What can I say.... I really, really, dislike this time of year. I'm a real fucking scrooge. It's crazy but holiday music makes me so angry....It is NOT "the most wonderful time of the year", I see no "Winter Wonderland", I will not be "dashing through the fucking snow laughing all the way", I don't have any "Favorite Things" and I'm far from Merry. I was warned by other loss parents that holidays suck but I had no clue. I wanted to stay open and hopeful that I'd somehow be "over it" or past my grief. I was really fucking delusional. I feel like I'm taking tiny steps backwards. I think about her all the time. I look at her sister and I see her. I look at her pictures and the sight of her perfect little hands with her daddy's long fingers, her head full of black hair, and her sweet little heart shaped lips and the pain consumes every ounce of me. I can't breathe. I want so bad to have some sense of peace. I fight really hard to keep my head above water...to be positive...to be kind...to acknowledge my blessings but then I get so damn angry. I replay the days before I lost her and the what ifs... I really fear running into the midwife that I hold responsible for allowing my daughter to die because I don't know if I'd break down and sob or just break and act on all the anger that I hold. I replay the moments after I lost her and how my sister held on to the posibility that they were wrong and she was still alive and how I wish that was true... The horrible 24 fucking hours that I was in labor and the pain that I endured to give birth to death. I don't know how people's faith gets stronger after losing a child. I really don't. I don't know that I can ever forgive myself or whoever/whatever for this. There will never be any justification/explanation that will make sense other than...I was just unlucky. It's been 7 long months and I still find myself saying over and over again..."I cannot believe this is my life". Nothing seems real and I feel like I've been wandering in a fog....going through the motions....just waiting to wake up from this REALLY fucked up nightmare.

So...I had one child die and my oldest is thankfully still alive but I feel like I'm quickly losing her. I've heard several times in the last few years that we might be dealing with behavioral issues and not just emotional which would explain the manipulation, aggression, lying, inability to maintain any "normal" relationship, and her lack of response to treatment. I fought believing it because like any parent that loves their children with all of their being, accepting the fact that their child could always struggle and never really live a "normal" life is like death in a sense. There is really no treatment for personality disorders. You just hope and pray and do everything within in your power to make a difference. She has been with her father for the last week and he is doing everything within his power to accommodate her....walking on "eggshells" as he calls it, to avoid conflict...not enforcing routine or rules....doing everything within his power to put her more at odds with me ....and giving in to her...only creating a more difficult and unrealistic environment for her. So... I'm trying to figure out the next plan or course of treatment for when her father will be unable to handle her (that time will occur soon) and in the meantime, hoping that the Universe will let up a bit on my family and move that dark cloud to above the heads others more deserving. I still hold on to the notion of positive thoughts and energy turning into positive outcomes.... I think.

Oh....JUST SAY IT ALREADY!!!

Have you noticed that people casually say...."love ya" but cannot say I-LOVE-YOU??? There is a difference, ya know? They cannot fully commit to putting it all out there for fear that someone will think they're a kook if they preface it with an 'I'. Silly...huh? I've been taking notes and only a few people have been able to reciprocate my love...well, only a few have found it in themselves to commit to an 'I'. We all know and tend to forget when living in blissful ignorance that tomorrow is never promised...why live with needless regret? So.... I decided to tell those that I dearly care for, how I feel about them. No holding back...no wimping out...I put it out there. I tell others that I-LOVE-THEM. Chances are if you're reading this...you are probably one of my friends and I hope that I've told you that I LOVE YOU! If I haven't yet....here it is....

I LOVE YOU!!!! I FUCKING LOVE... Y-O-U....

Ok, so I went a bit too far with the fucking part.... BUT....you know I love that word. Seriously...Why is it so damn difficult to commit to it? Don't buffer your feelings and don't live with regret! Plus, doesn't if feed your soul to know that in this wicked ass world, there are people that live and love with abandon???

Kinda got what I asked for...

So, I was full of anxiety over going to Thanksgiving dinner and it turned out that I didn't even go. My oldest daughter gave me hell and I spent just about all of the day dealing with her. Hours of keeping her from hurting herself, and...the others in my home but she was mainly after me. It was nasty day.... I don't know how much more I can take or what the hell to do.





Dear Universe....I've had enough and I'd like the shit to stop NOW!!!! Don't know if it's Karma, negative energy, or the fucked up life I chose for myself but I can't do much more. It's taking a toll on my body and I'm figting really damn hard not to be a 'Debbie Downer'.

I'm in....I'm out

I quit a band....

and that band told another band about me....

so I auditioned for a new band....

and I think I'm in that band....

but got a call from another band that knows someone from the other band....

Confused yet? So am I!

Another audition this week. What the hell am I doing?????

Bachelors in Theatre Arts....

(Pretty bad....huh?)

I can smile, laugh and shoot the shit with the best of y'all... but it often pains me to do it. I sometimes feel guily for smiling and laughing. One of my degrees is in theatre and I've truly had to use some of my old skills in the last 6 months. The longer I have to fake it, the more I need to retreat to my safe space and breathe....and get angry and cry because I have to be someone that I'm NOT to protect myself and others.

After retreating to my bedroom to cry as I saw my family and friends gather for Areila's memorial service, I somehow got myself together to get through that day. I fake it for work and I acted/faked it during the benefit concert that I organized. Actually, I'm pretty damn impressed at how good I looked that night. I had an awesome Cheshire Cat smile...I greeted...I hugged....I laughed....I even sang a few songs. I also drank a lot....A LOT!!

(You'd never know I am a hot fucking mess by looking at the pics....huh?)

I don't know how it happens but I somewhat step outside of my body and allow it to go through the motions and appear "normal". I'm so fucking far from normal and I doubt that I will ever be again.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow and I've never dreaded the holidays more than now. We all know that holidays are meant for happiness and togetherness. It's often a time when new family members get introduced to other family members....when children play...when adults laugh, talk, and reminisce....when babies get passed from arm to arm...moments of bliss. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and although I'm very thankful for my family and friends....the aching and hollow feeling is more intense. How can I be thankful....really? I should be toting around and adorable, cooing, giggling, juicy-legged 6 month old baby. This time last year, I was fantasizing about this year....not being pregnant and having another addition to my beautiful family. There is someone missing.....someone that should be here. I am incomplete and I don't want any parts of the traditions that made our holidays before Areila. I've been so upset not knowing how to include Areila in some way.....but feeling ridiculous that I WANT to include her. She's dead...she's gone...no one really knew her but me and I feel pretty fucking cheated for the 9 months that I had. Why would others care to include her and won't they think I'm a kook for wanting and needing it? I really don't want to go but I'm going....for my husband and my girls....for the rest of my family. Mainly, so they don't try to put me in the crazy place for not understanding that I will feel incredibly insecure, self-conscious, unthankful and guilty, for feeling unthankful....and would rather be curled up in a chair with my pajamas on.

So, tomorrow I will put on my glasses, hope that we're in a dimly lit room so that others don't see the tears that will well up in my eyes and I will work really fucking hard to keep the tears from overflowing....and I will smile my fake ass smile to protect my husband and children so that they can have the holiday that they deserve. Wish me luck!

Please let there be no babies.....

Ok, ok...I'm going....

I-got-out-of-the-fucking-house (for myself) to spend time with a friend that I would not have even gotten to know on this level if it weren't for my precious Areila. Lets just say that she knows me on a level that none of my friends have ever known. :) The circumstances behind it are REALLY, REALLY fucked up but I'm so glad and grateful to have my friends and (supportive) family. We drove 45mins. away to grub on some delish vegetarian Indian food. Nom Nom... (forget the roaches that I saw in the bathroom) This friend probably doesn't know it, but she's given me and taught me sooooo much. She is TRULY what I mentioned in my previous posts....I see "god" (divine) in her.... Who needs religion when people alone, emit goodness, love, and light!?!?!?

