hi there

Hello there.
It’s been a while since I checked in so I just wanted to let you all know I’m still around and planning to dust off my very dusty writing fingers soon.

In the meantime, thank you for the messages of support I have continued to receive in my almost full year of silence.  I’ll be back with a full blog probably in the next week or so.

Happy New Year~

MG

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april showers

Last night I had a dream about a baby seal.

I don’t know where it came from, but I had this baby seal and I loved him so much.  He wanted to be in water though,  so I put him in the sink to play.  He  splashed around and was very happy, but the sink was too small so I moved him to the bathtub.  He splashed and splashed even more happily in the bathtub.  He was so happy and healthy in there that he grew quickly while he played, and then the bathtub was too small.  I moved him into a hot tub (fortunately I seem to have a hot tub in dreamland).  The same thing happened:  he loved it in there, so he splashed and swam around and grew.   I figured out that this was going to keep happening and I would need to find something that would work permanently.   In the meantime I had to let someone put him in an animal carrier for some reason until I found a suitable body of water.

Across the road from our house (in real life and in my dream) there is a large pond.  In my dream the ducks that live over there had babies, the water was clear, and the whole area was lovely and sparkling with life.   I knew this would be the perfect place for my baby seal to live.
I was excited that everything was working out so perfectly.  This was a great dream.
Then I opened the carrier to let him out and he was dead.   Someone had wrapped him tightly in plastic wrap from head to flippers like a mummy, and he couldn’t breathe.   I frantically unwrapped his lifeless body and tried to revive him by splashing water on him and trying to make him swim and dance again.

I woke up screaming.

—-

Last week was the baby’s due date.
Last week, our beloved cat  died suddenly.  He was put to sleep while I held him in my arms.
Oh, and the round IUI /injectables cycle we tried?   Failed.   Found that out last week , too.   And I have cysts now so we can’t try it again this month.

People ask me on a fairly regular basis lately if I’m “better yet”.
An obnoxious thing to ask a person who’s grieving by the way, but I understand people’s borderline impatient need to know you’re not suffering.
I recently went to the grocery store and ran into a girl I used to work with.   She was excited to see me and said the dreaded words “How ARE you?” with a big expectant smile.  I was in a funk that day so I conjured up a crooked smile and just shrugged.  She made a confused face at me and said  ”I’m sure you’re a lot better now, right?”   I cried on the spot.

Sometimes  I am “better”, I guess.   There are neutral spaces I can go to in my brain to do things like get through a day of work and laugh at things, and I think it’s pretty amazing that I even have those neutral spaces at all.   That counts as a newfound strength.  So some days I think  ”Sure, I am doing better!”

And then other times I dream about baby animals and wake up screaming.

April Fools.

square one

Hello all.

It’s been a while.  I haven’t really had anything to say, so I haven’t said anything.
When I’m hurting  I don’t want to share because it’s too painful,  and when I’m not hurting I don’t want to share because I just don’t want to think about it directly for  a while.   That, and/or I get so exhausted lately between working all day and not really sleeping very well at night that  I just haven’t had the energy to write when I want to.

There is a bit of news, however.  We went back to the fertility clinic,  and this past month I did an IUI with injectables cycle.  Lots of stabbing myself in the leg at night and then getting prodded with the ultrasound wand in the morning.
Now The Wait has begun.  Interesting/ironic thing is that the day I am scheduled to go in for the blood test to see if it worked is the day my son was due.
I know it’s unhealthy to do the obsessing over possible dates thing, but it’s fully impossible not to this time.  I did that every month for three years before this last pregnancy finally happened:
If it happens THIS month then I’ll be due on Husband’s birthday! It’s a sign!
If it happens THIS month, then I’ll be due on my mother’s birthday! It’s a sign!
If it happens THIS month then I’ll be due on Easter! It’s a sign!

The last one was due on Easter, but he was stillborn in mid-December.  And now it will be Easter when I find out if the next one is on it’s way, and mid-December is when it would be due.

But still I tell myself  I’m not getting my hopes up  (I am totally getting my hopes up), and that the dates and timing mean nothing to me (those dates mean everything to me).

