Feeling a little more human… I think… sometimes.   At least the spaces between meltdowns are starting to grow.  When the call comes to go pick up his ashes, I’m sure this cycle will start again… but for now there is a lingering numbness.  Something like calm.  I hear myself laughing from time to time and it sounds like it’s coming from somewhere else… but at least it’s coming.

Of course, the night before last I had a dream that I was back in the hospital about to have labor induced again.  This time though, my blood was being drawn out through big thick needles and pumped into dozens of glass baby bottles.  I wanted to get away, but naturally I couldn’t move.

I didn’t sleep much more after that dream.

And apparently I am at the phase of depression where I need to write cheesy poetry like a 16 year old goth chick.  It’s a step, i guess…


Red wine and tears and sleeping pills and games my mind is playing

Conversations with constellations: similar to praying.

And now the sun is far away, and so the world is colder,

“Have faith, the sun will rise again” they say as I get older.

I had a second beating heart, he took so long to find me

He came from space and left a space to constantly remind me

Now in the vacuum  of the void my mind is pulled apart.

Stumbling without the rhythm of my second beating heart.

Holy infant so tender and mild, Sleep in heavenly peace.



in order to fully experience the depths of hell  you have to first be lifted high up into heaven.  you need to get a good long taste of bliss,  get it deep enough in your system that it becomes part of you.  maybe it even comes to life inside you.  you need to get familiar with it… get used to it… learn to love it with all your heart and soul.

the trip to hell begins not with a fall but a gradual ascent.  like a comfortable plane ride.  first class seats, even.  you’ve earned the trip to wherever it is you think you’re going, but hell comes when the plane doesn’t make it.  you get your hopes way up, you make happy plans,  you believe strongly enough in something that you plant your soul in it… and then the crash happens.

hell is the crash itself, and the suffering you endure after the crash.  the crippling debilitating pain.  everybody tells you to move on,  and of course you want to move on,  but you can’t move at all.  your moving parts have been crushed.  you’re clearly being punished but you have no idea what you did wrong.

it was supposed to just be a quick trip to the doctor’s office. i had plans to go see a movie afterward with a new friend.  it’s been a while since i made a new friend, and i was looking very much forward to it.  but something had been bugging me and i needed to be told i was wrong.  so many things about pregnancy had spooked me into needless paranoia, and i needed to be told that this was another of those things.

he had been making himself known lately, thumping and dancing around in there as he grew. even husband was starting to feel him. we saw him wiggling and kicking around on an ultrasound screen.  we saw his face and fell in love.  “it’s a boy” we were told.  we had a son.  we talked about him, laughed about him. we beamed at each other with pride over him.  we made plans for him.  he was real, and we loved him.  after all the surgeries and doubt and trying and trying…  after all the doctors and treatments and waiting and waiting… after all the migraines and sickness and anxiety and discomfort,  after being told that pregnancy was something i would never be able to achieve at all… there was a new little person i had created dancing around in my womb.  an amazing, miraculous reward for all we had been through just to find this little creature.   and he really liked to dance.

so when he didn’t do it as much, i got worried.  i was told not to worry,  that i was at a stage where he had shifted position and i just couldn’t feel his little feet anymore.  i googled and read and asked around, and everybody- including my nurse- told me not to worry like they had so many times before.   “it’s normal” , “everything’s fine”, “stop worrying so much”… but that eerie lack of dancing was starting to make me cry myself to sleep at night.

still, it was supposed to just be a quick trip to the doctor’s office. they’d put the microphone thingy on my belly,  i’d hear the beautiful sound of my son’s heartbeat and be able to breathe a sigh of relief and go about my day… and my life.  the nurse would quietly judge me for wasting everybody’s time and i’d go see a movie and eat some nachos.

two nurses and a two doctors used three different machines to try to find that heartbeat.

