Hope

We could all use a little bit of hope, and I thought this picture was beautiful.
Of course, I think she should be pg, or have a child in her arms, but the musical instrument is symbolic of that. The hope of creating something so beautifule you close your eyes and feel like you're on top of the world.

Simone knows too much

No, I'm not talking about life and death, I'm talking about sex. So I told you all how one day in the car, with the utmoust sincerity and very resolutely, Simone said that NEXT time, she wants to see us MAKE the baby. This kid's seen it all when it comes to carrying and birthing babies, so it was only a natural request. Well, B and I got a good laugh and told her we didn't think so; luckily that's the last we've heard of that one.

NOW, Holly Disco (our Christmas kitty that we've been so thankful for) is in . . . heat. I don't know how it happened, not even technically. I don't mind admitting I know very little about a cat's reproductive system. Disco's still so little! She's my little kitten, damnit. I've never had a cat that has gone into heat.

Anyway, So I was clueless when I heard her meowing at 7am yesterday morning. This cat doesn't say much (B's never heard her meow) I thought she was trapped somewhere. When I actually got up (930ish, hehe) I went looking for her to make sure she wasn't locked in a room somewhere. She was just chillin' under the table by then, so I wondered why she was meowing but, oh well.

Then last night, I noticed her ass up in the air. Her tail is off to the side and she's purring at everybody's feet. And when I say everybody, I mean both the dogs who are just trying to nap, poor things. Usually, she's way too cool for the dogs (as all cats are), she has certainly never layed down beside them and in front of them purring and putting her ass in their face. So it dawned on me. Shit. She was supposed to get fixed last week and we forgot, we would've done it just in time, too. She has an appt. this next Monday, but Monday is a long ways a way.
So I wondered how this topic would be broached with Simone and I decided, as most parents do about most things, avoid the subject at all cost. I managed okay, Simone seemed oblivious most of the evening. At bed time, Simone was coloring on the bed (and jumping on it, and being crazysleepyrotten) I walk in to suddenly find her with kitty on the bed and kitty's purring and Simone is so excited that kitty is giving her so much attention.

Simone: Mommy, kitty's acting funny. (she's says quizzically and with a giggle.)

Me: I know, now get her off my bed. (I say very authoritatively)

Simone: Why Mom? she likes me. (she says sadly)

Usually Disco runs from Simone if she hasn't already been trapped by the death grip. And she's was just petting her back and Holly was purring away.

Me: I know honey (I say sympathetically). Now, get her off MY bed.
Ugh, the phone rings. As I'm on the phone, I watch her pet kitty, and I'm unnerved by the fact this cat is standing on my bed. Just as I get off the phone she grabbed kitty's tail (kitty immediately raises her ass straight in the air) and then Simone laughs and tickles Disco's ass with the end of her own tail, to kitty's obvious delight. Simone thought it was hilarious (and it kind of was in a really disturbing way because I've never seen a cat act that way either) but I took action, I wanted that cat away from my daughter and off my goddamn bed.

I shoo the cat off (basically yell at her in a gruff voice and clap my hands). And of course, yay, Simone and I get another opportunity to talk about boys and girls and pee-pee's and how girls carry and feed babies, etc., etc. And then I break it to her, Disco is growing up and she wants to make babies and that's why we're getting her 'fixed'.

She was so excited, her eyes lit up, "oh please please please please please can we let her have babies, Mommy?! Please." So I start describing dog and cat overpopulation ad nauseam, and she knows all about rescuing animals and finding homes for them. She seems to understand, and she laughs it up and when I tell her if Sam and Nanna*, weren't fixed, they'd have had lots of babies by now. She giggles with glee and talks about how cute they'd be, and at the thought of all those puppies. It's like 4 yo heaven.

Anyway, it was the kind of conversation I was not expecting yesterday, or to have with my four year old. I'm okay with her knowing lots about babies development and the birthing part, but when it comes to making babies, I don't want my kid being the only kid in her Kindergarten class next year who knows how babies are made.