P.S.....I've been drinking but I promise that I won't edit this post when I'm sober....

Fur babies....

A few months after losing Areila, I went outside to pick some fresh basil and parsley for dinner and heard a squeeling/squeeking coming from the front yard. I recognized the noise as an animal in distress and as I turned to follow the noise, I saw a baby animal scurry across the lawn. I thought to myself....oh fuck, I DO NOT want to be mama to an orphaned baby animal. I walked closer and saw that it was a baby rabbit, looked around and didn't see any other animal, but noticed its nest was torn apart and scattered across the lawn. When I approached it unsteadily scurried under a bush and I was going to leave it there in hopes that the mother would appear after I left but as I walked away, it reappeared on the sidewalk. Again, I thought...fuck, fuck, fuck. Well, I scooped it up and brought it down to my husband to hold. When I opened the door I heard the loudest distressed squeel and saw a tiny animal running for its life down the street while a crow was attacking charging. I ran out into the street and scared the crow away and scooped up the poor traumatized rabbit. I looked around for any others and found no more....damn crow got them.

(Om (left), Shanti (right)

I presented another bunny to my husband and all I could do was let out another.... "fuck." I've done wildlife rehab in the past. I've been able to nurse and release many wild animals back to the wind.... oppossums, skunks, squirrels, raccoons, groundhougs....never have I been able to keep rabbits alive. I thought for sure that the one rabbit that was attacked by the crow would die of shock. Oh....and I was not in the mindset to lose another creature but....I had no choice. Gosh, I just wish I wasn't there at that time and nature could have run its course without my knowing . I did some research and made it my mission t keep these precious bunnies alive....luckily they were about a week old and weren't totally helpless newborns.

I can't begin to tell you how serious I took being foster baby bunny mama. I woke up every few hours at night, mixed formula, prepared probiotics and even mixed poo with formula (rabbits are cecotropes/poop eaters) to maintain healthy digestive flora. I gradually weened them from formula as I introduced various greens. I was constantly on the lookout for grasses/flowers that I thought they would enjoy and eat. It was truly insane....I was always scouting out places to stop and pick grasses. They grew quickly grew and became eating and pooping machines. I even found a babysitter for them while I went into the hospital for surgery.

(Om and Shanti~couple days before release)

The time came for them to be released. They were still small but old enough to care for themselves in the wild. I felt like they had a better chance for survival in the wild than in my care. I released them at dusk, as suggested. The one little guy (Shanti) scurried away while the other (Om) hung around for quite some time. My husband and I hoped that they would come back and somewhat remember me but I interacted with them as little as possible so that they would fear humans. Everytime I see a rabbit in the yard, I hope that it is one of "my babies".

(Om~release)

Yes....I am a true dork for naming the bunnies Om and Shanti.

Dorothy wasn't lying....

There is truly no place like home!!!

One of my ways of coping has been to avoid people by not leaving the house....not answering the phone....not answering the door. At the very beginning of my loss...I just couldn't talk...I didn't know what to do, think or say....and it was the same for my family and friends. So, I made it easy on all of us and kept my distance. Far too often, people would unintentionally say the wrong damn thing and fuck me up for days. I know, most people had/have good intentions but sometimes, the fewer the words, the better. My advice for others....Just listen, be thoughtful and careful....sometimes less is more and know when to keep your fucking mouth shut!

I have to say....my best friend has been the most amazing friend to me. She is truly a special person that just knows the right things to do and say. She is one of two people that has not fucked up and sent me spiraling downwards. Amazing that a woman who doesn't have children of her own, other than her amazing fur babies, has been so incredibly supportive and understanding. Goes to show....you don't have to truly KNOW what someone has gone through and continues to go through but compassion and openness can mean so much to a grieving person.

Let me also add.... my cousin and mainly, his wife to that short list of exceptionally supportive people. They watched my 3yr old the whole time I was in the hospital and continued to be so wonderful, and show so much love and support to my family. I cannot say enough about their kindness and understanding. I can go on forever about how helpful she has been...never expecting or even accepting anything in return.

These people that I mentioned are examples of what I mentioned in a previous post....they truly have the divine in them!

So, as I mentioned before.... I eliminated a lot of people from my life..."friends" AND family. I've got cousins, aunts, uncles, and step-siblings....many....that haven't even said"boo" to me since losing Areila. I do get it....it's awkward...it's uncomfortable. What do you say to a person whose baby died before he/she was born? Or perhaps many, like my father, don't see Areila's death as a significant loss because, "it's not like she was born alive". Well, she was very alive in me for 9 months....and when her perfect little body entered this world...I expected and hoped that she would be REAL for everyone else.

Two weeks after giving birth to Areila.... My mother told me to basically be thankful for my living children. I had no words....all I could do was cry. YES, YES....I am so blessed/fortunate and GRATEFUL to have my beautiful girls but there is one missing...forever gone. I felt so guilty and torn....I still do. For feeling so inadequate because I'm grieving for my child that no one truly knows, other than myself and for not giving my all to my living children. When I do give my all (because I often have to )to my living children, I feel guilty and fear that I will forget Areila. My biggest fear is that Areila will soon be forgotten...I fight really hard to hold onto every thought, touch, vision, smell, emotion, and memory that surrounds her. I don't get very far trying to get my 3yr old to commit to telling her future children about Areila, 40yrs from now. I think it was after my mom's "words of support" that I opened the bottle of rum for the first time in 10 months.

Well, of course my mother, mother-in-law, and step-mother suggested very, very shortly after losing Areila, that I get some "help" for my "depression". I resisted it and continue to resist it because I've never been a depressed person....grief and depression have similarities but they are not the same. My step-mother was a great support in the beginning but after about a month or so....she very abruptly distanced herself from me....I'm just going to assume that my grief was more than she wanted to deal with. WHATEVER. I'm not close to my mother-in-law so whatever my husband reports satisfies her "concern" because he doesn't report her "happy pill" suggestion to me anymore. As for my mother....I avoided her like the plague....and I feel terrible for the fact that it drove her crazy but I had to protect myself. If I cried or showed my pain.... I was judged and being judged for mourning the loss of a child is really fucked up. Even now, when I speak to my mother....she never mentions Areila and I don't bring her up because shedding a tear for my precious baby could turn into more judgement. The fact that I have to do this hurts my heart. I do get it...she too, is a mother and it pains her to see her child in pain. Mothers feel that they have an eternal duty to protect and "help" when their children are in trouble. Sigh...

I was going to share the details of a family gathering that I very, very reluctantly attended. It was on the 3 month mark and I was already a hot mess. I'll try to briefly recap. I felt like the big purple elephant with pink spots when I entered....if there was a record playing, I'm pretty sure we all would have heard the needle scratch across the album. I felt so insecure...so empty so vulnerable. I still do, which is why home is the only place that I feel any comfort. Anyway, someone had the fucking nerve to tell me that I was glowing and asked if I was pregnant again. HUH? I can barely get out of my bed some days...or even shower for days....hell, most of the time I barely know the day of the week....and it would be oh so simple for me to just be pregnant again...huh? Ok, there was a baby there....around the same age as what Areila should have been. He was being passed around from person to person, and all I kept thinking was...Areila should also be admired the same way that baby was. The mother of the baby was a friend of the family and even though I didn't go to her baby shower...I did send some things to her. She didn't even look my way....no thank you's, no "I'm sorries", not even a hello. I don't need to tell you what I did once I got home and on facebook.) I had to leave at one point and walked around the block when I wanted to have another drink but the baby was at the drink table and....after my aunt who, never called or sent a fucking card made a point to tell me, "how good I look....sorry about the baby....but you look really good." Then, two close family members decided to walk in front of me with "the baby" and then put the baby in my mother's arms as she was sitting right across from me at the table. It was too much and I gathered my children and husband and left. I texted something letting them know that I was hurt. When I shared my texted message, others didn't think it offensive but, clearly it offended this family member because they haven't spoken to me in over 3 months.

