That Bitch

I don't use that word lightly. As a woman in a male field the word makes me cringe. It is usually used by misogynistic men to degrade women. When women use it, most people think, "cat fight!" and get excited.

But in this case, no other word suffices. If you are not fond of cursing, I suggest you stop reading. I have a whole lot of ugly anger and grief to dump today and I'm not going to watch where it falls. I can't. I am done protecting people. I am done being a doormat. I am fucking done.

I have a coworker that has the office next to mine. She is 50ish, unhappy, and sticks her nose into everyone else's business. No one in the entire building can stand her so I know I'm not the only one that doesn't like her. Until recently she was just irritating. I pride myself on getting along with nearly everyone, but there is always someone that makes being nice impossible. I thought my grief would give me a buffer zone for her BS, but no. She is the acid on the open wound (trust me - a little HCl hurts a lot more than salt or lemon juice).

Today she complained to me, again, about errors in the data entry. There are several people entering data but she seems to think the errors were mine. She told me to try not to let my mind wander while I was doing data entry. About 3 minutes into this lecture (mind you - she is NOT my supervisor, nor anyone's for that matter) I said, "Cheryl, do you realize it has not even been three months since my baby died? I'm not having the easiest time right now." I could not keep from choking up when I said that and tears started pouring down my face. She said, "I know it's been hard for you, but that's what I mean by not letting your mind wander." I told her that only one person said they were sorry when I came back to work and I've tried to ignore that. I was going to say that what she was doing was much worse when she interrupted me to say that everyone was told I didn't want the baby brought up. It's possible the co-worker I spoke to said that, but I doubt it. That was probably her interpretation. Which, fine, whatever. If you are uncomfortable with death and don't know what to say I can handle that. What I can't, and won't handle is being lectured about petty shit by a fucking busybody know-it-all when I am obviously upset.

That bitch would not stop telling me I had to "not let my mind wander" while I was working, even after I started crying. Really? So I'm supposed to turn off that fucking movie in my head of a dead baby, a dead baby, oh look - it's a dead baby. A dead baby that I had to PAY a doctor to kill. I dead baby that was so deformed the only perfect part was his feet. A dead baby that has a FUCKING NAME and I loved very much and I want with me with every fiber of my being? That one? Well tell me how, you heartless bitch, I would love to know. Cause you know what? That movie is hell. Every. Single. Day. And lucky you, you don't know what it's like. Lucky you that you don't have to wonder if your body killed your only son. Lucky you that you can go to sleep at night and not have nightmares of religious maniacs calling you a murderer. Or worse, dream of a perfect and sweet little boy THAT WILL NEVER EXIST.

She tried to apologize, but it didn't mean much because she continued to harp on about the stupid errors. I left work in hysterical tears. It was like a damn broke and everything I try to hide and not think about at work came flooding out. I sobbed loudly all the way to my car (people looked away from me) and when I got to my car I started choking and nearly vomited from sobbing so hard. That is the hardest I've cried ever. I now have a migraine and periodic bouts of intense sobbing and outright wailing. I guess I have not been letting myself feel things for it to be this intense. But Jesus! I'm not crazy that what she did was horrible, am I?

I wrote an email to our mutual supervisor and told him we had an issue and I needed a couple of days off to calm down. I won't fucking get paid for the bitch upsetting me, but I can't go back until I get some perspective or I might throw something at her. I am going to talk to my boss tomorrow and tell him the whole story. I am hoping that he can tell her to send any future complaints through him and I am going to ask if I can move my office.

I think my reaction was a little out of proportion to what she did, but I don't think I'm being unreasonable in bringing it up with my boss. I don't really give a damn if I get her in trouble. I also don't give a damn if she can't stand me after this. Maybe then she will shut the hell up around me. It is time to protect me. I am not going to apologize to her for falling apart and I am not going to accept her apology. If any of you knew me IRL you would know this is a radical personality shift.

I would welcome any creative curses I can scream while beating my dammit doll (Thank you, Kelly!).

What would you have done? How can I tell my boss what this did to me so that he understands?

Trying again

My preconception appointment with the MF specialist is Thursday. I'm terrified. Terrified he will dismiss my fears like my husband does, terrified he will find something even worse, terrified of trying again.

Everytime I think about being pregnant I get short of breath and my chest hurts. I suspect that I will start having anxiety attacks if I do get pregnant. I will have to remember to add that to my list of questions.

I still don't know if I want to do this. Can't I just skip the 9 months of sheer terror and get a healthy baby? I'd give up feeling the kicking and even being able to nurse for that. I wish I could afford an infant adoption.

This week is going to be really fucking hard to get through and I can't even imagine how hard the two week waits will be now. I've never been so scared, not even when I knew Aiden was dying. Everyone is right, the anticipation is way worse than the event. I just wish I could convince my heart of that.

Ugh - that didn't last long

I knew the peace I found yesterday was temporary but I had hoped it would last longer than 1 day. Last night I dreamed I had an early miscarriage, I didn't even know I was pregnant. I just had a gush of blood at my doctor's office and she told me she saw an embryo. I went to my husband crying and he got mad because I couldn't tell him right away what was wrong.

I spent the morning drive to work reliving Aiden's birth. Feeling that tiny, still body slip from me and hearing the soft words of my doctor as she checked the placenta. I wish I could unremember that part. I realized that part of the problem with my dreams is that I have no good memories of Aiden.