I released two eggs,  and Husband -who doesn’t fully understand how the whole thing works no matter how many times I explain it-  is acting like that means I’m already pregnant with twins.   Talk about counting your eggs before they hatch.  I don’t let on, but it’s annoying the crap out of me how fucking “hopeful” he’s being.   When we leave the doctor’s office he’s an overly perky cheerleader/coach, saying with a big goofy grin how I should be excited we’re doing this.   This is his way of trying to negate the cranky “my crotch hurts” look I usually have on my face at this time.  “Okay, let me spread YOUR genitals open with a speculum for a little while, Dear, while you look at a blank ultrasound screen where your wiggly little boy used to be… and then I’ll just send you right back to work while you’re still sore from the spreader and goofed up on hormone shots.  That does sound ‘exciting’, doesn’t it?”    Yeah, I can be kind of a bitch these days…

Seeing as how April 9 will be an intensely difficult day for me already, it may have been a bad idea to pile on such heavy and expensive expectations onto the whole thing.   But I needed to be doing something.   It has been unbelievably stressful, but not trying this hard would have made me crazy(er).  The shots and the doctor’s visits and the blood draws (and even the cluelessly hopeful Husband) have been a welcome distraction and a painful reminder at the same time.  I get to feel like I’m actively working toward the next pregnancy, but every time I see that empty ultrasound screen I remember why I have to work so anxiously hard in the first place.

Meanwhile, I have been mostly stable.  The major breakdowns are down to about one every 3 weeks.  Those are the ones where I get sick of everybody asking me if I’m all better now and I want to run screaming through a brick wall.  Then I sleep it off,  pull myself together, and go about my week being as “positive” as possible.

I really do feel “better” most of the time… I just hate it when people ask me if I do.

Happy Spring, everyone.  And thank you all so much for the encouragement, kind words, and prayers.

valentine

earthquakes change the landscape permanently.   they devastate, destroy,  and cause complete change.  things are never the same after an earthquake.  it wouldn’t make sense to wait for that part of the earth to go back to what it was before… to “get better”.   it’s different.  everything is different.  the way it fits in and relates to the rest of the world around it is different.  meanwhile the rest of the world carries on at it’s usual  pace, spinning and moving and growing as it should.   and that broken, shaken bit of the landscape can’t keep up for a while,  as it figures out what it has become.  maybe this giant crack in the ground will become a lovely river full of life one day, but for now it’s just…different.  violence from underground brings chaos to the surface, and causes the terrain to be lost in its own unfamiliar self.

there are theories that tell me that somewhere out there in the multiverse,  my personal earthquake never happened.  somewhere…somewhere out there,  i let myself believe,  my son was born alive and well.   it’s my way of believing in heaven,  i guess.  heaven by way of quantum physics:  somewhere beyond all the stars we will ever know,  he lives and dances and my heart is in tact.

—-

it’s been two months.  not very long at all.  it still hurts all the time, i just don’t show it all the time.   it makes people uncomfortable, of course, and i just don’t want it to always suck to be around me.   i can manage it sometimes.   it changes shape sometimes.  sometimes it sleeps for a while, but it’s right here with me like a pet dragon i’m trying to tame.

i got this little heart shaped box yesterday~

happy valentine’s day, my love.

hymn for him

my life
my other heart
my beloved
my most important creation
my transformation
my closest relation
my evolution
my progression and  reflection
my expression of perfection
made out of all i had
i honor you with all that remains

you were my body and my future
you were wings
stretching from inside me
you were promise of life and flight
you were living, dancing Light.
you were mine
you were me.
not just part of me
but the best of me
all my life and energy
all my love.
all my love.
i’m told that i should just erase you
and the void will go away
and it’s simple to replace you
this is natural, they say
no one wants to hear about you
or the way it feels without you
but there has never been a more fierce love or bond

and now you’re gone

you were everything i wanted
now i’m empty, bleeding, haunted
but the whole world’s waiting for me to move on
and so
in my imagination
i release my great creation
to the stars
       to the stars
              to the stars

but i will never love another quite like this
i am your mother,  you’re my wish
that very nearly did come true
and always, darling,
I Love You.

the view from here

How am I feeling?  Well,  you know when you’re on a plane and you go through a big storm cloud and reality gets fogged away and there’s nothing for your eyes to lock onto so you don’t have any real concept of where you are in space and time and then the plane starts shaking enough to make you regret ever getting on that damn flight so you hold your breath and try to remember exactly how planes work cuz the one you’re on doesn’t feel like it’s working very well at all?   Yeah, that’s how I’m feeling.

