Truth

No one has found this blog yet so I guess I can be painfilly truthful.

I cannot be funny all the time. In fact my life has changed so much over the past two years that it’s hard to avoid the truth. So here goes.

Do not ever say to someone, “When are you going to start a family?”

“You’re getting older. You’d better start soon.”

Do not ever say, “When are you going to have another?”

For some people it’s a simple comment. For others, it’s a stab to the heart.

I was recently asked this again for the ??? time and I’ll give you some backstory. I have a daughter. She is 2 and the most amazing thing to ever happen to me. She is my word. I cannot survive without her. She makes my mornings bright and my night even better in anticipation of being with her in the morning. She brilliant and I’m sure ever parent says this but honestly, she knows everything. She clever. She animated. She has sarcasm and wit. She is kind and polite and simply amazing. Watching her learn and grow is amazing.

But

There’s that but.

I had a child before her.

I was pregnant, 5 weeks to be exact, and I was brought into the doctor’s office in an emergency. The emergency was the baby was growing in my fallopian tube, right tube to be exact. I was told if they didn’t remove it, I could die when it grows big enough and ruptures.

They made me sign papers and moved me to another wing in the hospital. Two nurses in hazmat suits came into the room and filled two large syringes with radioactive fluid. They laid protective coverings down and then simultaneously injected this liquid into me. We packed up and went home and I went to bed. It was all a fog that was too real. It hurt so bad internally to know what i did but it stayed inside.

I slept only to wake with terrible vomiting, stomach pains, and an overall feeling of death. Death becuase that’s what it was. I killed my unborn child. And now i live with that. So after months of depression and crazy repressed feelings i got pregnant again and it worked. And she’s perfect.

So we wanted another almost a year and a half later. We were successful and at an early pregnancy and a vacation with friends, I had to tell them before the drinks came out and then the guilt of why aren’t you having any wine.

(Which now I see as a rotten way for your friends to make you feel and question.) So after some pressure from my husband wanting to share the exciting news, and me realizing that it would just make life easier, I told them.

And their reaction was terrible. They sat and stared. One asked really over and over and the other said nothing, making me feel horrible. And I see this now. It just added to my mound of saddness growing within. The people I trusted the most and were like sisters just made me question everything. Unfortunately, I would be leaving for the beach with them in a day or two. Maybe I had mistaken their reaction and they really were happy.

So we went to the beach, 6 of us and a child and throughout the week we had some changes to the group. Some left others came. It was one glorious week away. But by Tuesday I wasn’t feeling like myself. Stomach pains and constipation. A horrible combo when you’re trying to do surf and sun. So I called the doctor on Wednesday sometime after midnight because I couldn’t take the uncomfortable weird pain. The nurse put me through to the on call doctor. I tell her my woes and she tells me to take milk of magnesia. So in despiration, I took our truck and drove myself, by myself, to the closest grocery store, following some GPS and hoping this fixes me.

I buy the milk of magnesia and there are about 3 other people in the store and i actually wonder what they’ll think of me if they see me buying this stuff. Meanwhile, I’m dying on the inside.

I drive home in terrible pain, by myself. I am very much alone and start to wonder if I’m going to die tonight. It actually crosses my brain. I think of my daughter and drive home faster. I am very cautious and as I pull into our development where our beach house is, and just as I get through the front entrance a very large buck jumps out in front of my truck. I slam on the breaks narrowly missing it. My heart is racing, my insides are screaming and I’m all alone.

I drove to the store alone, I almost killed a deer and our truck alone and now I’m going to take this medicine and be alone in the bathroom. It’s now after one in the morning and there is no rest in sight.

I get home and take the milk of magnesia. I spend my night between the bathroom and the downstairs couch. The milk of magnesia never does alleviate the pain. And as the sun starts to come up, I’m exhausted. I feel like my insides are rotting and I’m wasting my vacation. I can’t even think about my daughter becuase I feel so terrible.

I drag myself up to bed jus as the sun is rising and tell my husband I’m sick. I don’t want anyone else to see me. It’s Thursday and I’m spending the day in bed. I cannot eat, every move I make hurts and I’m beginning to worry about the baby.

I push that thought aside. My friends have taken care of my daughter and by late afternoon I force myself up. I go downstairs and attempt to plaster a smile on my face. I know I have to make dinner. So I start cooking, stopping ever so often to deal with the pain. I know something is wrong but I don’t know what. The two girls crashing at our house are related to my one friend who has been there all week. They are nurses. I think I’ll tell them the issue. They say a suppository fixes everything. My other friend at the house needs to get something at the local supermarket. I cannot fathom taking a supposity at this point. The supermakert is a 1 minute from the house and I go for the ride after having been cooped up in the house all day.

