Friday, February 24, 2017

The Truth Shall Set You Free

This post will be controversial. I will probably lose “friends.” After what I’ve been through, I honestly don’t care what anyone thinks about the matter, but I need to get it off my chest.

Back in 2014 while I was pregnant with my first baby we were given a bad prognosis by the doctors. Yes, doctors, plural. After the initial diagnosis by my OB, we had additional tests run. I had several blood tests, an amniocentesis, and multiple ultrasounds. Everything came back with that same negative outcome. There was something wrong with the baby and it was recommended that we “terminate for medical reasons.” These words weren’t taken lightly. We both did a lot of research on what it would take to care for a child with such a condition. I even looked up support groups in our area. While they were there, what was offered for services definitely wasn’t impressive. I also came across an anonymous thread that asked people who had children with these circumstances if they would change anything if they could. Anecdotes about failed marriages due to the stress, children living longer than estimated with very little function, and how if they could they would have ended the pregnancy ensued. In the end, I just couldn’t bring a child into the world who would suffer from day one. We decided to go through with the termination for medical reasons. The name everyone loves to use for that is abortion.

This baby was very much wanted. It had taken us almost a year to conceive him. We had already started prepping a nursery and had a few baby items in the closet. Looking forward to that pregnancy and having that baby close to my dad’s birthday was one thing that was helping me deal with my father’s death which had just occurred 2 weeks prior to that initial bad prognosis. I can’t even begin to put into words the amount of heart break I felt having to make such a decision. I still remember barely getting through the phone calls we had to make to our families telling them what had happened and what we were going to do. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.

There were also lots of laws changing in the great state of Texas around that time. By the time we received all of the results from the testing so we could be 100% sure, I was at 20 weeks and 4 days. This means that even though every doctor we spoke to recommended we terminate, none of them were willing to touch me to perform said termination because it was illegal. We were on our own with no idea where to turn. I turned to a group I found on the internet.

We ended up having to go to a different state where the baby’s heart beat was stopped, I was induced, and I delivered my angel baby. During this journey, I was lovingly called a whore (you know, married ole me with a very much wanted baby out there whoring it up for all), a murderer, a soulless baby killer, an evil cunt who will burn in hell, someone even asked why I wanted to kill babies. These were just a few things amongst many that were either shouted at me or written by various internet trolls through the site I used to find the group who helped me though the termination.

We decided only to tell immediate family members and a few choice close friends the whole story. Due to the backlash already received, we decided just to tell everyone else that I had lost the pregnancy. It was a very hard grieving process that I’m not sure I’ve even dealt with fully. You just can’t compare someone who chooses to terminate a pregnancy to someone who actually suffers a loss, right? I feel that is wrong. Regardless of how it happened, both people are going through a very tough emotional period and are grieving a significant loss.

Why tell this story now? Why not just let people believe you lost the pregnancy?

Well, I had some issues with postpartum depression and anxiety after having Elias. After finally going and talking to a counselor, I realized that I never really fully dealt with my father’s death and the loss of a baby so close together. I was pretty much set up to be knocked into a pretty fun trip down hormone lane. I felt like getting this out there would help me process some things and hopefully help control some of the hormones after I have baby #2. I also thought I could clear up a few things about abortion:

  • No one wants to have an abortion. It’s definitely not something I always dreamed would happen to me.
  • It was very expensive and no, my insurance didn’t cover it. Neither did your tax dollars. It came out of pocket over the course of several, several months.
  • Planned Parenthood couldn’t help me. However going through all of this made me start volunteering for them.
  • Many women have no idea something is wrong with their pregnancy until 17-19 weeks along. Therefore those who choose “late-term” abortions are doing so around 20-23 weeks.
  • No one is using it as a means of birth control.
  • People do some pretty messed up stuff in the name of religion.

I’m not going to lie. I’ve had a lot of pent up anger over the past few years. Anger that this had to happen. Anger that so many people are so adamant about what women should do with their bodies when it is none of their damn business. Anger that it’s a political issue when it never should be. Anger that every time I look at my medical charts, I get to see the wonderful word abortion. Anger that every fricking place seems to want to know how many pregnancies I’ve had…even the dentist.

I joined a group in December that consists of all women expecting babies in June this year. Recently, two members of the group have had to deal with and go through similar circumstances. The outpouring of love and support for them has been incredible and gives me hope that one day we can all stop being dicks to each other for having a difference of opinion.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Pretty Fucking Far From Okay

Remember that scene in Pulp Fiction where Butch rescues Marsellus? Upon Butch asking him if he's ok, Marsellus responds, "Naw man. I'm pretty fuckin' far from okay." That line keeps running through my head every time someone asks me how I'm doing. I have come a long way over the past few weeks, but some days are still harder than others. This story is going to be long, so I hope you have some time on your hands.