*sigh*  “I’m so sorry….”

and with that the plane crashed… taking my heart and soul down with it.

everything that has followed has been torture.  i was immediately checked into a hospital and stuck full of tubes and needles, including one in my spine.  i had to “deliver”… so i was sent to the labor and delivery ward with everyone else, where i could hear through the walls the sounds of new lives beginning and proud papas being congratulated in the hallways.  i was paralyzed from the waist down. immobilized in my torture chamber listening to happy birthdays all around me while i writhed in discomfort and fear with a belly full of death.  Hell.

you know what was surprising? hell isn’t a dark place.  it’s very clean and brightly lit so you can see everything that’s happening to you.  a big flourescent spotlight made sure i didn’t miss the sight of my tiny dead son being moved away from my body.  i only caught a glimpse before the absolute horror of the sight blinded me with heartbreak and pain more intense than i ever thought was possible.  Hell.  i screamed like i’ve never heard anyone scream.   i cried and convulsed and wailed , overcome with helpless hysteria.  i wanted out of there.  i wanted to kick the doctor away.  i wanted to run and run… but i was immobile.  my legs were too heavy to move due to the tube they had fed into my spine.  Hell.  deeper and deeper into Hell.

i’ve been home from the hospital for a few days now, and every cell in my body strives to remind me of What Is Missing.  painfully, physically, and with every fiber and cell of my being,  I Want My Baby.  the need breaks me down on a regular basis and i find myself involuntarily screaming those words while choking on sobs that i had no idea were coming.  exhaustion is the only thing that brings relief from the crying.  i weep inconsolably until i’m out of gas until the next storm comes…. Hell.

that is where i am.  people tell me how brave i am, but i don’t buy it.  i am pure chickenshit right now:  a blubbering trainwreck mess with no recollection of ever being strong or brave… or anywhere but Hell.

i keep hearing that “it’s going to be okay…” but what is “going to be” doesn’t feel like it matter much when your soul is on fire right now.

long time no see

it’s been a while.

i was sick for a while, and then i was busy for a while, and then i was just conflicted about how to share my pregnancy story with people who might be sick of the “success” of others.  i felt like i went onto that list that we infertiles have of “everybody else but me” who was getting knocked up.  i felt outside of “the club”.  i had already been scolded once on a facebook page for posting a funny video with a baby in it on  a page about LAUGHING at infertility… i was told it was horribly insensitive of me, and this is before i was pregnant–

also i just didn’t have as much to say about being pregnant, because it was all so new to me.  infertility i had dealt with for a long time– pregnancy was all new terrain that shocked and amazed and confused me with every step.  i didn’t know how to translate that into the blogosphere.

i could go on with my list of excuses as to why i stopped writing, but none of it matters now.   i wish i had never stopped.  i wish i would have been recording the good parts…

have you picked up that i’m referring to my pregnancy in the past tense?

everything was going great. i was feeling stronger,  the little boy inside me was growing bigger and stronger.  i could feel him dancing and flipping around inside me for a while… and then i couldn’t anymore.  every little thing with the pregnancy made me paranoid and scared, and this was supposed to go on that list.  i scheduled a doctor visit, just to reassure myself that i was being silly and everything was fine.  i had just seen him in detail about 2 weeks ago via ultrasound… but this time,  the sweet sound of his heartbeat was gone. “no activity” she told me after a heavy sigh…

they booked me immediately into the hospital across the street to induce labor so i could deliver … the cord was wrapped arounf his neck 5 times.  a rare and random accident that couldn’t have been prevented or helped, i was told… which means theres nothing to blame…which means i fall aprt and end up blaming myself.

this was all 2 days ago.  i got home from the hospital last night and have been in bed having spontaneous breakdowns all day.  i have never wailed and cried and screamed so hard or so much.  this is Hell.

i was almost at 6 months. people have been rooting for us and excited with us.  we already have a couple boxes worth of gifts and of course stacks of baby books and magazines all over the house.

now i feel like we have broken a hundred hearts with The Bad News… just in time for the holidays.

so… that is where i’ve been, and where i am.

sorry to come back with such ugliness–

but this is the beginning of another journey, right?


i’m going back to sleep now… red wine and motrin pm will see to that.