Wednesday, September 19, 2012
I don't no longer feel the .... oomph I've felt for this blog.
I need to close it down.
I've enjoyed my time here.
I'm gonna keep it open for all to get the encouragement they seek - but I no longer feel called to write here.
I am still suffering - but no longer from PPD.
If you want, please follow me on my bipolar blog.
Love you guys. If you dont wanna follow me on there? Follow me on twitter. I'm always there.
And as always don't ever give up.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
I'm going against the paranoid side of me and posting an excerpt of my book. Enjoy.
So I go, give him all my symptoms and what does he say to me? I think maybe you are depressed and need to take medicine for it.
I looked at him and was like: Umm...ha! I think you might be the crazy one doc. I am happy. I just got married, we are happy. Sure, I work for Cruella DeVil (no, will not go into that. She doesn't deserve any part of this book. Serioulsy, she was worse than Glen Close as Cruella or Meryl Streep in that Prada movie) – but my life is great. Yeah, we were in major debt that caused my husband to work two jobs even with me working. It still was livable. (yes, I do realize I was being totally delusional)
There were something funky about this pregnancy though. I was...not clicking to it. No wait...bad word. Umm....I wasn't connecting. I couldn't get too happy. Not that I didn't want to; I just literally could not connect. I mean the first joy about me being pregnant? Lasted all of a day. Or two. After that? I was just....meh.
All I kept thinking about? Was I about how I was gonna have a miscarriage. I just knew I wasn't gonna carry this baby to full term. I knew something wasn't right. But I stayed silent. Cause again, who thinks like that? Who prepares for a miscarriage?
I put on a face. I was happy. My nails were growing long and hard. I had such a strong feeling – this was a girl. I even had her name picked out. Emma. I planned her name – but I still couldn't picture her face. I couldn't fathom that I was pregnant. Like my mind wasn't accepting the fact that I was pregnant.
Then, I started getting weird cramps. I thought nothing of it. I mean you are supposed to get growing cramps right? I started brown spotting on my underwear. Still thought nothing of it. Don't know why – but it didn't bother me.
Then, I started to bleed. My heart stopped. We went to see the doctor. He saw the embryo. Was smaller for how far along I should have been, and we couldn't see the heartbeat but he said: “Don't worry. Our sonogram machine is really old.” He remained positive. My husband remained positive. Me? I just couldn't grasp that positivity. I just felt...funky. I felt empty. I felt nothing. I even stopped bleeding as much. But still, I just couldn't get happy.
So he made me an appointment with the hospital for a normal sonogram. Then that night? I bled even more.
The next day? I bled even more. We went back to the doctor.
Now, for this next part? Its kind of hard for me to write. I had the miscarriage. So, as a form of therapy – I wrote it out in story form.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
I'm circling the drain.
I can't. Just can't take it. These are the times when I just hate being a mom.
Yeah. I said it - I hate that I said it and yet I really don't. It's kind of freeing. Whatever, ya know what I mean. If you don't, just chalk it up to the fact that I'm crazy.
Just tonight was hard. Diva was banging hard on an empty plate, Monkey was repeating every single word anyone said at a decibel heard by deaf people in China, and Mr. Man was talking about his day.
How is that hard? I don't know. Just sometimes noise is such a trigger that all I want to do is shove a fork in my eye to dull the pain in my brain.
It's been a hard coupla days. Obviously being stuck in the house this long recuperating is starting to affect me.
Ya know today was hard - but then? I get these small little moments that remind me. Remind me of why I do what I do.