I was long-winded and boring enough to get around it this time, once again. Close call, big sigh of relief. Suddenly, at the end of our conversation, she says, very matter of factly, "Well, if Disco wants to, even after she is fixed, she CAN get married and NOT have any babies. Isn't that right, Mama?"

I smile and say, "Yes, that's right." She looks very happy about that. My little feminist.

*Nanna is our nickname for Elli Mae as Ellie brings us about a dozen of Simone's toys and things a day when she wants attention, like she's cleaning up after her. Simone get's pissed at Ellie about this (probably because if no one takes these items from her she chews them all to shit) so I thought if I called her Nanna, like on Petar Pan, she might not hate Ellie so much. It's kind of working too by the way

I am literally beating myself up.

I've had a lot of self loathing issues, just no reason to care any more. You go from this place in pg where you are all about health and peace, vitamins, and minerals, and I was on bedrest for so long. And I do get resentful at the end of pg's, just so much self-sacrifice. I'm a selfish person, I feel like an ungrateful person. I feel so much guilt over that resentment and loss of autonomy at the end but I was waiting for my savior, my Myles, to rescue me. He was the light at the end of such a long tunnel.

And so now, I've mentioned I've gone from health nut to a depressed, anxious, PTSD, burgeoning alcoholic. The other night I got drunk (DD was sleeping but DH who doesn't drink so witnessed it all). I fell at some point (okay DH says on more than one occassion) and I woke up with bruises all over and of course, deep in the pit, not just over myles but with the shame and embarrassment that accompanies abusing alcohol. I'm 27 for godsake, I know better.

Today I was so mad at myself when I realized I missed my dearest friends b-day on Thursday (her 10th b-day, this sweet girl who is like my daughter who moved to NV two and a half years ago to my families heartache). I was just so freaking mad that my mind can't remember the simplest freaking things anymore. So, out of complete disgust with myself I just threw on some clothes and went outside and did yard work. And it was frantic, non-stop two hours, pulling up these perennials I hate (mud up to my wrists), cutting down these prickly bushes I've always hated, removing this huge branch from this ice storm from a winter storm, now I'm covered not just in bruises but in scratches (stupid me, I was wearing shorts and a tank top).

And in the background, and why I started this post, I haven't shared too much but I didn't get my period for 18 weeks (after I lost Myles). I was SO excited to get AF after 18 weeks. I waited and waited and we tested and tested (HSG's, genetic, hormonal, etc. looking at laproscopy) and I finally got it and here I am midcycle and I'M SPOTTING.

I have never spotted between periods, never had implantation spotting from two (pg's l/c DD, and DS Myles). Never, in 14 years of normal AF, half those years (seven) I was not on any contraception (either I was not sexually active) or my DH and I used natural family planning for the four years between Simone and Myles, and now I'm spotting? Seriously, maybe I don't have the most 'regular' periods (ranging between 29-31 days, so it's not always clockwork) but I know when I ovulate dammit. And here I am, day 15 thru 18 of my cycle and I've spotted EVERY DAY. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

AM I DEFICIENT?????

I just want to be pg so bad. No, let me rephrase that. I just want a BABY, sooo bad. The pg I could go without. Just a sweet warm baby to nurse, and hold sleeping on my chest, and to see smile, and teeth, and yes night awakenings, and stress, I WANT IT ALL. and I know I have to deal with all of my 'issues' which I am with professionals, but come on!

And when I go out and try to do the old stress relieving things (GARDENING), they send me into panic attacks. 6 weeks after I lost Myles I went to the gym, and after 45 minutes I left there, shaking, and angry, and with Myles all over my brain. And here I am, finally cleaned up from backbreaking labor in the yard, sobbing about another MISSters dog, and I'm shaking, and frantic looking up everything there is about spotting.

I'm sorry this is such a long rant. I JUST WANT A BABY SO BAD. SO BAD. I LOVE BABIES SO MUCH. But I know I'm in no shape (mentally or physically) and it hurts. But at least, AT LEAST, my body could go back to normal so that I know that when we're ready, WE CAN TTC. This uncertainty is driving me bonkers.