I can barely sit on the seat. Every bump hurts more and more and the pain is radiating up my body. I am embarrassed and think this poop must be impacted. How will I deal?

We get back and my daughter has eaten. I do some dishes and make it to a couch. My friend from the trip sees I’m in pain and begins to ask questions. I explain I’m about ready to throw in the towel but I’m embarrassed and don’t want to have to make others watch my daughter on vacation. The pain gets worse. I send my husband in search of a supposity at the supermarket. The pain is so much worse. I start googling hospitals. He walks in and I say hospital.

We drive 40 minutes to the nearest hospital. I’m dying but try to act cool. It’s getting worse by the minute and by the time we finally register and I tell them my problem, the pain is now unbearable.

The nurses act as though it’s a blocked bowel or constipation and I’ll be fine. I’m in a chair in the waiting room and it’s too much. I’m trying not to worry my husband but I’m getting dizzy and nauseous. A nurse takes my vitals and I’m barely conscious.

So back to the room we go, I undress and speak to a doctor. I explain my fears about being pregnant and one was ectopic before. This is the first time someone reacted to this statement. I told three nurses before this chance at speaking to the doctor and the nurses didn’t bat an eye, after all I was just constipated. But this new doctor listened.

I was immediatley sent for an ultrasound. Alone. It took longer than any ultrasound I have ever had before. The technician said little to nothing, but kept pushing that probe to photograph whatever she saw. The pain was excruciating and I was alone.

Click, click, click. Move the probe, click, click, click. It felt like an eternity and then after the last click, the technician left me to check the pictures. I was alone again. I thought and worried and tried to calm myself.

My mind was racing in a loop. Here I was, alone again, and she took pictures. Lots of pictures, but what does that mean. Finally, after an eternity she wheeled me back to my husband in the ER. I was worried. I was very sick. I could tell this was bad. I could feel the sickeness making me more and more alone.

And then the doctor came in. I’m 6 plus weeks pregnant and it’s in my right tube again. Except it has ruptured my tube and blood is pooling inside of me. That’s why I’m in pain. This thing they keep saying it. It is a person and I have to do this again. Alone. My husband is there. He is sitting right there but there will be more shots. More sickness.

No. Wait what? I need surgery? This is not how this goes. Now? Why? Becuase I’m bleeding internally. I’m on vacation. This isn’t supposed to happen. What about that baby? I’m going to kill another baby. My heart aches more than my body. But I must remain calm for my husband. I FORCE myself. Hysteria is good for nothing.

I think about…

Everyone I told becuase I had to. My parents, his parents, my friends. This little person. It’s a mess. And I have to go to surgery now, on vacation without my daughter or my comfortable house. I have to get surgery and I’m in some other state. What state am I even in? Killing another baby. Alone.

So they prep me and do the 2 hour surgery at 12 am on Friday morning. I wake up in recovery to strangers. Alone. The baby. It’s gone. The thing they kept calling it. Alone. I’m so alone. The doctor said I’m so very sorry. She was sincere. I know she mean it but I felt so alone. It was just words in the air. I get wheeled to hospital room and my husband sleeps on a chair. I barely sleep and I think. I want more meds. Make me stop thinking. Make me not alone. Yet I’m going deeper and deeper. On the surface I go through the motions. I text my friends who were watching my child. I call my mom. She cries and cries. I say I’m ok. Everything is ok, over and over. My husband is so sad. I make myself look ok. The doctor stops to talk. I see the pictures of the surgery. Of the mass, they call it. The mass. The second mass that was someone. My someone. And it’s gone now. Gone to the bio garbage. Somehwere it’s going. A piece of me. My child. My third child is gone somewhere and the doctor is sorry again. My husband is sad. I am alone.

We are discharged and program the GPS to navigate us back through the corn fields to our vacation house in another state. Apparently, the hospital was in Maryland but we lived in Delaware for the week. The ride is awkward. I try to make it better but am in a lot of pain and feel like I’m lost in my thoughts. We park. I go to the couch. Where is my daughter? The others took her to the pool and they’re on their way back for lunch. The tv is on. I think it’s something familiar, a movie I’ve seen a million times but it’s so far away. I remember the couch, the pillows. The wall color, the blinds. I remember the door opening and people quietly saying I’m sorry. I get hugged from behind. It feels so far away. I’m alone. Sitting here on a couch where my friends are. I’m all alone and I want to talk. I want to make it normal. I don’t know what I say. I try to explain everything but I feel like I’m trapped in a dark room very far iside myself and I’m watching everything go one. My daughter is there but where I don’t remember. Did I talk to her, hug her, did I even have any interaction with her. Did I give her lunch? The dark room is swallowing me. I’m alone in this dark room and it’s sinking within me. I go to bed and when I wake I’m confused. I feel like I’m very small in a giant room. The bathroom is so far away. I hear people but they’re downstairs and I don’t have the energy to yell. I am alone. I need to get up. I do but what happenes after that is fuzzy.