Oh...and how fucked up is your life when you spend your time at a party avoiding a baby?

Well.....the next day, I got a call from my mother. I, of course, didn't answer the phone so she left the sweetest little message about how I was basically destroying the family, and how disappointed she was in me for leaving and not saying goodbye. She was so pissed, she even called my husband who came to my rescue and explained things to her....that it was 3 months to the day that Areila was born, that I was missing her, that family functions will never be the same because we're missing one of our children, and that we were hurt by everyone's thoughtless actions. She cooled down some BUT.... about month later, she told me that I should apologize.

As I said before....I was in a very dark place for weeks and took myself to see a grief therapist who made me feel confident that my actions and feelings weren't foreign or out-of-line. She basically told me that I should not feel obligated to apologize for my grief making others feel uncomfortable. I still tried to put myself in their position and understand why they were so offended. It bothers me that I became the "bad guy" after being the one that suffered a devastating loss. Now, 6 months to the day...I am still "the bad" guy because he has yet to speak to me or stay in the room with me for longer than a couple minutes. Fucked up, huh?

Ok, the other day....my sister and I were discussing my oldest daughter and she stopped the conversation to tell me that she will never forget Areila. Her voice quivered, she sniffled, and had a hard time speaking as she explained to me that she doesnt mention Areila because she doesn't want to upset me but, Areila has helped her to cherish every good and bad moment of parenting her 3 beautiful children and to never ever take a moment for granted. What she said took my breath away because it took almost 6months for her to tell me this. I let her know that Areila is constantly on my mind and mentioning her name might bring tears but it's not because I don't want to speak of her. Yes, thinking about her and mentioning her name still makes me often cry because there is an emptiness in my heart and soul but I need to talk about her....I need others to recognize and remember her. I have a hard time letting others know this.

After speaking to my sister, I realized that I need to communicate my needs to others so that they can understand and support. That's pretty simple but most of the time, I have no fucking clue what I need or what the hell is going on in my mind and heart. Yet another reason why I avoid people....I'm too fucked up to help myself. It's a viscous cycle and some days, I find myself more assertive and can somewhat tell others what I feel and need while on other days, I find myself having to fight back tears as soon as I begin to speak.

So, people will continue to ignore me when I occasionally mention that I had a child die 4 days before her expected delivery date or that I have 3 children, 2 living.... and folks at work will continue to avoid interacting with me so that they don't have to mention my loss. (No need for them to worry....I only leave my classroom for meetings and potty breaks) Our neighbors will continue to avoid us like the plague.... Hell, my poor husband hasn't spoken to the once friendly folks, that live behind us all summer and we will continue to be univited to the yearly gatherings. No one will mention her to us because dammit, what will they say? A simple...."I have no words because I don't know...or perhaps they do know... but, know I'm sorry or I'm thinking of you." Avoiding and ignoring is like saying "fuck you to your family and to your dead baby....glad it's not me." So....I make everyone else comfortable by keeping my distance, avoiding them as much as they avoid me, and staying home as much as possible.... It's kinda difficult when you have a job, and children.

I had no clue that I'd ever take offense to the simple question, "how are you?" People don't really want that answer.... "Well, I cry too fucking much, I don't know what day it is, I don't sleep well, my memory is shot, I walk around in circles most of the day, speaking of circles....have you seen my eyes?....I worry all the time, guilt rests super heavy on my heart, I'm really really fucking angry at myself and the people that were supposed to know better, and I dislike interacting with most people because they don't fucking get it nor do they care to get it."

Oh....and there are triggers. EVERYWHERE. Babies, holidays, sometimes my 3yr old because Areila looked so much like her, families with 3 children, walking through the baby section of stores to get to the toddler section, sometimes even seeing pregnant women because I wonder if they KNOW that babies die or if they will be 'next', tv commercials, billboards, and stupid acting people that feel it necessary to complain about the "normal" and wonderful things that babies do. Oh what I wouldn't give...to be 50lbs heavier, washing poopy diapers, and waking up several times at night to nurse a baby.

My poor husband...I cry everywhere and on several occassions, I've broken down at the dinner table...in restaurants. I really have no control over it because once I get to a certain point....there is absolutely no way that I can stop the tears. I'm pretty sure I'm developing a bit of agoraphobia....crowds cause me to have great anxiety because of the reasons I stated above. One of these days he'll learn and keep my ass at home. Poor guy....

Wah, Wah, Wah...

Short post....

I gave up tv. It's been over 4 months since I've really watched it and I'm truly not missing it at all. Shortly after losing Areila....I would turn the tv on and watch it but I REALLY wasn't watching it most of the time...all I would hear was "wah, wah, wah" and it was watching me! My daughter tells me of movies that she swears we watched and I have 0 memory of watching. If the tv wasn't watching me and I occasionally engaged....I would find myself getting upset over shows like teen mom, 17kids and counting, moms in heels, and the baby commercials that just would always find the perfect time to appear. My husband bought a monstrosity of a tv and I don't even watch it. Its now so pointless to me....

I've been saying that I'm going to watch my favorite show, 'Dexter'. I think 4 episodes have aired and I still haven't watched. One of these days!

I do have to say...I have no fucking clue what's going on in the world. NO CLUE and mostly don't care.... How fucked up is that?

Running out of things....

Shortly after my last post.... My daughter begged me for help...to stop the people and voices from telling her to take her own life and....I had no choice but to take her back to the hospital. How do you lose a child and then have to fight for years to keep another alive? My poor daughter has suffered her whole life...11 years... and its so damn unfair. She's really struggling with life....the loss of her sister...the fact that she has no friends....the fact that she just can't fight the monsters that plague her mind....no child should suffer the way she has.

I respect others' belief in god but I think it's pompous to believe everyone shares their views about god. I know people have good intentions but I just cant hear another person tell me 'god doesn't give you more than you can handle' or 'god will turn things around'. BULLSHIT! There are so many things wrong with those statements! Just fucking WRONG!

I continue to tell myself that I need to hold it together for my family....for my children....
But I'm quickly running out of things to hold me together so that I can hold THEM together....
I'm feeling more than helpless... Mother's are supposed to protect their children and keep them out of harms way...I'm miserably failing ...

Still gotta be Mama

Just a quick post to say....I haven't had the chance to DO things to avoid losing my fucking mind. My daughter has been very suicidal and it seems to only be getting worse. With every hospital admittance, she comes back with even more disturbing thoughts and behaviors. I just watch her closely and pray/hope that her meds...SOMETHING kicks in. Obviously, I will take her back to the hospital if/when I feel like she's totally unmanageable. She saw a new psychiatrist today....hoping THIS is the one that finally gets her to a point where she can have some semblance of a 'normal' childhood.... You know, one where she's happy, has friends, enjoys going places and doesn't think about death the majority of the day.

It's so beyond fucked up that I had one child die and I'm now fighting to keep another alive. I guess keeping my oldest child safe and distracted is a 'thing I do to keep from losing my fucking mind'.....but how much longer will I be able to 'hold it together' before I lose MY fucking mind? Positive thoughts for my beautiful oldest baby girl, please......

