16 weeks
Getting plumper and alittle nuttier with each passing day…
It seems impossible to believe, and even harder to accept….family.
Especially the ones you weren’t born getting used to. Even being pregnant with nieces/nephews/grandchildren doesn’t sway the stubborn hearts of some. The only satisfaction would come from the Daddy cutting and running…protective custody, once he realized I was “bad”.
The kids left behind. Seeing as they are mine, somehow not his.
I will spend a very long time recovering from this…betrayal of my human story.
For all I have been, and all I have done, I have never used the words ~ I Hate You. Perhaps as a younger child…maybe even screeched at a parent…but never since learning what it meant.
I still seek peace, but I am learning to hate them, slowly. I want to tell the rest of the family the things they have said. Forward the emails, the texts…but why? That would get in the way of the peace I still hope comes.
I used these words, strung together, and meant them ~
Epic Trailer Trash Bullshit!
My life is Beautiful.
It’s hard, being alive. Some days.
What I know for sure is I do the best I can, every day.
To love those I know and to be open to those I do not…but, some days, it’s just one big messy ball of being misunderstood and feeling lost.
Days like today I wonder who I’d have become without all I know. Maybe worrying over the small stuff wouldn’t be so sad if the heavy was a little lighter.
Even as I think those words my heart speaks the answer ~ all I am I was meant to be.
I’m tired. Or cranky…and I look at them and it makes it all worthwhile.
oh…pregnancy
I have the emotional capacity of a potato bug. I’m not sure how emotional they are, but I imagine how much emotion would fit in the body of one and imagine all my emotions trying to fit in one and exploding.
Spewing potato bug guts everywhere and that’s pretty much how I feel.
Messy.
Oh little baby, this is the safest I’ll ever be able to keep you. Nestled inside. Out here, well it’s just a mess.
I have to pee too much and my vitamins make me feel like crap. Your brothers sense weakness and are moving in like coyotes.
Circling….
Confessions of a Pregnant Lady
Why yes my Boobies are luscious!
Thank you and no, you cannot touch.
It was suggested to me yesterday that a parents grief is a choice and that they can either be sad or not sad.
Hu?
It’s in books, the writing suggests….as I tune out the voice, my own inner voice speaks up ~ they have not known loss.
It is a ridiculous notion that one can choose to not know grief. Grief is a mountain that moves within your body, slowing your limbs and changing the very rhythm of your pulse.
One of the most surprising parts of grief, for me, was how completely physical it was. My chest caved in upon itself and my very breath was shallow and painful. An immovable lump in my throat, hot aches in my shoulders. Everything was numb and on fire simultaneously.
I am far enough from my loss that I do not need to strike the ignorant down. What I did say is that unless you have lost a child it is not your place to judge, have opinion or speak to the matter. It is the unimaginable.
It made me sad. Sad to imagine that a mama or dad could think they “shouldn’t” be sad…or rather that if they just looked at it the “right” way they wouldn’t be. We all come to our own place with the loss of our children. That is up to us. Not anyone else and certainly not someone who has not walked our path.
Poor Daddy
My little son is sinking up with me.
Now that I’m not getting my period I’m free to have hormonal lapses in judgement any day of the week, in any order. Not unlike a two year old…or a tween, a teen, a woman or a crotchety old man.
YAY for me.
So proud am I that we are in-tune enough to synch up and destroy any sense of peace the Daddy may have been fortunate enough to wake up with.
Go Team Crazy!
Truth ~ 9+ weeks
The baby, on ultrasound, looks like a gummy bear.
A beautiful little gummy bear.
