Sitting at home on the couch

What a fun way to end the work week.  NOT. 

I took my second dose of cytotec last night around 7:30p.  Maybe 2 hours later the cramping got going pretty good; we were watching a movie.  By the time it went off at 9:30p Stephen was super tired so he begged off to go to bed.  I was a little hurt by that, but hey, he works 2 jobs.  I took a cat-nap until 11:30p when the phone woke me up - Momma calling to check on me.  She told me that her dog, Angel, has been vomiting and having watery diarrhea.  Sounds like parvo, but she's already had that so she shouldn't be able to get the virus again.  Momma told me to call her if my pain got bad enough that I needed some company.  She had to work today.

I was in here on the couch from about 12:30a to 2a by myself crying from the pain and feeling oh so alone; my husband is in the next room sleeping like a baby, my mom is down the street sleeping worrying about her dog and I'm on my couch in the living room wishing to God that someone would come to me so that I wouldn't feel guilty about ruining another person's night's sleep.  The pain was excruciating.  Nothing like the "contractions" I felt last time that were bad by themselves, but minuscule compared to this.  I literally felt like my uterus was being brutally ripped from my body.  I wouldn't help but cry like a baby; hold my stomach, rocking and crying like a little girl. 

Thankfully Stephen woke up around 2a and stayed with me, coaxing me to take some oxycontin that Momma had the foresight to bring from Daddy's medicines (for the "bone pain" associated with multiple myeloma).  I was against taking it at first because I've never taken pain medication before and somehow dulling the pain during such an emotional time didn't seem right.  But I was getting lightheaded from all my breathing and crying every time a contraction hit - it seemed as though they were getting more severe.  I finally gave in.  It helped.  The pain was still there, of course, but now at a tolerable level.  I was able to sleep for about 20minutes in between running to the bathroom to pass clots (sorry for the graphic detail, but this isn't a pretty experience therefore doesn't qualify for pretty descriptions).

By about 5:30 I still hadn't passed the sac so I decided to lay down in bed to get some semblance of actual sleep.  I woke up at 9 to more horrible cramping, took another pain pill and here I am at 2 o'clock in the afternoon: still in pain, still bleeding, and still not done with all this.

I prayed last night that the next time I have to go through this type of pain that I actually have a healthy, full-term baby to hold afterward.  I hope that God hears this prayer, but it's a little hard to be optimistic at a time like this.

Time heals all wounds?

Notice the question mark?  I don't believe that age-old cliche...not fully.  I believe that time DULLS all wounds, but the scar is always there.

Having said that, I feel much better than I did almost 2 weeks ago.  The anger and confusion are still here but aren't as eager to surface.  Of course, this weekend didn't help...

I took cytotec Saturday morning to induce the m/c.  It's supposed to begin working in 12-24 hours.  My luck lately?  It's been over 48 hours and nothing has happened.  I'm going to take another dose of the cytotec later this week so hopefully it will work then.  It's a lot harder trying to move on when you're still carrying your baby around. 

I sure hope that God will bless me one day with a baby...the yearning grows stronger with each day.

Not a good weekend

Not sure how to begin...after all it was meant to be a surprise.  Yesterday and I was scheduled for an 8 week confirmation ultrasound.  The news was not good.  As in last time, the baby stopped growing at about 6 weeks 6 days.  Stephen and I are not taking it well.  My feelings on this?  Let me give you some insight.

Pain: for those of you who have experienced this, you know how it feels to have your heart ripped out in this way.  For those of you who haven't, you have absolutely no idea what this feels like.  It may have only been for 8 weeks (though technically I haven't been actively pregnant for 10 days) I have had a special bond with a baby that my husband and I made.  Our baby.  I didn't care what gender, how dark their skin was going to be, their sexual preference, their IQ.  It was OUR BABY.  From the moment that egg was fertilized, that child had an identity.  It wasn't known to us yet, but everything about that child was already there, developing day by day.  And now it's not.  Again.  For the second time in a row I won't get to hold my baby one day.  I won't get to soothe their cries, kiss a skint-up knee, watch them ride a bicycle or hear them call me "Mama." 

Anger: I try to think that I'm a good person.  So why in the hell has this happened?  Not only once, BUT TWICE.  I've had a lot of adversity in my life beginning in elementary school with racial third graders.  This was followed by unkind opinions of my weight/size in high school and Stephen's parents' dislike of me because of my race.  Then Daddy gets sick.  And now this.  Why?!  There are people in this world who have no business having kids, but have no problem birthing or fathering children.  But for me and many more, it seems hopeless.  I don't get it!!  As painful as the first miscarriage was, we thought maybe it was a fluke.  We got pregnant again and thought everything was going to be fine.  Now, I wonder "will everything be fine?"  I don't know.  And for people who want to say "everything will be okay" or "it will happen when the time is right" - to you people now I say "shut the hell up."  I don't want to hear your empty words of sympathy and encouragement.  They don't mean dick right now.  Save them for someone who wants to hear them.

Grief: with my last miscarriage I remember the day we had the ultrasound, the day I miscarried; my due date will have been August 21st.  I was just beginning to overcome my grief of "what could have been" a couple of months ago.  Now I have to go through the whole process again.  I will take a pill to begin the m/c next weekend.  I would have been 20weeks when we go on our vacation to Aruba and 22weeks when Megan's due date arrives; my due date would have been February 23rd.  Despite my current bitterness I think I'll make a good mom.  But will I ever be able to find out?  I wish that I hadn't gotten so excited about it and thought about these things constantly for the past 4 weeks.  Now I will be painfully aware of the milestones of 2 failed pregnancies.  And to boot, I get to watch my BF have a healthy pregnancy with a healthy baby girl.  Is life unfair in it's many tribulations?  Ya damn straight.   