Ughh....

My last post is embarassing and shameful.... but it's my fucked up reality! And here is where the guilt comes in....and squeezes my heart so tight. I should't be jealous or hurt when other people get to KEEP their babies. But I am! I'm sure THEY took their pregnancies for granted like I but I doubt that they would have taken it as far as I did. Areila had signs that she was fading and even though that horrible midwife blew me off and basically treated me like I was one of her medicaid patients (which is so fucking wrong, wrong, wrong!)....I should have insited...I should have just gone in to the ER. They would have HAD to monitor me and then they probably would have found that she was in distress and she'd be in my arms right now, and tears and snot would not be streaming down my face as I enter yet another post in this blog....AND.... I wouldn't be living this now, surreal life. Four days....I was four days away. Mothers are supposed to protect their children and advocate for them because they can't....I should not have allowed her to treat me like she did. I shouldn't have been so ignorant to THIS reality. I still can't believe this happened. That I was pregnant for 9 months...that I gave birth to my dead child and life is not REAL anymore.

Today, I was driving on the highway and had no fucking clue where I was.... I seriously couldn't remember where I was..... I knew I was on my way home but my thoughts were once again consuming me and I was on auto-pilot. It wasn't the first time it happened. I often get to my destinations not knowing how in the hell I got there. I guess, this is my life now...foggy....and just not real. But at least I'm mastering 'going through the motions'. I can now smile and laugh and pretend....but it just doesn't feel right.

I can no longer live a carefree life. My mind won't stop thinking of the 'what ifs'. Not only do I continually play the 'what ifs' of almost 6 months ago but the 'what ifs' of my now. Every illness that my children have, send my mind to wandering and battling the negative thoughts that incessantly find their way in. What if these daily tummy aches that my 3yr old has, are something serious that the doctors aren't finding and what if they don't find out something is seriously wrong until it's too late. What if the exhaustion that I carry with me everyday has nothing to do with the fact that my mind won't stop even when my body is supposed to be resting and is something terminal and I die...and my children are left motherless? What if my oldest daughter in unable to battle the mental illness that she's been fighting all her life and it consumes her and.... UGH!!!! It frustrates and angers me when I people tell me I'm "so strong/brave". I'm not brave and I'm not strong! Where does the bravery come in? Because I haven't jumped off a bridge or put myself in a coma with a bottle of Southern Comfort???I'm just doing and going through the motions because I HAVE to....because I have living children and a husband that I love dearly and who need me. Everything changes for a parent after they lose a child. I can't imagine life every being bliss again. I'm aging rapidly.

Yesterday, I auditioned for a band....and I joined a band. They asked me on the spot if I would join their group and I agreed. I'm somewhat kicking myself because as much as music is so important to my life, the genre of music is not where my passions lie. I'm torn because I have nothing else and it WOULD be a somewhat good experience to have this outlet....but I'm not sure if I can be the 'life of the party' for 4hrs a gig. I might come home and pull my hair out....or drink myself into oblivion. I have a degree in theatre but SHIT! I want to be able to put my heart and soul into a song and for others to appreciate and 'feel' MY song. Funk and Disco are good for a set...not a gig. Jazz and Blues is where I find myself....

http://
(This is where I am....these are the lyrics and melodies where I want to put my heart and energy~I have stories to tell and songs to sing~for my baby girl)

Sigh....

I mentioned my battle with anger, hurt....and jealousy. Well, that ugly monster took over today...


My daughter, not thinking that it would bother me, told me today that my older sister had her baby. I very quickly told her that I didn't care.... One of my coping mechanisms has been to avoid situations...conversations...people. My husband made the stupid, stupid, stupid decision, as we were holding and saying our FINAL goodbyes to Areila, to tell me why his 16 yr old son was avoiding him. I assumed he was going to tell me his son was in jail because he was already selling drugs, and in a gang.... Well, it was the other nightmare that I predicted years before.... His girlfriend was 5 months pregnant. REALLY?!!?!?!?!?!??? All I could think was, poor baby....but it hurts my heart knowing that I had a means of providing, caring for, and loving my precious baby and she was taken away from me. Here this poor kid is, being born into a fucked up family....fucked up mother (that looks all of about 12yrs old)....fucked up father that is a gangbanger, weed-head. Yes, young people can turn their lives around and be great parents but the odds are against them and these poor children that they bring in the world. Yet, another situation that made me have great difficulty believing in the 'great and powerful' god.





When my husband, who probably could have been a much more active parent with his own son, told me he wanted a relationship with this baby....it felt like the ultimate betrayal of Areila and me. It's shameful for me to have these feelings and thoughts but it literally felt like I was dying when he told me this. I'm probably wrong for doing this but I asked my husband to not discuss his son, the baby and that situation with me. I told him that I didn't want to know when the baby comes....I'm sure he's here by now but I just can't....and I don't know when/if I'll be able to deal with the whole situation. The timing of this could REALLY not be any worse. Thinking about that situation feels like 100 bricks resting on my heart.




Anyway, going back to my sister.... She has always had a love-hate relationship with me. I think it all stemmed from when my parents divorced when I was just a toddler.....I got to stay with my mother and the rest of my siblings and she didn't. She didn't stay because she wasn't my mother's biological child and my father took her with him when they divorced. My father had custody of her because her mother basically abandoned her and she's spent 38yrs of her life desperate to have a decent and 'normal' relationship with her mother and it has yet to happen. I adored my older sister when I was younger and she was as mean as mean could be to me. Oddly, when things occasionally went down, she stepped up and always had my back if anyone else messed with me....perhaps, to keep me alive so that she could mentally and physically torment me. This continued into adulthood (minus the physical) and up until about a month before I gave birth to Areila, when I said enough was enough. She and her new husband decided to tag team and criticize my parenting (ON FACEBOOK), because I don't believe in "beating my kids til I lose weight". She and her husband are both in the military and have both relied on others to raise their children. I let them know that I found it puzzling that two people who both had to rely on others to raise their children were criticizing my parenting. In fact, my oldest niece spent more time with my father and step-mother than she did with my sister. I played an active role in the raising of my niece...she was my first 'babygirl'. We later found out that my sister CHOSE to be deployed.





Well, when my sister found out that I was pregnant, she of course, had something negative to say about me for wanting one more child. My response was for her to back off because she just got married to a (significantly) younger man and he was going to want children. A month or two later, I found out she was pregnant. My oldest niece is 18 and my sister just had a baby.... yet, she felt it appropriate to talk shit about me, my "old" husband, and my children (mainly my oldest).





I don't wish ill will on anyone and I definitely don't want another family to experience the devastation that mine has but.... FUCK. It's so bittersweet. I'm happy the baby is here and healthy and I'm happy for her but I'm still hurt and angry... She's such a mean spirited person and although I'm not perfect and have many flaws....I try my best to be simply open, compassionate, and caring. Basically, all the things that my sister is not. She got to keep her baby. I know I sound like a child when I say, it's unfair....but IT IS!!!!!







Ok...after I internally processed these shameful and embarassing emotions and thoughts, my daughter showed me the bottom of the mug that I just got finished sipping. There at the bottom of the mug, was a stain in the shape of a heart. She told me it was a sign from Areila.....telling us that she loved us. I'm pretty sure its coincidence....but I do find comfort knowing that there is a possiblity that my precious Areila is with me..... Maybe?

Finding the "new me"...

