Mommy Wants Vodka

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Sometimes I Have No Words.

January17

A number of the blogs that I visit, would, at first glance seem to be an odd fit. As I am married and have two children, one might assume that I’d hang with the mommy bloggers. And while some of them are awesome (see links on side bar), I don’t feel like I fit in over there with all of them. While I love my life fiercely, gushing about my children (no matter how fantastic I believe them to be) is not the way I roll.

Mostly, it’s because I am a realist.

I’m no longer naive enough to believe that a positive pregnancy test equates a bouncing bundle of baby, so I spent up until about 37 weeks into my pregnancy looking for signs of a miscarriage when I had Alex (Ben, too, truth be told). I went into my ultrasound quaking in the knees not because I was nervous that I’d be stuck with another boy, but because I was worried that the baby whose kicks I had grown so fond of, would not have a brain. Or an equally fatal flaw. When my labor was induced, I needed the Zofran prior to the first contraction not because I was nauseous about my choices in nursery decor, but because I was afraid he would die in labor.

You see, despite my circumstances in life, I know what can go wrong. All too well.

I’ve helped mothers birth their still babies, worked with them in dressing them in teeny clothes, and memorize their every curve before they had to say goodbye. For good. I’ve carried this incredible love, and this unimaginable tragedy with me everywhere I go, just as they carry it with them.

I’ve held the hands of mothers and fathers who have come to have “the remaining products of conception” removed from their bodies (what a shitty fucking clinical term that is. I hate it. Passionately), and wept with them, too.

A long time ago, I accepted that the Universe was not always a fair place to be, and that things such as “just,” “deserve,” and “fair” don’t apply to everyone. Most of the time, I can deal with it. I try not to think too much about it, lest I get swallowed up into a pit of despair, never to emerge again. Other days, I rage against it, shaking my fists at the sky while I weep for someone else (or myself).

Today is one of those days.

Please, go visit Alexa, who is in dire need of some love. I don’t know her in real life (just as I don’t know many of you), but she is mourning the loss of one of her children, and she needs all of the love that The Internet can muster. Sometimes the kindness and love from relative strangers can relieve a small fraction of pain during this horrible situation.

posted under Cheaper Than Rehab
5 Comments to

“Sometimes I Have No Words.”

  1. On January 18th, 2008 at 1:43 am Jenn Says:

    I had a miscarriage a couple years ago. It was the single most terrible experience in my life. I could go on and on but I won’t.
    Sometimes when I read what you have written I feel like you are picking things from my brain. Except, you say it much better than I would!

  2. On January 18th, 2008 at 8:51 am Kim Says:

    without knowing me, you know me.

    *crying as reading and typing, you know why*

    Much love to all of the wounded souls and the tiny souls we lost, those wounds will never heal over completely and they will forever be missed.

  3. On January 18th, 2008 at 10:58 am Heather Says:

    Your views on pregnancy sound similar to mine. In the virtual sense, I know *far* too many women who’ve lost their babies. A friend of a friend just lost one of her twins due to twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome, and the surviving twin is fighting in NICU.

    I’m beyond blessed that my first pregnancy, ultimately, had such a good outcome. I wish no one had to know the phrase “making it to viability.”

    Hoping Alexa finds the courage and strength to carry her through.

  4. On January 18th, 2008 at 7:39 pm Andria Says:

    My best friend delivered a still baby 3 years ago in February. It was absolutely horrible FOR ME, and pure hell for her obviously. Our sons were supposed to hang together for life. Sucked.

    Anyway, it’s good to know someone cares and remembers the people who go through these things.

  5. On January 19th, 2008 at 8:46 pm honeywine Says:

    It never seems to stop…the horror and the beauty always intermingle. :*(

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