Um, wow.

I got way too drunk last night. My husband found me in the computer room, crying my eyes out, drunk as hell, and made me come to bed.

I’m not particularly proud of it and it’s certainly not the healthiest way to deal with things if that’s the way they are dealt with all the time, but I actually think I needed it. It was like something stuck in my finger; a splinter that was causing an infection, and I had to yank it out.

I don’t think that’s a very good metaphor but it’s all I have at the moment.

Ha What?

It’s 7:00 in the morning, and I’m drunk off my ass.

Do I care? Not really. I was supposed to have my frigging baby today.

I’m drunk off my ass, it’s 7:00 AM, and I DON’T FRIGGING CARE.

I have told everyone that would possibly listen today in chatrooms about my baby today.

Melodramatic? Maybe.



I. Fucking. Hate. It.

I’m going to stay up all day. I don’t even fucking care.

It’s 7 A.M. and I am not even tired.

I miss you so fucking much.


In the water

It honestly feels sometimes like every single woman on the face of this earth is pregnant, but me.

I was wandering around Facebook and was looking at some new pictures that the little sister of an old friend of mine had added, and lo and behold, saw my old friend Michelle posing, pregnant, with her husband.

It just seems like everyone is getting their babies but me. Why did I have to lose mine? I should be having my baby shower, I should be getting huge and fat, feeling baby kick.. I should be due in about 6 weeks. But I’m not. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.

And I frigging hate it. Why did this have to happen to me? I am not one for self pity, but this is just one thing I can’t shake. It’s been 6 months since I lost the baby, and I’m still sad about it. I still think, “Why?” I still get sad when I see pregnant women. When someone I know gets pregnant, it still hurts.

When is it going to be my turn? For REAL this time? Not, “Oh! You’re pregnant. Wait, nevermind, no you’re not. BACK TO SQUARE ONE.”


It’s not like me to be this upset at someone’s good news. I’m sure R is thrilled to be pregnant, but this is one case where I cannot find it in myself to be happy for her. This hurts me. Another coworker of mine, C, is around 12 weeks, I think, and I’m ecstatic for her.. She and her husband have been trying for almost 3 years to get pregnant, and she finally is. That’s wonderful..

This girl, on the other hand.. I’m just having such a hard time with this. I wouldn’t wish a miscarriage on anyone, don’t get me wrong. It just seems so unjust, and so unfair that she, who rushed into a relationship, a marriage, and a pregnancy, is pregnant and Josh and I… We waited longer than we wanted to, to make sure we were 100% ready, and we lose our precious baby. I know that our miscarriage was “easier” than a lot of others.. It only took us one try to get pregnant, we didn’t struggle with infertility. I lost the baby early, at 7 weeks, and I miscarried naturally and completely, without any complications. Sometimes I don’t feel like I have a right to complain about my miscarriage, but damnit, this hurts. I feel like stamping my feet, and declaring to the world how unfair this is, like a child.

I feel guilty for having these feelings. Who am I to say she is undeserving of a child? It’s not my place to have these feelings. But I just cannot help it. I miss my baby so much, I wanted that baby for so long. I still want that baby. I’m trying so hard to focus on my weight loss, to think about my body and how good it feels right now; how good it feels to be getting back into shape. Thinking about the muscles that are becoming more prominent in my arms, in my abs.. The fact that my pants are almost falling off of me. But right now, my brain is stubbornly wanting to cling to this girl being pregnant, and I just cannot stop crying.

I know that most likely, no one ever reads this. And that’s okay. Sometimes, I just need to vent, to write, to be angry and sad, and jealous without judgement. It’s not like me to feel like this. I try so hard to be happy, to be grateful for what I have and not what I don’t.. But this is just hitting me really, really hard.


I have confessions to make about my miscarriage.

When I got pregnant, the only regret that I had was that I wasn’t a healthier weight, and more in shape. I remember vocalizing this. And I confess that there is a part of me that wonders if someone heard my lament, and decided to give me that chance to lose weight by taking away my baby.

I confess that I wonder if I am too negative, and that I don’t treat others with enough positivity. I have wondered if that negativity came back around and was a cause for my miscarriage.

I confess that I feel guilty that my body couldn’t support my baby.

I confess that I wonder if my baby could feel the love that I had for him. I confess that I wonder if he felt pain when my body rejected him.

I confess that I feel immensely guilty for flushing my baby down the toilet when I miscarried him. Like a fish. I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to save the “products of conception” as people so eloquently put it, because I couldn’t bear the thought of keeping my baby in the refrigerator like a science project.

I confess that I wish I’d have been able to look at my baby when I miscarried him for longer. I couldn’t stand to look.

I confess that sometimes I feel like I hurt worse than anyone else that’s suffered this kind of loss. I know that I don’t, but sometimes I feel like I do.

I confess that I worry that I won’t be as excited the next time I get pregnant.

I confess that I get irritated with pregnant women who complain about how horrible being pregnant is. You think that throwing up, swollen feet, sleepless nights are bad? Try seeing your baby’s heartbeat, and then three days later, suffering horrible cramps, accompanied by huge clots of blood and tissue, and then wiping when you go to the bathroom only to find the embryo on your toilet paper. Nausea and weight gain doesn’t seem so bad now, does it?

I confess that I feel a twinge of jealousy every time I see a pregnant woman. Every. Single. Time.

I confess that I don’t want advice, words of wisdom, or any of that shit from my friends who are pregnant, have been pregnant without complications, or have new babies. I don’t want to hear any of that crap from women who have not been in my shoes before. If you have not ever lost a child, or had a miscarriage, then don’t tell me “Everything happens for a reason,” or “It will happen when it’s meant to happen,” or, “God doesn’t make mistakes”. I understand that your intentions are good, but honestly, just keep it to yourself.

I confess that I worry if I am physically able to carry a healthy baby to term, even though I’ve only suffered one miscarriage, and really have no reason to worry that.

I confess that I miss you every single day. Every day. You were only with me for a few weeks, but I loved you just as much as if you had been there the whole nine months.