'Visiting' Myles III

So tonight I bought two of those tiny little alcohol bottles, drank them and went to Myles grave. The only person I've told this is my Mom, but I've thought multiple times of just digging him up and holding him one more time. My mom is so great, she said she felt the same when her Dad died. I got him some beautiful windchimes and decided to go get so different colored floweres because these blue roses have been there since we buried him (so I don't want to change them) but . . . blue roses? What looks more fake than blue roses? There is no such thing.

I sat there this time and talked. I talked to him like he could hear me. What am I doing? I don't think he can here me, is it just an attempt to find closure in our social by verbalizing what I would say to him if I could?

It felt good. I'm not sure if it was the drinking or just the babbling like when I'm typing. Next time I should bring my laptop. I did a pg journal for Simone but my myspace blog seemed to do just that for Myles. But it wasn't in the first person, you know? It was all about me, and how excited we were, or how tired I was, or whatever blissfully pregnant women rant and rave about (good and bad).

With Simone, it was to her. It's about 20 pages. And I just told her things like I was talking to her, not an adult. I even joked one time that Myles' diary was my blog but I couldn't let him read it until he was older because I cussed too much. In Simone's I just tell her like I am talking to a child. And I suppose, when I talked to 'Myles' today, telling him all the things that excited me about him and our future together. How I knew he would be a challenge, but I thought in the stubborn toddler in a restaurant or rebellious teen challenge. NOT A CHALLENGE LIKE THIS.

I read a quote the other day that grief is the price of love. And that made me scared to love. I know we've discussed it before, but, to me (IMNSHO) love is what makes the world go round, not money. To pay such a cruel price? Could I wish my daughter weren't here, just so I never have to go through the pain of losing her? No. So it's worth it. But I've never paid this price, I love my son so much, so much. And this intense grief I feel this moment is a testament to that, but oh, what a burden. Life is beautiful and cruel.

'Visiting' Myles II

Why do we come to grave sites, us atheists? I don't know why people who believe our loved ones are 'watching over us, can here or see, send us signs'. I can't put myself in that persons shoes, the thought of it bothers me on multiple levels. All I can do is ask myself why do I go to grave sites, and honestly I've never had one to visit. I've always visited cemeteries, actually loved old cemeteries.

Even when I was a believer I used to visit cemeteries. As a child I visited my grandfathers grave, haven't for a long time, but I never knew him. Still, I used to cry, and would tomorrow for the pain it causes my mom to be without her father for almost 30 years.

As a preteens, we visited them when we were causing trouble. I'd lay down, imagining myself the whole time as completely parallel to the lifeless body beneath me. Silly. Of course I still believed back then, and we used to believe that maybe something could happen, and we were scared. Scared of the supernatural. A feeling I haven't had for a long time.

As and adult, my sister and I, and even Simone and I once when I was pregnant with Myles, would walk along, read the names and ages and imagine the families and the tragedies of their lives. I especially like historic cemeteries, I live about 7 or 8 blocks from one and it is filled with so much history. That's where I ultimately decided to bury him.

My parents suggested my home town. My DH has always been adamant about that the fact that he wanted to be cremated, and I always wanted be buried in this obscure cemetery in sand hills where my great, great, great, and great grandparents have been buried, my grandma and grandpa too, my dad probably too. It's peaceful in the sand hills, standing in an ocean of grass, not a things in sight.

Yesterday I went to visit Myles. At first I think I did it for Simone. One day it had snowed and I couldn't find it, and I found him and with my bare fingers red from the freezing snow, I would clean off and clear off and manage his grave. Take care of 'him'. I don't believe he knows I'm there. I don't think 'he' is there. His body is buried there.

Why do I go there, for peace. To get away, and cry, and think about Myles and 'care' for my son, still so motherly. I like bringing things there, making it looked beautiful and cared for. So everyone who might see would know he would've been cared for tenderly had he lived. And tenderly I sit there, and cry, and I'm around these old trees, and whatever weather whithers that day.