There was a discussion on Glow in the woods not too long ago that caused some misunderstandings and hurt feelings. I think everyone managed to work it out to some degree but I feel I have to rehash some of it to explain this feeling. A couple of women that had miscarriages or lost their babies before birth were regretting that they didn't get more time. The mothers of the babies that were born alive but didn't live long were horrified that anyone would want the memory of their baby suffering before it died.

Other people explained it more eloquently, but it came down to just wanting more time with our babies, not wishing for suffering. For me I wanted a memory of something other than heartbreak and horrible no-win decisions. I wanted a memory of how his warm skin felt in my arms, a memory of his eyes open, a memory of kissing him. A smile would probably not have been possible, but some mothers did get that. I need something other than death and a cold, decomposing body to dream about. Don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry I saw and held Aiden's body. That was the only tangible thing I got out of this pregnancy. I wasn't horrified by his condition, except that I couldn't bring myself to kiss him. That bothers me. But I so wish I had something else to remember. Even his kicking is tainted since he was already paralyzed at 20 weeks. I was only feeling his arms moving and when he jerked; it makes me sick now to think of all the times I smiled when I felt him move.

Protecting Aiden from suffering is the reason we ended the pregnancy early and the reason I didn't get those things. I am okay with our decision. I just wail at the injustice of having to knowingly deprive myself of those memories in order to protect my son. On days like today I almost wish I didn't have the memories I do have, they are all bad. Would it be better to not have Aiden in my heart? The mother in me screams "NO, you will not erase my son", but a small part whispers, "this hurts, I want it to go away."

I wish it would get better.

*Edited to add: I just heard this again and was struck by how appropriate it was.

"It's a need you never get used to, so fierce and so confused.
It's a loss you never get over the first time you lose."

- Come On Come On, Mary Chapin Carpenter

Walking in the rain

I feel more connected to the world today, more alive. I don't feel so much like I am being left behind. It's kind of nice.

I had some energy for the first time in a very long time so I went for a walk in the rain. My feet are soaked but I soaked up some peace too. I have always loved the rain, as long as it is not cold. Today was almost warm enough to be perfect.

I'm glad I can still find peace in nature. I was afraid it would be another constant reminder of what I don't have. It is, but in a kinder way. Aiden is out there, waiting for me to feel the sunshine.

Something that I've been thinking of

Self portrait

I am thinking of a self portrait,
A painting.
Streaks of blue, white, gray, and black,
Like rain.
Or my heart,
Melting,
Becoming less than it was.


Alone


Anguished


But bright, and still here.

I miss you, alligator

Yesterday was our monthly trip to Saint Andrews Bay for an all day sampling trip on the pontoon boat, the first one I've been on since I came back to work. It was sunny but still cold. I was looking forward to being on the boat again but I was dreading seeing the people that had last seen me in November, when I was still pregnant with you. I didn't know if the people we meet out there knew that you were gone and I couldn't bring myself to ask. I guess my coworker must have told them because the woman told me she was sorry to hear about the baby. I was grateful that she said something, most people have pretended nothing happened.

I cried when the boat got out on the water. It was so beautiful, the sun was sparkling on the water and the wind was ruffling the surface. The wind was cold, but scented with spring and all the promise of new life. But something was missing and it ruined the whole day. You loved riding on the boat, at least I always thought so because you always moved a lot when I rode on a boat. When we came out of the channel and picked up speed we went straight through a large flock of cormorants. They flew into the air and seemed to hover for a minute, following along with the boat so that they stayed just ahead of it. I thought of you while tears streamed down my face and the wind blew them from my cheeks to blend with the salt spray.

I thought about my beliefs and that part of you, the energy that made you unique in the world, might be there with me right at that moment. I thought again of how like a cold spring wind my grief is. It blows up out of nowhere on a beautiful sunny day and knocks me flat into a cold and muddy puddle. Some days it's not hard to stand up and brush off the mud, other days it's all I can do to keep my head above the black sucking mud and keep breathing. I wondered if you would be angry at me for being so sad when faced with such beauty. But you aren't here, so it can't be beautiful.

I realized after an hour or so that the day was so hard because this was the last thing I remember enjoying. The last time I did this trip was shortly before you died and that too was a beautiful day. It was warmer then and I was happy. The contrast was stark. Yesterday there was no squirming to laugh about, no need to brace for the bouncing when we hit a wave, no worry about getting too cold or getting sea sick. No late morning sickness to keep me from eating. Just me, all alone, huddled in my jacket so that no one could see me sobbing for my lost child. I wanted to go home, and I wanted you. It was such a beautiful day, but you weren't there to see it.

A little better now

Thanks for all the supporting comments. I did realize after a few hours that we did the best we could with the information we had. I am kind of angry that Kira's pediatrician never said anything. Yes, she is fine, but given the possibility that she had an open spinal chord, they should have warned me it could happen again.

A big part of my freak out is the possibility of a complicated pregnancy. I already have a lot of problems with my chronic pain and contractions. I am scared of being on blood thinners and all the complications that might cause.

I really, really want to have a successful pregnancy and hold another newborn, but I'm not sure a complicated pregnancy is worth it for me. Giving up on that plan is going to be terribly hard.

I also am sick to death of doctors and tests and missing work. I don't want to explain to my boss why I am still needing so much time off.

Someone recently said that birthing and holding a dead baby is the highlight of the experience, it is all the things that follow that are so very hard. I can so see where she was coming from. I want this to end. I want to get on with my life and mourn my son without all the questions and maybes and what ifs.

This past week has just sucked.