Friday, April 30, 2010


I'm feeling better, emotionally. A little more stable, anyway. Maybe more angry.

I still feel things bubbling up behind my eyes, catching in my throat just a bit, but that's only when I stop and think.

I just saw a link to some hahoo news or something about some bicycling champion who overcame the odds with cancer is expecting his 5th child. Sometime in October, I believe.

Fucking cancer. 5 babies.

3 or 4 months along, no sweat. See you in October.

Maybe I do just need to get over it.

I'm bitter. Sometimes it's the inital reaction, and then I'm thrilled for whoever it is who is reproducing. Sometimes it's the reverse. I'm thrilled, but then comes what C calls the hangover. (He says he feels this particularly after playing with/enjoying the children of friends. It's so wonderfully sweet, and then comes reality, or... well, something.) I get that, too.

Fucking sucks.

Okay, file this under getting the worrying in nice and early: Baby Shower.

There will, no doubt, be at least one shower for the newcomer. Do I say something now about, well, as thrilled as I am for them, I don't know what shape I'm going to be in when that time comes? That baby showers are particularly hard for the IF and DBMs? After the whole bridesmaid and bridal shower thing, how do I make it clear that this reluctance is more about me then about them?

Just thinking about this makes me want to puke.

I'm sure there will be some talk, probably, about how I was right there on the plane to welcome A's baby, but somehow I can't handle a baby shower? The idea that I was in a different place then from where I am now, will that sink in or just be dismissed as favoritism so resentment can settle in.

Yeah, I like to get my worrying in early.

Well, now I'm off to the Financial Aid office so I can figure out what our options will be this year when it appears that I will not be getting an assistantship, at least not from my department. Times are tight, and my classwork will be done. Hard to justify comps and diss hours when others are taking a full load of coursework. Hoping for a poverty deferral on my loans if I have to cut way back.

So, you know, there goes babymaking, or even saving for it for a little while. Our couples counselor things we should just put all the babymaking stuff on hold until we get our shit together more. (read, I am more stable and happy.) 11 weeks till I'm 40. So. That's fun.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Small Redemption

At 1:27 am, an email came in from my brother. He thanked me for being supportive, and said that he knows it isn't easy for me.

When I talked with him on the phone earlier, I joked that it was time to be a man, time to "grow the fuck up."

One very tiny step towards man-kind. Well, let's hope.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Since she put it on FB

Here's a picture of my beautiful niece, for a short time only....

And the hits just keep coming

The meds have been helping. Really, I've been feeling a *little* better, a little more functional. Really. My sister even noticed it on the phone tonight.

On my way home from class tonight, I called my sister just a quick call, but the call-waiting rang through. I ignored because I was driving. When I got home I see it's from my brother. This is classic. Somehow, they each know when I"m talking to the other.

His message is short; I know *something's* up.

She's pregnant. His wife. Due in early November.

Was this an accident? On purpose? Don't know, didn't ask. I was full of congratulations -- I could hear such happiness and excitement in his voice. Truly, wishing them well, wishing them a boring 6 more months, the whole thing... And I meant it. mostly.

Even as I was saying it, it was kind of an out of body experience.

After I hung up with him, reality settles in. (C says, "take a pill before this fully settles.")

He's not telling my sister yet. So, yeah, great, we get to play triangulation again, since they are barely on speaking terms. Great!! Maybe I'll divorce the family and everyone else can go screw and I won't be everyone's weird aunt. I wouldn't even be the good kind of weird.

I called my shrink, and her first words? "Oh, Dear." Yeah. No time for an extra session.

This is the last week of classes. I have work to do. Things to prepare. Grades to give.


Friday, April 23, 2010

When did I become this person?**

sad. bitter. angry. resentful.

No, I know that's not all I am. And, honestly, I've been better, done better. Done better at containing it, or rather, what? airing it, or what's the word? Like letting air out of a balloon, just a little bit before it pops from the pressure.

It seems that my first inclination was always, okay, often, to be happy for people. Wonderful news, wonderful opportunity, wonderful...wonderful.

I think of myself first these days, or immediately second. seems to be the case. How nice for you! I am genuinely happy for others. Genuinely glad that they have their accomplishment, their opportunity, their good fortune. They have worked hard, they are good, smart, deserving people. I know this. I know this. I love them and I'm happy to see them have these experiences. I am. I really am.

How nice for them. So glad they get to ___________!

See? It only goes so far. then there's a tone. bitter. a twinge. Okay, more than a twinge.

I picture myself an old wrinkled, grey, bent-over woman, like the old crone in sleeping beauty who offers her the poison apple.

And it passes, and I can let go of the bitter for a while longer, long enough to enjoy or celebrate with my friend/colleague/acquaintance.

And then later, I'm left with all these mixed feelings. Tamped down like wet sand or snow with a shovel. Down. packed down hard. It twinges a little, but I can keep moving.

I hate myself for this.

And I wonder how long it will last. This trip to Holland, while longing for Rome. Resenting Rome while I put fresh tulips in a glass on my window sill. Cat dozing on the floor in a sunbeam. Dog sighing in her sleep.

Will there always be a twinge?

Okay, yes, I know right now I do not know what the future holds. Things can change. I have to deal with the now.

I feel like all i do is wish. long. ache.

I have so much. I know I do.

I heard on some TV show a long time ago that depression or grief is just longing for a broken dream, a life or event or something that didn't work out. Not being able to let go of it.


Thursday, April 22, 2010


Dr. Shrink says the levels of the Rx in my blood are in a good place and I *should* be feeling better soon. Of course I should call again if it gets bad again.