On March 25th, I lost my dad. It wasn’t supposed to happen so soon. He was admitted to the hospital that Monday (the 24th) due to low blood pressure and low Oxygen levels. They were supposed to make him feel better and send him home. No one in my family expected my dad to pass away when he did, that is why I was still in TX and not in NC when it happened. Instead of making him feel better, one of the nurses accidentally overdosed him on pain meds. He didn’t come back from it. Ben called me at work that day to tell me we needed to fly to NC asap. I left work in tears, but expected to be able to see my dad when we arrived in Fayetteville. I knew he wouldn’t be in the best shape, but I expected to be able to go see him, hold his hand, and talk to him at the hospital. That wasn’t in the cards. When my sister picked us up from the airport, she had to break the news to me that our dad didn’t make it. Only those of you who have lost a parent, know what that feels like. It sucks. At that time I was 17 weeks pregnant. We hadn’t even found out the sex of the baby yet. As I tried to process everything, I told Ben that maybe it was the right time for him to go. Had my dad passed away any later in the year, I wouldn’t have been able to travel home due to the pregnancy.

Through all of this, I was able to use the baby to help me find hope during my grief. Two weeks after my dad died, Ben and I found out that we were having a boy. We were ecstatic. The same day as the ultrasound, we got a call from the doc and found out that there might be some problems with the baby. Nothing was certain at the time, so we figured it was a fluke and carried on with our planning.
**The rest of this is going to be quite vague because I really don’t think it’s anyone else’s business what exactly went wrong.**
Let's just say that I went to the doctor A LOT over the course of the following few weeks. With each appointment came more heartbreak and trying to hold things together. At 23 weeks, I delivered my silent baby boy. I was induced, I went through labor, and I had a natural delivery. I am now a mother, but have no baby to show for it. Just when I thought that everything was over, I could start to move on, my milk came in. Another big FUCK YOU from the powers that be. My body is back to normal now. My boobs have shrunk back to tiny and I've stopped bleeding. My doctor cleared me to finally start exercising, which is good, since I have baby weight to lose. It's funny how fast your body can physically heal. Emotionally, it's another story.

Losing a parent is hard, losing a baby is even harder. Having both happen within a month of each other is a total mind fuck. I have gone through a ton of emotions, but the two I am hanging on to are lack of patience and anger. I'm not sure if it's lack of patience or no empathy. I find it really hard to give a shit about other people's insignificant problems. I'd give examples, but it would make me come off as a heartless human being and usually I'm quite sweet. Now, anger. To say that I am a pissed off is putting it mildly. You know how people always say that you're never given more than you can handle? Well, that is bullshit. I'm handling it, but that's my only option. I can either pick myself up and move on or just check out of reality. I've decided to pick myself up and move on.

I am lucky to have an amazing support group made up of friends and family, but more importantly, I am lucky to have Ben. Our bond has only been strengthened by the suckfest we have endured. I'm also thankful that my new job (started in February) has been so understanding and accommodating over the past two months. If it wasn't for all of these factors, I would most likely be in a darker place right now.

I haven't been very religious for some time. All of this sure hasn't helped matters. However, it does give me comfort to think that somewhere, my dad is hanging out with my son. I hope he's teaching him how to cuss and pee in the yard.

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

My Dad

This past July, my dad was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. The tumor was deemed inoperable and the cancer had metastasized to his adrenal glands and spine. The doctors told us there was nothing they could do except prolong his life with radiation and chemotherapy. The cancer was terminal. As you can imagine, this was a big blow to my family and me.

Once we found this out, I took a week off work and went to Fayetteville to spend time with my dad. I made him eat a lot, we did some yard work, and went to his radiation appointments. Lots of family came by, I met some people he worked with, and we sat around watching tv. Nothing too exciting, but I knew this was probably the healthiest I’d ever see my dad again. We got the immediate family together and had family pictures done for the first time in 27 years.

I haven’t really told a lot of people about all of this. It’s not easy to talk about. It took me a month or so before I could talk about it without bursting into tears. Hell, I’m tearing up now just writing about it. I wanted to field a couple of questions and responses I’ve been getting from those I have told.

1.      How’s your dad doing?

While I appreciate you caring enough to ask me this question, the truthful answer is he’s dying and it sucks more than anything has ever sucked in the history of suck. Please don’t ask me this question if you see me out trying to have a good time. It kind of ruins my evening. Also, don’t ask this if you can’t deal with the answer. It’s funny how uncomfortable people get when you give them an honest, emotional answer.