I am very anxious to just land this thing so I can thank the pilot, kiss the ground, and exhale,  but I hear this is kind of a long flight.  Sometimes it levels out,  and sometimes I can ignore the turbulence for a while.   But sometimes … you know how  there’s that moment during bad turbulence where you feel the plane kind of drop a little and everybody gets quiet?  Yeah, that.

One might offer that this is a good time to have faith.  Faith is what gets people through moments like those.  Faith and the knowledge that the great majority of the time,  planes land safely… even in storms.  I might offer that the most faithful among you will still crap your pants a little when you’re on a plane and you see flashes of lightning out your cloudy window and you feel that fucking drop… especially if you have gone down in a crash before.

The plane is okay in reality.  There are forces and physics at work which are beyond my comprehension and flying is after all the safest way to travel.   I will land safely, and  I will fly again.    But right now, this flight sucks and I wanna go home.    That is all.

brainholes

I think I’m handling things as well as can be expected, but probably not as well as I publicly let on.   Fake it til you make it, right?  Sometimes I let myself forget… and then sometimes I forget to forget.  That’s when people ask me things like “What’s wrong?” and remind me that  I need to “Stay positive!”  It’s very important for the people around me to know I’m getting “better”, and surely I am… so as much as I can,  I show my “better” face.   This is a lot of work,  but I imagine it’s also a lot of work for others to deal with my grief all the time, so I try not to crack til I get time alone.  I haven’t had much of that yet… and unfortunately a crucial part of the whole “closure” process has been drawn out for a cruel amount of time….

Did you know that it can take up to 3 weeks for the paperwork to be filed so a cremation can even take place?  No– I hope you never need to know that directly,  because every part of it sucks evil ass.  My brain and heart are exhausted and confused by the whole ordeal,  and that tired confusion actually facilitates periods of  peace.   Well, not necessarily peace as much as low-grade alzheimer’s.   It seems that when you can’t figure something out, eventually you just stop thinking about it and that part of your brain shuts off completely.    This leaves big gaps in my reality,  so I space out a lot.   I call them brainholes, and they are pretty easy to fall into.  Sometimes brainholes can be dark and scary,  but mostly they are just safe, cozy voids.  I stare off into nothing and try to remember what exactly the took place in the last 3 weeks or even 6 months of my life.  I’ve noticed that sometimes I don’t recognize things like streets I drive down every other day.   People talk to me and I just smile, nod and chuckle, hoping that works okay as a response to whatever they just said.  I used to do that when I was bartending and I couldn’t hear what people were saying to me over the loud music.  Now I do it whenever people ask questions that seem too complicated to answer,  like “How are you?”

This morning we went to pick up the ashes.  It’s a fucked up and bizarre way to spend your morning, and I was still groggy from a night of fucked up and confusing dreams,  so I didn’t have the energy or clarity to fall apart like I expected myself to.  The director of the funeral home placed a dark blue velvet bag in front of us on the table next to some more paperwork to sign, and all I felt was blank…with maybe a side of irritation.  The lights in that place were obnoxiously fluorescent in a way that always puts me in a funky mood, so I decided that was why I was angry.  Stupid fucking lights.   I stayed mad about the lighting in that stupid funeral home… and the woman who greeted us had hair that kind of pissed me off too.  While we waited for her to return to our waiting room with a tiny bag of ashes,   I noticed that next to me on the wall there was a photograph of the three owners who the place was named after… I hated that stupid fucking photo so so so very much.   But when we were causally presented with the little blue bag,  all I felt was blank.  Floating safely in and out of my brainholes,  I felt no attachment to that blue velvet bag.   I didn’t feel my heart break all over again as I cradled it delicately in my lap on the car ride home.  It may have happened, but I didn’t feel it.  I even didn’t notice right away that I was reflexively caressing it gently and rocking slightly, as I glared hatefully at  the rain through the car window.  Stupid fucking rain.  Wait, what street is this?  I’ve never seen this street before….

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