It's amazing how most people just live their lives, taking just about everything for granted. For example, my neighbors here in 'Pretentia', as I call it, find such satisfaction driving their BMW SUV's, having lush manicured green lawns, housekeepers, pools, living on a golf course and are the coldest, most judgemental assholes out there. They avoid us like the plague now because we're the family with the 'crazy' kid, and now, the 'dead baby'....they'd rather avoid us than associate with us....because, maybe they'll catch our 'shitty life' disease.

I was once that ass.... Well, I wasn't that bad but I did take things for granted. Having a nice big home was somewhat important to me but I could seriously take it or leave it. It used to take a lot to impress me and now....very very very few people's actions and 'things' impress me because most have no true significance or purpose. I love my home because it's now where I find the most love and security.

After my religion post, I bet some of you are thinking I'm just wandering through life with nothing. I remain and probably have become even more spiritual in the last few months. I may not believe in 'god' but I believe that we all have the potential to have those qualities that others see/find in god. Love, compassion, respect, warmth, acceptance, wisdom....all qualities that people can obtain but often find so difficult to maintain.

I also believe in the power of thought. I believe thoughts can turn into energy and that energy can be negative or positive. Some people call positive thoughts, prayer....whatever you call it....I truly believe in its power. Ever work with or live around negative people who seem to drain your energy and if you're not careful, you begin to feel/carry that dark cloud above you.... OR, ever know someone that is perpetually happy...always smiling....always willing to help...or always willing to be there to lift you up and, depending on the type of person you are, you find yourself wanting to be around them so that they can shine some of their light on you? The power of energy....we can't see it but if we truly open our eyes, hearts, minds....we can definitely feel it.

(Proof that we're more than just the bodies that you and I see--My Aura)

There is also an eastern thought that the ego can hinder us from attaining the qualities I mentioned earlier. The ego I'm talking about is more complex that what we 'Westerners' are taught. Things that make up the ego can be selfish desires, careers, education, wealth, pride, 'things', etc.... Basically, the ego represents things that people believe they need, to have fulfilled lives. So, it is said that once the ego is broken down or removed, we and others realize our true selves....the good, loving, caring, open, warm, wise, etc.... 'The Divine'.

I'm at a period in my life where I feel as vulnerable as a person can.....I'm wandering this fucked up world naked with a big fat, open , oozing, 'weeping' wound, covering my body. There's nothing more devastating AND humbling than laboring and birthing a dead child 2 days before she is supposed to be born....ALIVE. I've also been pretty damn humbled with raising a child who has been tormented by her unpredictable and unmanageable emotions since she was (probably) in utero, a child of only 11 yrs, who often battles the negative thoughts and ideas of taking her own life on a way too frequent and now, normal, basis. I fought for many years to keep my oldest child happy, and alive and just when I thought we had a grasp on her stability and just as I was beginning to like me...lightning stuck and took it all away. I have channeled my deepest, most intense thoughts into the tips of my fingers and now, into this blog for the whole fucking world to read and know. I now cry in front of strangers if they catch me on a 'bad day' and ask me about my children because I can't deny my precious baby for others or for my own comfort, or if I'm caught off guard and run into a child around the same age as what Areila SHOULD be, or by simply passing by the baby section of Target. I sometimes feel like the wound that is ME will begin to heal and scab over but life keeps picking at it and it bleeds, weeps, and oozes all over again. One of these days, the wound will heal but I think I will always carry this vulenerability and a big scar.

So...I feel like I have 2 options.... I can continue the rest of my life an angry, and bitter person because I've been dealt a really shitty deck...and oh yes, I have! OR I can take something from this horrible devastation and try to improve me....to SEE, accept, and reciprocate the love and light given to me and to find moments of peace. I think I'm a giver and pleaser....perhaps I'm even selfish but it makes me feel better giving gifts from the heart...whether it be something I made, something I saw and thought someone else would appreciate....a listening ear....or a word of encouragement.

I now wear a Mala (type of rosary) around my neck as a reminder and an aid in my healing and finding peace. During my meditation, I "charged" my mala with a Sanskrit mantra that speaks of a Hindu deity. It is said that reciting this mantra can rid a person of bad kharma and make the ego purer while bringing in healing energy for moving towards enlightenment. Do I believe in these deities? No....but I do believe in the power of the words and I admire the qualities that they possess. The stones in my mala are also said to emit healing energy for soothing emotions. So...yep, I think I just about have all bases covered.

I'm not a wordsmith and find it difficult organizing my thoughts so they are at a minimum of semi-coherent (ramblings of the insane) but here it goes. There is another thought out there, that says, the spirit comes back to live in this world many times.... to learn, grow and evolve, and eventually, once the spirit has learned all the lessons of living in this world, ithere is no need to return. The thought goes on to say that our spirits choose the life it will live, before it actually enters the body of this world. Ever have a deja vu or dreams that predict places and events, only to have them actually come true. (Perhaps my dream predicting Areila's death will be the topic of a future post.) They say these experiences are reminders that you are on the right path for this life....syncronicity. I REALLY have a hard time believing that MY spirit chose THIS life and Areila's spirit chose one that ended before it entirely entered THIS world....BUT, as I stated in a previous post....we don't REALLY know....but I remain open to the positive and remain willing to learn from this fucknuttery I call life. I guess, I don't really have a choice...

I have to say, I'm still...human. I still battle with frustration....I still battle with anger....I still battle with jealousy when I see pictures of the babies of my friends who were pregnant with me but they got to keep their babies....I still don't know how to explain to my children what happened and why their sister isn't with them. I still let the negative and fucked up world bring me down. These feelings and thoughts literally take my breath away and bring me to my knees....they're overwhelming and unavoidable.

(new me---with age lines and black eyes)

I find it difficult navigating through the fog of my 'new life' and living in the 'now'. My mind goes about 10,000 miles a minute but sometimes things stop me in my tracks and the fog lifts a bit. I hold my children so much tighter. I watch and try to savor every little cute and not-so-cute moment. I love deeper. I appreciate more. Butterflies have never been so beautiful and I've never truly appreciated the melodies of songbirds more than NOW.

Shallots...Garam Masala...Ginger...lemongrass..Coconut milk...un petit de Vin....and a little Krishna Das

(My latest kitchen toy)

I've always enjoyed cooking but when I was pregnant....the smell of food had me laid out for the night. For 6 weeks after losing Areila I couldn't eat.... It started in the hospital...I remember listening to my family and midwife go on and on about how I "needed to eat" but I just couldnt. I just COULD NOT eat....other than a graham cracker or carrot here and there. I don't know how I didn't pass out...I don't know what kept me going. I'm here to tell you....a person can live a VERY long time w/o food! I still have difficulty with eating but I do it....I make sure to eat dinner with the family.

Yeah...I've got a diet for you....It's called the 'dead baby diet'. Your whole fucking life gets turned upside down, and all sense of control and security is taken away....and your left with total emptiness....does wonders for the figure. I probably lost 40lbs (baby weight included)the first 2 months and another 15+ in the following 2 months. My evil aunt who didn't even send a condolence card made it a point to tell me "how good I looked....sorry for your loss but you look really, really good." REALLY....thanks...so, I guess it was worth losing a child so I could get back down to my high school weight...huh? FUCK OFF. I'd gladly be even 100lbs heavier if it meant I could have my breathing, living, healthy baby back in my arms!

(Eggplant and ricotta rolls with roasted Asparagus...mmmm)

(Summer Rattatouille)


(Coq au Vin---good schtuff)

So, back to food.... I began cooking...again. I spend A LOT of time cooking. It's totally cathartic for me. I get in my zone, put on a little Krishna Das....and cook. When I'm REALLY stressed I cook LONG meals....like Indian. Indian food takes a very long time to prepare and cook and my family LOVES Indian.