More intensive therapy, possibly, if it gets worse. But it's just flickers now. Well, not flickers, but... those terrible moments of despair. They are fleeting. Were, rather. Moments. Fleeting thoughts about I just need it to stop. I just need this to be over. A bottle of pills in my purse.

This is a deeper hole. A steeper one.

But the flickers, just the one or two of them...they're scary.

The Rx is helping. I am feeling a bit brighter, better. Last week several colleagues -- even the barrista at SB -- noticed how low I seemed.

But it wavers. I am feeling better over all. Dr. Shrink is reassured by results. I am tired. Of all of this.

I don't know where I'm going. I am less panicked, especially about school. Talked to some folks. Made some arrangements about courses, completion. Not great, but better.

I'm beginning to understand, though, children are getting farther away. Having my own. Even adopting. I am not in despair yet, though maybe that's what the waves of sad are.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Living the dream

Or, maybe just the cliche:

propensity for depression + infertility + dead babies + continued infertility + more depression = Crazy in the Head DBM

Sunday, April 18, 2010


I just looked back about two years, to see what I was writing.

Probably not a good idea.

Saturday, April 17, 2010


Invitation in the mail today to the annual DB memorial at my local hospital. C will not go. I probably won't.

The last (and only) time I went was the day before my due date. The actual day before my boys were actually due.

I will probably skip it again this year for a multitude of reasons. The religious aspect is not comforting. I have been shown in several ways by many people I love that our loss, our little ones are remembered. That means more to me.

Certainly, my state of mind these days would indicate that not going is the better choice. I had to go to the local hospital for a blood test (just to check for therapeutic levels of my antidepressants) a couple of days ago and wound up having to sit for a while in the general waiting area by registration. I wound up near the gift shop, and thought about the sweet nurse (Brianna?) who coordinated our transfer to the University Hospital, and, who, when I mentioned to C that I didn't have any tissues for the ride, ran into the shop to get me some.

At one point as I waited, a big burly man tramped through with big grin on his face and a b0ppy around his neck, a bunch of bag and balloons, clearly off to get the car ready for a new arrival. I hoped hard that I would miss the big departure, be called in for my registration. I did.

I thought about Sara, the nurse who spent time with me all that Friday, and volunteered to be our labor nurse when it came time. And Janet, the nurse who had her own loss at 20 weeks almost 30 years earlier, and worked as the hospital's grief counselor. And Renee, who was married to one of the ER doctors. And the nurse whose name I don't remember, but wore something over her hair, a cap of some sort for Quaker or Amish women? I don't know.

There were others, a few I guess. It's a small hospital. My intake for this blood work was in the ER, yes, at that desk.

I hadn't realized how long it had been. Or, maybe, seem to have let time pass without thinking about all these details.

That's good, I guess. Progress.

Even though it doesn't feel like it very much today.

Somehow, the rawness seems to have returned. Maybe that's where so much of my anger comes from. Angry and sad.

Upon hearing that I considered, just for a fleeting moment, the half-bottle of K in my hand after a stressful moment, at the end of a stressful day...upon hearing this, my current a-d dose is increased. Mention of more intense outpatient services at a city hospital is made by my pharma.

My therapist is...not opposed to something more intense. I am not entirely opposed. She thinks maybe it would be a good thing. I don't entirely disagree. But I cannot believe this is my life now. I think, maybe I am as broken as I feared. Maybe I can believe it. Give in to the myth.

Couples counselor thinks I am not broken. She thinks I need to change my situation, school, work, I don't know. To what? I don't know that, either.

Where do I go from here? As C reminds me (trying not to panic), I need to work. I have debt to pay. Bills. A life to lead.

This is the best work I've done. Most I've ever connected with ideas, with people. But I'm not feeling it. Not now. I don't know where to go with it. And then family squabbles tax me (yes, middle child). Friends grow closer as I prepare to send some on their way, to new homes, new adventures.

My body, my mind swings from okay to crying to okay. To heart-pounding anxiety. To okay. The meds make me want to sleep, as I have not entirely adjusted to the new dose.

On April 14, 2001, in front of my whole family, C asked my parents for their blessing on our marriage. My mom was sitting up in her recliner, blanket over her legs. "You've made us very happy," C remembers her saying.

Three weeks later, she was gone. Maybe 10 days before Mother's Day. We wed about year later, inadvertently, on Mother's Day. Or maybe it was subconscious. Once we realized the day and date, of course we acknowledged it in our wedding, and in the program, On this day celebrating the importance of family, we are honored to spend it with you, as our two families become one.

Spring is here. Driving around, down the highway for errands today, waves of pale green, lilac, shades of pale pink bend to the breezes.

Friday, April 9, 2010

I"m so tired

I'm just so tired of all this.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Tuesday, April 6, 2010


not much more to say.


Or, perhaps, less morbid. Here is the whole song. I think Tash played it once before. Somehow, I'm hearing it again, differently. On one of many days when I really don't know how things will go, how I will be.



Written by Ingrid Michaelson

I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
I just want to be ok today
I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
I just want to be ok today

I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today
I just want to feel something today
I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today
I just want to feel something today

Open me up and you will see
I'm a gallery of broken hearts
I'm beyond repair, let me be
And give me back my broken parts

I just want to know today, know today, know today
I just want to know something today
I just want to know today, know today, know today
Know that maybe I will be ok


Just give me back my pieces
Just give them back to me please
Just give me back my pieces
And let me hold my broken parts

I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
I just want to be ok today
I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
I just want to be ok today

I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today
I just want to feel something today
I just want to know today, know today, know today
Know that maybe I will be ok
Know that maybe I will be ok
Know that maybe I will be ok


Open me up and you will see
I'm a gallery of broken hearts
I'm beyond repair, let me be
And give me back my broken parts

From Be Ok, by Ingrid Michaelson