It's nice to escape there. I don't like to go with other people. I will. I just don't 'get' anything out of it. Which is interesting to think about as what do I 'get' when I do go there? I'llm

Alcohol

4/16/04
Alcohol
I'm an alcoholic. Am I an alcoholic? How did it begin? With two drinks every night for the first month. Simone and I packed our days full of things that I didn't get to do with her when I was on bed rest. And I felt she had been SO cheated. And we went here and walked there, anywhere you could think of we went. And I said 'screw school work' I did what my 6 hour assistantship required of me, and that was it. And that's how it was for a month or two, some really bad days, but really good days (roller skating, bowling) too. I was so bitter on bed rest. Outward appearance, rosy, inward feeling, irritation, impatience, bitter at DH for not picking up more slack, for his excuses. I felt like, as if I wasn't put out enough by this whole thing, that he couldn't handle it without my mom and his mom up here for 6 weeks.

So when Myles died, I was in shock, and I started using alcohol right away. Haven't drank much since DD was born, you can't when you're pg, limited with bf, but I've never been an alcoholic. In those early days I was catatonic, I didn't want to leave my house sometimes. But getting over those hurdles, seemingly meaningless but like mountains for me; going to Simone's preschool, taking her to dance, going to my school, and it was stressful and exhausting. I was a bitch everyday when I got home.

Anyway, the one thing I looked forward to was alcohol. A drink while making dinner, in my own world, listening to political podcasts on my ipod. Not thinking, just mindless stuff, doing the dishes. Sometimes a friend would call and SURPRISE I was in the mood to talk, even make jokes and in the darkest hours pour out my soul and cry like I never would sober.

The hardest I've cried to anybody is when I've been drunk. And because I put off talking about Myles at the hospital (except for the pragmatic stuff, my sister and I are like Navy Seals in crisis mode when something happens. We take charge (weddings, funerals, any emergency (she's an ER nurse)). And in the hospital after talking to Myles, I kept it on the light side. I don't think I cried in front of anybody. Certainly not on purpose, they'd catch me crying all those wonderful nurses.

I have this ability to shut my brain off. It's my bodies way of compensating for the information/emotion overload. In the hospital, my mother was out of her mind with grief, and I didn't want any of it. I was sad. I was quiet I was contemplative. I was on really good drugs. And then everyone left. I smoked a cigarette the second we dropped Simone off at her friends house we could go make funeral arrangements. Even there, I didn't know what was expected of me and my DH had NO opinion. My family did, they had lots of suggestions where he could be buried, but I wanted him close. He is only a few blocks away in Wyuka, I could walk there at Midnight and sit and cry. I'm glad I chose burial, the cemetary has been a peaceful place to me.
And that's where the complexity comes in I guess.

Because the drinking to become intoxicated happened on a 'bad day' catatonic left the house, bought one of those 2dollar little alcohol bottles and some Whiskey (I usually drink mixed drinks). I went to the cemetary. Drank that little bottle down, and went and sat in front of his grave where I always sit.

I've got dirty knees from it today even actually, they had just put his sod down an it was a muddy mess. My chistmas card is gone that I wrote him. I will miss that. I liked the outside, “Peace, Miracles, Hopes, Dreams, Love” and of course all the holiday rubbish and merry Christmas son.

After that day I started to drink to get drunk. I started thinking that drinking all that pop wasn't good so I would just have a shot of whiskey or my new favorite drink that I found at the liquor store that day, black cherry rum. And I think that is where the numbing came in. These last few weeks, I have been probably legally drunk at midnight. But I'm happy, bopping around, doing laundry, cleaning the house, thinking of things to do to the house. Everyone's asleep and I get my own time. Before the wee hours, when I've had a couple shots and B or Simone come to help clean up or make dinner, I'm goofy, we play, I'm more relaxed.