(Pulao, Chicken Tikka Masala, grilled eggplant and fried bananas) (I cook and Larry cleans the kitchen---poor guy...

this is what happens when I cook Indian)




(Again, poor guy)


I've also been working on perfecting my cupcakes with booze recipes. Southern comfort, Strawberry Margarita, and Coconut~Rum.....

A lil somethin' new....

On a lighter note, I did a little redecorating. I bought some new curtains for our bedroom, finally hung a picture that we've had sitting in our room for about a year, and made a headboard for the bed that I bought while I was pregnant. We had a sleep number that we bought during my pregnancy with my 3yr old and it was an expensive piece of shit. So, after many painful and sleepless nights on my hips....I decided to put a memory foam bed on my credit card. I was also thinking that we needed a larger bed since we'd probably end up with 2 children in our bed by the end of the night. BEST INVESTMENT!!!!!





So, we got a door, I padded it with batting and covered it with fabric and voila....a headboard. So, now our bedroom has a warm and dare I say, peaceful feel....a great place for meditation!




Can't see it here but on my nightstand is my favorite of Areila...

With my own kind....

Today was Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness/Rememberance Day and a local bereavement center put on a lovely memorial service where they read the names of our precious children, allowed us to light candles and just be among people who truly know and understand.

One of the ladies speaking said something that has played a huge role in the making of my 'new (and developing) normal'. She said something like, "we lost family members only to find new family with those that have suffered the same heartache". Ok...so this is far from verbatim BUT it's the jist. She is so right.... I'm so angry that I had to meet and come to know such amazing people but I'm so damn glad they're in my life. It brings me a bit of 'peace' to know that there are people who you don't feel SO self-conscious about crying in front of....people who know that a 'good' day for us is just 'ok' day because we've only cried for 15mins. out of the day...people that you don't feel guilty smiling and laughing in front of....and people, who you're not jealous of because THEY too have children that are not all living and because of the hell that they've been through, 'deserve' their babies more than others (sick, right?). It's also nice to be around people who don't care and understand it if you've not combed your hair, cleaned your house, showered, or gotten out of your pajamas for several days.

It was also nice to not feel like I had to hide or protect my husband from my tears. I let them flow, I allowed him to comfort me...and I felt even closer to the man that I married 4 1/2 yrs ago, the man that fathered my two beautiful girls, the man that supports me in most of what I do....the man that I share a loss that only he, I, and that small group of people that I now call friends, know. I love him in a way, and on a level that many couples don't share, and will never know.

I'm now 5 months from my loss and I've already made some wonderful connections with people that I hope to continue lifelong relationships. These people keep me going....and we hold each other's hands as we wander through our new, dark and foggy worlds.

Tonight I lit a candle for my precious Areila.... and for all the other babies whose lives ended too soon...

I had to do it....

So, I'm having to sip on a little rum and diet to get this post going... Trying to figure out where to begin....

I guess, as it relates to my 'now',....I'll begin with the day that I gave birth to Areila, my mother came to the hospital. She was my last visitor because she was the caretaker of my 97yr old grandmother up until a few months ago. Anyway, the l&d nurse asked me if we wanted a pastor to visit or have Areila baptized and to me, the question was ridiculous but my mother questioned me when I declined any clergy from visiting. Areila's lively spirit left her perfect little body before her body left mine. What would be the purpose of baptizing her? Would 'god' not let her in his/her 'kingdom'? An innocent child....really?!?!?!?

I cannot BEGIN to tell you the fucknuttery that I've heard since I lost Areila...in regards to religion. FYI for folks that call themselves religious...telling a mother that their dead child is in a better place....or god wanted her back....calling her death a 'homegoing' or other such fucked up shit is NOT comforting. In fact....it makes me angry and makes me REALLY dislike god. Oh... but my favorite of all time is.... 'god wouldn't give your more than he thinks you can handle'. REALLY!?!?!? Because I REALLY can't handle my life right now....really. I feel like I'm sinking and a horrible mother and wife on a daily basis. Thanks god, but put this shit on someone who carelessly abuses their body and who doesn't seem to care about others because I genuinely care for others, I love my family, and I want more than anything for all of my children to be living, happy and healthy. I have 3 children and only one is all three--living, happy, and healthy!

Two people, and surprisingly, mothers who lost babies as well....told me the most troubling and sick shit I've ever heard. One told me 'the devil took my baby' and the other told me 'god was punishing me for my wrongdoings'. REALLY?!?!?!?...because there are women who abuse their children and allow men to abuse and molest their children, yet many of them continue to have beautiful healthy babies for either themselves or others to continue fucking up. Why aren't they being 'punished'? People throw their babies in dumpsters, molest, and murder their children, etc..... and yet 'god' keeps 'giving' them more innocent lives to destroy. Now, I've done some destructive things in my life that I'm not proud of but nothing....NOTHING has come anywhere as close to equaling the devastation of losing a child.

Here is one that REALLY gets to me....a family member sent me something that she found comfort in but only made me angry. I think it was from the blog of a woman that lost her child to stillbirth and she found solace knowing that god basically sacrificed his own son and that we should know that 'god cries with us'. HUH?!?!!?!?!?!??? Call me selfish but sorry....not a chance....not over MY dead body will I EVER, EVER, EVER intentionally put my children in harms way!!!! Is the world REALLY a better place because god sacrificed his child...or is he/she thinking....woah, I fucked up. Look at all the horrible atrocities that have occured throughout history in the name of religion and Christianity. WHATEVER....

My oldest daughter is very angry with god right now and her thoughts are also, my own, but I don't want to drag her into my world and taint her with my beliefs, so I keep my mouth shut and just listen when she talks about her frustration with god. No one has been able to explain to me why, if god is so darn powerful....he/she inflicts such devastation and pain on people....undeserving people. Babies and children just should not die.....I keep saying it...and it sounds so simple-minded. What points are there to prove? If god is as powerful as others believe he/she is....then why does he/she allow bad things to happen to good people and good things happen to bad. It makes no sense and there is no rhyme or reason.

I was on the fence with my faith before my loss but hearing all of the fucked up religious bullshit, has taken me right on over. I like to think that if god exists...he/she is like the 'wizard of oz'. People think he/she is so powerful but he/she is nothing more than a man/woman behind the curtain...watching the Universe do its thing... unable to do or change anything....but maybe the only power he/she possesses is immortality. Even that sounds like a curse right about now.

So, I've officially given up religion. (This might be a challenge, since my husband shares Jehovah Witnesses' beliefs) I know for some, having stronger faith has changed their lives and kept them from sinking....as for me, I've witnessed too much of the judgement, negativity, hypocrisy and hate that religion has brought to many. I can possess and teach my children about love, oppenness, respect, and compassion without being controlled by man's often harmful mythology. However, I will teach my children about the different religions of the world and allow them to follow the beliefs of their choice...after all, the premise of all religions is what I stated above---love, compassion, openness, respect.....

Yes, Jesus was a loving, compassionate, and self-less person....so was Muhammed, Eleos, Moses, Hanuman, Buddha, etc.... These figures are a part of every culture and religion since the beginning... I'm tired and can't think of others so feel free to throw in some more names....or judge me and call me crazy for my beliefs...whatever.