Vacation is now over. I cannot function. I am very ill. My friends must babysit my daughter and myself because my husband is going golfing at a prestigious golf club and I am unable to care for myself. He recieved an invite from a member. I am upset. I am sick. I think I ask him to stay and he goes. He must know how sick I am. Doesn’t he feel this pain and sadness? But he goes and I’m alone again. So very alone. I sleep.

I try to talk. I try to seem ok. My husband isn’t around. He’s golfing. Our baby is in the garbage. He’s golfing. I’m alone. It repeats in my head like as if it’s on a loop. I’m alone. I’m sinking. The darkness is spreading. I begin to think of dark things. I am too tired to do anything because I’m alone. My friends are here. My daughter is here but I’m so alone. Monday comes and he has golf in the afternoon for his high school golf team that he coaches. He leaves. People come over. Who is it? I don’t know. I can only remeber being alone in the dark. Tuesday and he’s at golf. But…

I must be a mom and wife. I must do house type chores. I have a daughter. She’s a year and a half. She needs me. I must move and do and look engaged. I don’t remeber anything for the weeks to follow. I just remember being alone.

School starts. I have to go back to work. I hate everyone. I hate myself most and I want to not feel. I’m so very lost and cannot get rid of these feelings. I keep sinking into the darkness. I start taking pills. I take pain pills becuase they help me sleep. I think. I can see the picture of “it” when I close my eyes. The mass they removed in my tube.

My friends don’t care. They didn’t want it in the beginning. They didn’t care. I remember their reaction when I first told them. Silence. Asking if I was serious.

Alone and no one can pull me out of this hold. It’s so deep I can barely see light. Months went by. Problems became worse. My darkness took over. I made myself more alone becuse it’s more familiar anymore. I hate everyone. Am I even alive anymore? Things get worse. My friends are gone. They washed their hands of me becuse I didn’t answer their texts. Do I care? What is it like to care at this point? Alone.

My friends are gone, and now I’m onto my husband. He walked away the day after we came home. He left me sick and alone in a deep well and the light at the top is becoming smaller and smaller. I am alone. No friends. No family. It’s a secret. I want to tell everyone but I’m so alone. No husband. Don’t ask me questions. I don’t have answers. Don’t touch me. I won’t respond. Don’t text or call. I don’t care.

Or do I care so much I’m overwhelmed? What does it matter? More pills, more booze, more anger, more darkness. Push everyone away and be alone. I’m so tired all of the time. So tired I can barely drive my car completely sober. I at at stop lights holding my eyes open. I’m tired all of the time. Every minute. I want to live and be happy again.

Eventually I go to my doctor. I cannot breathe I’m so far in the hole. I cannot control anything. I’m so overwhelmed. I’m alone. I’m not living and I’m barely existing. Everyone let me go. Walked away. My only safety and comfort. I don’t even know how my daughter is even though I’ve been taking care of her. She’s there but it’s like I can’t see her. I hug her and kiss her but it’s like kissing air. What has happened to me?

My doctor sends me for pills and and another appoinment. I take the pills like candy. They make me numb. Numb and alone. I drink more and I get angry. I want to feel pain. I want to hurt to feel physical pain. I start taking more medicine. I feel different but I start to lose emotions altogether. I try to smile and participate. I’m alone. I go to therapy. I take the pills and I start to feel better. I have days and times that the darkness starts. Sometimes I feel alone, and I’m not upset by it. I just know what to expect.

I am getting better but I am not the same person. I am jadded and angry. I am ok being alone. I am working on family. I’m not perfect. My meds aren’t perfect and make me say and do things and then I change them and I’m different again. I talk to people but sometimes I can’t remember. It’s the pills. They help and hurt. The constant noise that plagued me is quieter. My anxiety is more manageable. I have been working on improving. But the feeling of being alone won’t leave. It’s a part of me. I have embraced it. I have the marks to remind me of who I am and what I have, and what I have lost. I won’t forget. It’s who I am. I’ve come to like that I made it through and can do it even if I’m sometimes still alone.

So don’t ask me if I’m having another. It’s not your business but since you’re asking I have 3 children.

Don’t joke about having pregnancies and children being a pain. Don’t be a shitty parent to your kids. And don’t question others about their family. Be more sensitive, because you don’t know. And you asking proves you’ll never know.