Then the hangovers began. The long nights of insomnia, my refusal to take alprazolam if I'd been drinking. The culmination of it all was two nights ago. B worked late, Simone and I went to the park at 4ish, and I picked up some of that rum at the time. We played at the park, she road her bike, got some takeout, we went home, and went on to finish the bottle of rum by midnight. I don't remember anything. I have bruises on my knees I feel like I'm 19 again. Brandon was home and witness, Simone was asleep early that night luckily. I spent most of the time bawling to my Dad and Best friend (Allyson's mom from Las Vegas) about how disappointed I was in them. Or, not that, but I finally told them what I needed from them. What sucks is I don't even remember now. So they were monumental conversations that I have virtually no recollections of.

So. I'm not drinking anymore. Just decided to quit. I”m humiliated and back to the self deprecation. I had a good day today at first, but anxiey-ed out by late afternoon and went to see Myles and put up some new decorations, butterfly wind chimes (muddy knees). And now here I am crying. I came home, made dinner, worked in the yard, and I feel like I'm on edge. I feel the TMJ in my jaw. I feel the pit in my stomach. I feel disinterested in everything. And do you know what I want? A beer. I have eaten nothing today. I've drank two diet cokes, and sip of sprite ( a few calories). I'm not hungry. At least drinking made me hungry when it was all said and done (at midnight).

This is it, as honest as it gets.

I liked this poem

I can never find anything that doesn't include god or religion. Here is a nice poem that really spoke to me:

My Son, My Son
These days feel like the winter of my soul. But Spring comes and brings new life, and even beauty. All because of the growth of the roots in the darkness. ~ Iris Boulton

Where am I?

I know, I haven't rambled for awhile. Always take that as a good sign. No news is good news, so I'm usually doing my job and working on research which I now feel very rejuvenated about. To be honest, I don't know where I'm going, and I can't explain where I'be been the last few weeks. I am happy to report that my health looks good, no more worries as I alluded to my last significant blog. It's a big load off my shoulders. but also brings more questions. So as everything in this world it brings assurances but more uncertainties.

Simone is growing up, and she loves it, while I"m tepid. I am excited for her and try not to feel too unahppy with her growing up and her recent advancements. She can now make her own food (cereal, popcorn, yogurt, choc. milk), she's so indepedent. It seems like yesterday she was this tiny toddler.It makes me sad in a way, but proud too.

I've had so much on my mind lately I forget what's happening around me. I'm baffled by the fact it's April. Anytime it occurrs to me, I'm like 'wtf?'. Is it even 2008?! where have I been?' Also, I have to admit that part of the reason I'm MIA is I"m back work, researching, writing papers, my initiative and ambition is back, so I'm usuallly tired of writing by the end of the day (and tend to vent by drinking and listening to music on my ipod while being happy housewife). The good news is I'll have two articles under review hopefully before the first of May, something I am very excited about. And I"ll continue be extremely busy as this last year, not only do I have to defend my dissertation proposal (basically the first 3 chapters) and I've got a full time assistantship for this summer and next year, whch is very exciting despite the fact I''ll miss summer teaching. Consdiering my mood over the last 6 months, being excited is a very good thing, and I'm glad to have at least the sense of enjoyment back.

Anyway, I'm here, I'm sometimes in the pit, and sometimes catch a breath or two and can hope for some distant happier future. It all depends on the day, and I just go with flow these days, sadly turning to alcohol more and more and relying anti-anxiety and anti-depresssant meds to my chagrin. At the moment, I'm just putting one foot in front of the other and hoping for a future where I'll have the confidence and courage I wish I had now. Time is what I need.

So, anyway, if you don't hear from me, no news is good news. But please email or call me anytime, anyone who wants to share their grief with me is giving me a special gift, I love nothing more than recognizing and loving the dream of my son. My friends and family have been priceless to me over the last several months, and I'd be in a much wosre state without them. I am always grateful to share or talk about our shared grief, so don't hesitate.
Thank you all for the overwhelming support.