I had some Jehovah's Witnesses come to my door a little over a month ago and I've NEVER been more glad to have them tapping on my door. Surpringly, my husband went to the basement and left me to deal with them. I literally RAN to the door because it was MY opportunity to kindly tell them to shove their religious, door-to-door, sales pitch up their ass. It was surprisingly a caucasian man with a black woman (I've NEVER had any white JW come to my door)....anyway, he asked me...'do you ever wonder why bad things happen to good people'. My breath was taken away.....it was my lucky fucking day!!!!! I replied...'why yes....I had a baby die a few months ago...there is no explanation for that.' I totally caught them off-guard and he tried to talk about his brother who died from pancreatic cancer...but my response was, 'I'm so sorry to hear about your brother because I hear pancreatic cancer is terrible but there is no reason...none...for god to allow babies to die'. So, they whip out the bible....and I basically told him that I was unimpressed with their mythology....that I thought it was quite pompous for them to think that THEIR book is the ONLY 'truth' and words of 'god'.....I also let them know that my family is versed on many books of faith and I teach my children to have (again) love, respect, openness and compassion for all people. So the guy tells me about his 'conversations with his Jewish friends'. I acted very unimpressed and all they could basically say was, they were sorry and that he'd return with his wife. WHATEVER! Next time....I'll ask if they 'want to hold my daughter', and put the urn in their hands and see how well they discuss the topic of 'why god allows bad things to happen to good people.' That encounter put a tiny smile on my face.....sick, huh?

So, I put this question out there.....instead of trying to convince yourself and others that there is only one explanation to life and death and everything in between....why not just admit that you don't really know? Why not be open to what is out there...and what isn't?

How did they ever....

get over it?? It's such a ridiculous and stupid question because I know that you can NEVER GET OVER IT. The rule of the Universe is..... a person gets old and dies BEFORE their children. Perhaps, this is my fucked up thinking and NOT a rule but it's how it should be and why I have such difficulty with god, his/her existence and power, and why suffering even occurs. To be honest...I cannot think of anything worse than burying a child. Really nothing. It just should NOT happen....PERIOD.





I often think about my grandparents on both sides, who both lost children. My maternal grandmother lost her son to something terminal like cancer at around 4-5yrs old. She very rarely spoke about him to me and never felt the need to include him. I do realize that was 65+yrs ago when women were expected to grieve for a week or two and 'move on'. But I wonder....did she change? Was she as fucked up as I think I am? How did she function? Did part of herself die when her precious son died?




My paternal grandmother spoke of her daughter who died of congential heart disease often. She, my father, aunts and uncles would often speak of her and how much I reminded them of her. I guess she was a wild one like I once was and many say that I look like her.


I wish I could ask them how they managed to pick up the pieces...and continue living. I'm living but I'm not LIVING. I'm more...going through the motions but I'm not present in my life. I feel like half of a daughter....sister....wife....mother and I struggle with giving my living children what I feel they need, while parenting and honoring my dead child. Everyone else has appeared to 'move on'....and I can't...nor do I want to. Areila deserves my love and my tears....and my longing to have her in my arms. My paternal grandmother passed away over 15yrs ago and my maternal grandmother is 97 and not always in the present. Fuck...I guess I'm not either.












Here is a picture of my paternal aunt, Pat. She passed away in her early twenties. I finally saw this picture of her for the first time, a week ago and it felt so good. I wish my family included her pictures and memories in their everyday lives. She deserved it! I see myself and my oldest daughter in her.

F****************************ck, that hurts....

I had been wanting to get a new tattoo and something to memorialize my precious baby girl but I wasn't sure of what I wanted to get. Tattoos are permanent, ya know?

So, as I began getting more in-tuned with my spiritual self, and reading, and trying to find ways to distract myself....from myself....I had a true epiphany. I decided on peace. You absolutely CANNOT go wrong with peace. Everyone can use peace...within themselves and within this crazy, fucked up, sometimes horrible world that we live in. Of course, being who I am, I couldn't get a boring old, 'peace' in English. So, I decided on 'Shanti'.....which is peace in Sanskrit. Forgot to mention....I went back to meditation along with my yoga (they truly go hand-in-hand) and began researching Sanskrit (Eastern language and one of the oldest) mantras to use with my meditation. It all came together and took a ride to my favorite 'ink spot' and I got a tattoo.

Yeah, on my foot and it hurt like hell but shit....so did pushing out my perfect little lifeless baby. I think 1/2hour of cat scratches is far more bearable than 24hrs of horrible, wretched labor, and having absolutely nothing to look forward to in the end. Gosh, I still CANNOT believe this is my life. Anyway, I chose to put it on my foot because I want to carry peace and I want to enter and leave in peace. It is something that I know I will always be working towards. How can you find peace after something so absolutely horrible strikes? I chose my left foot because in yoga, the left side always leads.

My 3yr old thinks mommy's 'Shanti/Peace' tattoo is pretty cool and decided she wanted one just like mommy. She also curses like a sailor just like mommy and knows the EXACT time to drop an f-bomb or yell out 'these damn crayons....what the hell is wrong with them?' in frustration. Funny how the things that would make you gasp and scramble to correct, now are so damn minuscule. I just hope that the next time she decides to 'tattoo' herself, she doesn't use permanent marker.

Om

While at Kripalu, I took several yoga classes....gosh, guess I should have, considering it is a center for yoga and health. It felt so good to go back to my practice and it was something that I decided I was going to make a lifetime commitment doing. So....I went back to yoga.

Yoga is the only time that I can temporarily pause my thoughts. It's the only time that I can stop the crazy dialogue in mind.....the repetitive and incessant "4 days, you were only 4 days away, I can't believe this is my life....this is my fucking life. You gave birth to your dead baby. You were only 4 days away....what now? If only you would have gone in. You should have pushed...you should have insisted. 4 days....you were only 4 days away. WHAT THE FUCK?" It's while doing yoga that the fog lifts a little and there is a little more clarity. The heaviness of my heart and hollow feeling of my arms somewhat fades. Now, it's while in savasana (corpse pose) when my mind begins to wander again and the dialogue starts all over again....and no matter how hard I fight it the tears tend to well up and flow. The phsyical triggers the emotional.

What was so nice is....one of the places where I practiced yoga was looking for people to work their front desk in exchange for free unlimited yoga. I had to act on it...and I did.... What a great opportunity! Well, I did it for 4 months and they suddenly decided yesterday to do away with their desk yogis and now, I'm stuck having to pay for classes. DAMN! Because of everything that's happened with my oldest daughter....I haven't been to class in 2 weeks. I miss and need my practice.... Now, to put it in my budget to go 3 times a week....shit!

A New Family Member

Well, my husband and I decided shortly after the Universe shit on us once again, to get a kitten. I kept thinking to myself, that our cat needed to nurture a kitten...that she's missing something. Well, cats aren't humans and I really doubt that she felt much loss. It's we humans that are fucked up for life after a child dies. I kinda wish I was a cat. Ideally, we would have welcomed orphaned kittens in hopes that our Gnocchi's mothering instincts would kick in and she'd nurse and care for them. The humane society didn't recommend it because of disease. Good point.

So, the family and I jumped in the car and went up to the humane society. My husband and I agreed that we both liked black cats so that's what we set out to find.

My oldest daughter recently had a hospitalization due to emotional instability and was doing so well but the loss of the kittens really hit her hard. We thought that having a new furry family member would take our minds off of how fucked up our lives have become. Well, when we got ready to pull out of the garage, I turned around to find my oldest daughter with sunglasses on and her head in her hands, sobbing. I thought to myself...."OH NO....please not again!" I asked her what was wrong and she couldn't verbalize it....just sobbed. When we got the humane society....all she could do was sob and that lasted for about 3hours straight. She kept yelling about how mad she was at god..."how could this have happened...again?". "If god existed, he wouldn't allow bad things to happen". It was so difficult for me to explain or even talk her out of.....I FEEL THE SAME FUCKING WAY!!! I told her that if she choses to not to believe in god, then she had to stop complaining and just accept the fact that these things just happened and no one is responsible. I know it's a lot for an 11yr old to grasp....it's often beyond me!