You know my attachment to quotes.  Someone at work gave me a book full of them.  Some made the pain a little worse, some a little better...here's a couple that stood out.

"In the garden of humanity, ever since it ceased to be called the earthly paradise, there has ripened, and will always ripen one of the bitter fruits of original sin: pain."  Pope Pius XII, address, 7.14.1950

"Bereavement is the deepest initiation into the mysteries of human life, an initiation more searching and profound than even happy love...Bereavement is the sharpest challenge to our trust in God; if faith can overcome this, there is no mountain which it cannot remove."  W.R. Inge, Survival and Immortality, 1919

The last few days

A received a phone call Sunday that one of my oldest friends found her dad dead in his home that morning.  I grew up with her and our families were pretty close.  I can't imagine finding your dad in such a way...especially when you're only 26 and he only 55.

Today was the memorial.  He had been cremated.  I was a nice service and my family and I were able to say a few words about some of our memories.  My heart goes out to her.  We don't always keep in touch, but when we get together it's like no time has been lost.  She'll be okay of course - "time heals all wounds" though something like this will always be with her.  She is her father's daughter so she's a tough cookie and I sincerely hope that she remembers that and that it brings her a measure of comfort.
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Daddy's begun to lose his hair, so he shaved his head.  Luckily you can't tell now.  He actually looks pretty good with a "skin head."  =o)
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Work has been fine...nothing particularly exciting going on there.  And home has been running like normal.  We're making slow but smooth progress on the house renovations.  I'm hoping that I can post some pictures sometime soon.
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You oughta see Megan's Buddha belly!  She's getting so big!  And I don't mean "big" in an all-over kind of way.  She's all tummy at 25 weeks 4 days.  Very cute.  I'm actually a little jealous.  Okay, more than a little.  ;o)  She began showing so early and gets bigger every week.  When that day finally comes for me (hopefully sooner rather than later) I hope I can be as lucky to show like that.  I know a lot of women can be sensitive about "getting so big" but I swear, I think it's beautiful and a badge of honor.  She's very lucky.

30 Days Of Jessica...Day 30

A picture of someone you miss.

Alright, this is a picture of my Mema and me (gotta love the 80's pouf, right? - too bad I wasn't old enough to appreciate or incorporate the unique styles!).  I think I'm about 4-6 years old. 

I can't be so hypocritical to say that I miss her in the sense of "spending time together" because as I got older that time became less and less frequent.  But she did pass away before she got to experience some amazing things:
1) My marriage
2) My cousin Judith's marriage; my cousin Billy's marriage
3) The birth of her first great-grandchild
4) The birth of her second and third great-grandchildren
5) Her youngest grandchildren graduating from high school
6) The election of President Obama (everyone keep your comments to yourselves)

I personally believe that just because a person has left this earth, it doesn't mean that they are "gone."  So I know that she has been here to witness these events.  But to have her physically here would still have been awesome.

To further pay homage to Mema, I would like to inform you all of some of the great things she did in this life...she began the mid-west chapter to help heal adult literacy; she and my grandpa began a Methodist church in Hawaii; she was a teacher; she was an airplane mechanic in WWII.  Pretty amazing lady.
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Well this concludes the "30 days of Jessica."  I hope that this has been somewhat insightful and entertaining.  If not, I'm sorry I wasted your time and mine.  If so, stick around...who knows, I might be able to continue on some kind of sporadic basis.  =o)



Company this evening...

Stephen left for work at his normal 10pm tonight.  After he left I began loading the dishwasher with the dishes from supper (I couldn't do it right after we finished eating because he had to take a nap before going to work...hard to be quiet with dishes and water running in a 1 story home).  I finished probably around 10:30pm or so and thought I heard something strange.  I strained my ears for a few moments and heard a scratching/screeching noise coming from the living room.  Now being alone at night and having our living room closed off with a sheet of plastic make for an active imagination.  So I called my parents' house and asked Momma if Nathan was home - she said "we'll be right there."

Now about the time they got here (thank goodness they only live about 1 minute away) I remembered that last year we had a baby bird fall out of its nest in our chimney.  The fluttering of its wings sounded like thunder as it frantically tried to get back up the chute (we have a wood stove insert in our fireplace with a metal piece sliding around it to cover the gap).  I figured this must have been the same type of situation. 

Nathan came in and pulled the piece away from the chimney and used a flashlight to look inside.  And there it was!  A baby bird clinging to the side of the chimney.  He asked for a pair of gloves and I couldn't find Stephen's work gloves, so I found an old pair of winter gloves in the coat closet - not the best option but we make do with what we have.  So it was my job to guard the entrance from the living room to the rest of the house and Momma held the side door open to outside.  Somehow I got sidetracked and forgot about my duty and ended up in the middle of the living room watching Nate.  And of course, when he went to grab the bird it tried to fly away and headed straight for the opening in the plastic that I was supposed to keep closed!  I about freaked out...seriously.  Luckily it clung to the plastic right beside the opening. 

Nathan was able to get it from there and took the poor, scared thing outside.  We simply didn't know what else to do with it.  I didn't want to leave it in the chimney with all the soot and creosote.  I feel bad about leaving it outside and the three of us stood there watching it lay in the grass trying to figure out a better alternative.  Unfortunately none were found.  Hopefully it will find a safe place for the night or its momma or daddy will find it.  I'll feel horrible if I find it tomorrow dead in the yard.  I'll have to let you know if I find it or not.