold something, wait for Thomas to wake up from his nap. Rob is napping with him; we were up pretty late last night, drinking wine and watching stupid movies. I can't nap, though, I can't lay down.

Regrettable Outerwear

I'm about to share something really shocking with you. Shocking, and not a little sad. Nearly everyone has some sort of skeleton in their closet, whether it's the figurative skeleton of a past misdeed or indiscretion, the fact of a shameful family member, or maybe it's the literal skeleton of a family member hanging there behind your summer coats as a malodorous reminder of your shameful misdeeds. Whatever the case, most of us have something in our closets that we don't want exposed. Today, though, I'm going to bring mine out. My closet skeleton, the albatross of my storage space, is this:


Quake with terror at its garish patriotism! Quiver with vicarious school spirit! Squirm with laughter at the vivid moose mascot! Give in to the juvenile jokes about the P splashed across the chest! Ponder what in the hell I could possibly have lettered in in High School!

But wait, it gets even more absurd. I didn't just letter and wear that hideous thing with pride, I lettered in Drama. That's right. Drama. A letter for Drama. I'll let that sink in.

So, when I role my eyes at some amateur display on myspace and sigh and cock my head and say, "Pshh, whatever. That's weak, I lettered in drama!" you can rest assured that I am indeed for serious, yo.

Thanks to JP over at Round Is Funny for bringing this memory up for me. When I was a mere slip of a shaven headed seventeen year old girl, I took my boyfriend with me to visit my dad at Christmas. Dad was having his annual Christmas BBQ, which you can do in Northern California without freezing your giblets off. The house was filled with my step-sisters, neighbors, and dogs. Everyone had that rosy glow that comes with holiday and a few liberal glasses of yuletide spirits, well, except for the dogs who were probably only waiting until enough people were tipsy enough to start actually setting their drinks down within reach of their eager little doggie tongues to get to a state of canine pixelation. If I remember rightly, this was the first time my boyfriend had met my dad, so I'm sure he was nervous as all hell. My dad is a very jovial soul, though, and did his best to put the young man at his ease. After hugs and handshakes and the ceremonial, "Nice to meet you, and I do hope you realize that if you do anything to hurt my daughter I'm going to invite you on a one way trip to my favorite hunting spot. Anyway, sure is nice to meet you young man, can I offer you something to drink?" The boy managed to stammer out, "uh..." before shooting me a panicked look. Kindly I took over before my dad was overwhelmed by the boy's eloquence. "What have you got?" I asked.
"Well, we've got brandy, whiskey, rum, vodka, and egg nog."
Hmm, I thought, this could be a test. Better play it safe. "We'll have the egg nog."
Cups were filled, handed over, and tasted.
"Uh, Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"What's in this egg nog?"
"Brandy, whiskey, rum, and vodka!"
It was a very merry Christmas indeed. Dad Nog is now a staple 'round these parts every holiday season. Tasty, viscous, flammable. It's like toasting the baby Jesus with nutmeg flavored napalm.

Came across this picture that I nabbed from Newsweek and I had to share because it's more awesome than anything else any of us have seen all year. It is likely that it is the most awesome picture you will see this decade. Bow down.