Anyway, after the 3hrs of sobbing....she went in between sobbing and laughing hysterically and uncontrollably. I felt so helpless.... I had no idea what to do for her.... The previous week, her father went in threatening her psychiatrist and told her that there was nothing wrong with my daughter. There's a court order stating that he has no medical rights to my daughter because he's interfered in the past....trying to get full custody of her. The courts made no changes....I remain the custodial parent but I spent a year in court and thousands of dollars. Anyway, her psychiatrist changed her plan of treatment while my daughter was admitted into the hospital the week before.... They took her off of 3 medications and started her on 1 new one in a matter of 2 1/2 days and discharged her. SO WRONG! Because of her father's interference, her psychiatrist told me that she wasn't prescribing any other medication until her father and I went to counseling. Ok....I've gone to counseling with him, trying to get on the same page, several times without success. Her father is too undisciplined or too self-centered to help his child.

Well, the cat that we wanted was in foster care and we made arrangements to pick him up the next day. The next day came and my daughter was even more unstable. Her father made arrangements to pick her up and I knew that he would be beside himself with her. 4 minutes...4 minutes into the ride he called me, and I could hear her in the background, to tell me how difficult she was being for him. My response was..."there's nothing wrong with her...remember? and...good luck"! I had already warned my mother to not give in and bail him out like she normally did when my daughter was having a crisis. I'm so proud of her because he called and she went off on him. He called me asking to bring her back home and I told him that she was too unstable to bring back, raging at that time of day and if he thought she was doing so poorly, to take her to the hospital.... and he did. WOW!

We were there for 11 1/2 hours before they transferred her and admitted her to another hospital because they were full. He began lecturing and arguing with our unstable child and I just about lost my mind. There is no reasoning with him and no reasoning with my daughter when she is unstable. I guess the apple don't fall far from the tree. He, of course, made it about himself once again and began crying as she was talking out of her head. All I could think was REALLY!?!?!? This isn't new behavior...I've grown quite numb to it!!! You horrible fucking person that made your child suffer for years, fighting her mother, talking shit about her mother, telling your child there was nothing wrong with her when she knew that she was unwell and suffering...and you're going to sit here and cry??? Shame on you...asshole!!! She's been in the hospital for 1week now. She entered extremely depressed and it made my heart ache for her to be so miserable and unhappy.... Well, now, she's on the opposite end, and manic.....so, they're trying to get her somewhere in between so that she doesn't come home and crash. Needless to say, we're working on a new psych....that experience was torturous for my daughter and the rest of the family. Prayers and positive thoughts for my beautiful (inside and out) big baby girl, please.

I got a kitty. Ok....here is our little guy. He has brought a little sunshine to our lives! So much fun and so much personality. His name is Bodhi... Bodhi is actually a kind of tree and it is said that Buddha sat under a Bodhi tree and had an awakening and gained enlightenment.

REALLY?!?!?!??? You've got to be fucking kidding me!!!

So...today our cat went into labor and we were more than excited about having the pitter patter of little kitten feet in our home. She is a purebred Siberian and my mother got one of the same breed because they are hypo-allergenic and we have many allergic family members. We hoped to breed them once as soon as Gnocchi turned a year we planned a "hook up.

Ever heard or seen cats mating....the sight and the noise...it's a trip! The first breeding session didn't "take" so we invited my mom's handsome cat in for round 2 and he was MORE than happy to get freaky with our little seductress, Gnocchi. Second time seemed to take and we quickly noticed an increase in her appetite and her nipples getting full. It was a good thing that she became pregnant because my mother's male cat got a taste of the good stuff and started running out, chasing tail. So, she had him neutered and that seemed to calm him down.


A couple days before she went into labor, she became VERY vocal and even more affectionate. She drove our poor dog crazy....howling and rubbing up against him. I prepared a couple beds for her in places that I thought she might want to give birth and we just waited for her to do her thing. The vet told us to leave the house when she goes in labor....that cats know what to do. Well, when we woke up this morning, there was NO WAY we were leaving the house. She wanted us there and kept on leading us to the basement where I put together a bed and blankets in a crate. When she finally got me downstairs....she began to howl loudly and push....it was exciting and something I never experienced. However, I had the "what if...." replaying in my mind. I saw something hanging out of her and it appeared to be a tail or a foot....and it looked black. I called my mom to tell her....because we both wanted a black cat. Gnocchi seemed to be having difficulty and working really hard to give birth but I sat there watching and hoping things were alright....but still replaying the "what if..." Well, she turned her back to me and after one very audible push and loud meow, I noticed she was cleaning something....I called my mom because she was waiting by the phone to get good news....then I noticed that the kitten wasn't moving. I knew it! I fucking knew it.... I don't know how I know, but I did. The kitten was not breathing....dead. She bit the umbilical cord and ate the placenta....continued to lick it but the poor, sweet thing was gone.

I called a vet to see if I should leave the kitten there with her or remove it and they told me to remove it. The kitty looked just like its' dad...dark gray with a a light gray belly. My husband was going to put it out the with trash but I told him that I'd like to have him/her buried in Areila's garden. So...weather permitting, we will bury the sweet little thing tomorrow.

After I took the one kitten away, she just curled up and fell asleep. There were no signs that she was contracting or the labor was continuing so I called back to the vet....they told us to wait a couple and see what happened before we went in. I sat there looking at her as my husband read cat-birth stories from the internet. After over an hour, I decided that it was time to take her in.... I was hopeful but in the back of my mind, I was still thinking the worst. They gave me a quote of $400+ for x-rays and bloodwork and I thought...are you fucking kidding...and what if there are no more living babies?!!? So, I asked the vet to feel her belly and he said he thought there might be one left. He went on to tell me about his wife who just delivered twins and how after the birth of 1....the 2nd is usually not far behind it. Well, I of course wanted to tell him..."gee, thanks for that bit of wonderful fucking information...just tell me there is only one fucking kitten and I'll go home with the money I started off with!" I called my husband and decided to go for the x-ray. I waited and walked and came back 1/2 later for the vet to come in and tell me..."good news". He told me there were no kittens and how strange it was that she only had one that was stillborn. I basically told him it was just my luck...I had a full-term stillborn baby....why wouldn't my cat?

Anyway, I brought poor Gnocchi home and we put her in the basement to finish birthing whatever was left. She really wanted to be with us.... My husband had to explain to my youngest, once again, that there are no babies. My oldest daughter called from her dad's house asking about the kittens and I told her. She began crying and rushed off the phone. I have to tell ya.... I feel like I must have been one rotten person in my previous life and it's all coming back at me at one time in this life. I've been to hell and hopefully on my way back dealing with my oldest daughter's mental illness (she just had another hospitalization this week) http://www.hopeforserenity.blogspot.com/ , my third child dies 4 days before her induction date....and now my fucking cat delivers one kitten and he/she is stillborn. REALLY!?!?!?!?

My poor husband told me today that this was the second time that we basically lied to our daughters about babies being born. We both agreed that we wont prepare them.... basically, we'll hope for the best but expect the worst when it comes to new life and our family. Is this a way to live!?!? Is this what we've come to??? I know I keep saying it but.... I can't believe that this is my fucking life!!!

What can I do to keep from losing my fucking mind?!?!?!?!?