2.      How are you dealing with everything?

I’m on an emotional rollercoaster. I’m sure I have some of these pregnancy hormones to thank for that. Most days, I’m fine. I’m not the one fighting cancer. I do tend to tear up quite a bit and sometimes become a sobbing mess while in the shower. I try to find humor in things, like the fact that my dad and I have recently bonded over hemorrhoids.

3.      Time is so precious, spend as much time with him as you can.

Thanks! I haven’t thought of this or mulled over the fact that I live ~1200 miles away. There is absolutely no way I’m going to be able to spend as much time with my dad as I want. Phone calls and skype will have to suffice.

4.      How’s your mom handling everything?

She’s keeping it together for everyone else. I’ve asked her a couple of times and I’m pretty sure she’s not telling me the truth. She’s also doing fine, same as my dad if you ask him. Gotta love this stubborn duo.

5.      Your family is in my prayers.

Thank you. I appreciate the gesture and the fact that you are thinking about us.

6.      Any combination of, “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” “The Big Man Upstairs has a Plan,” “God has a Path we Each Must Walk.”

These phrases make me want to punch you in the face. Knowing that God had a plan for my dad to get cancer and suffer the way he is currently suffering only makes me angry and resentful. This does not help.

My dad is a stubborn man. I think his stubbornness paired with his sense of humor will keep him fighting for a lot longer than we all expect. My only hope is that he gets to meet his new grand-baby at the end of August. Maybe they’ll share the same birthday.

Monday, July 1, 2013

Just a Little Hypocritical

In light of recent events in both Texas and North Carolina.....

It seems as those who are Pro-life and are all about telling a woman what she should do with her body, are also those who want to get rid of programs such as Welfare and Planned Parenthood.  Just seems a little hypocritical to me.

Also, here is one of my favorite Susan B. Anthony quotes.  In case you can't see it, it says, "No self respecting woman should wish or work for the success of a party that ignores her sex." 

My body, my decision.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012


I'm all for sharing the road.  I go out of my way to slow down and move over for cyclists.  I am glad you are out there, getting your exercise on, unlike so many fatties just sitting in front of the television.

What enrages me about cyclists, are those that do not obey the traffic laws.  I am looking out for you, you should also be looking out for my bright ass blue car coming at you when you are breaking those laws. 

In the past 24 hours, I have almost hit (and by almost, I mean I'm glad I got new brakes on my car last week) two cyclists.  The first instance occurred yesterday evening.  This awesome guy came screaming out of a parking lot, attempting to cross 3 lanes of a feeder road.  Feeder roads here in Texas are roads that put you on and off the interstate.  People do not drive slow on these roads.  I hope he made it to wherever he was going.

The second instance happened this morning.  I have added a picture to help explain.  Here I am with a green light, turning right on my way to work.  This douche bag on a bike is in the middle of the lane (my lane, opposite lane of where he should've been riding), coming towards me.  They had a red light.  He should have been in the other lane (on the side, not the middle of the lane), stopped, with the rest of traffic.  Again, glad I have new brakes on my car.  I'm also glad the guy behind me had good brakes on his truck, because he came close to rear-ending me.  Pretty sure it scared him as much as it scared me, because he almost fell off of his bike.  All I can do is hope he learned his lesson.  Or, if not, at least heard the choice words and gestures I proceeded to give him.

If you are a cyclist and don't obey the traffic laws, eff you.  Eff you hard.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Boom Goes the Dynomite

I plan on voting for Obama, again.

I stopped eating at Chick-fil-a.  It was never about freedom of speech.

I believe marijuana should be legal.  I believe it's 100 times safer than alcohol.  To quote Bob Saget in one of my favorite movies, "Have you ever sucked dick for weed?!"

There always needs to be a separation between church and state.  Always.

Pregnant ladies:  I'm super excited that you are with child.  Please stop making the 3D ultrasound your profile picture.  It's frickin creepy.

I don't think that using cuss words to express yourself is a sign of ignorance.  I do believe that poor grammar and spelling is a very good indicator of ignorance.

My dogs are still cooler than most people.

The End.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012


Today's events have succeeded in giving me the heebie-jeebies.  It started while at work.  I've seen roaches at work before, but nothing to this magnitude.  My best guess is that someone sprayed the building today.  I saw at least 6 dead and 3 live roaches before I left today.  Granted, I was there later than usual, but come on.  I don't handle roaches well.  I felt like something was crawling on me the entire way home.

Next, we took the dogs for a walk not long after I got home (around 9:30).  We've been leaving the front light off because the June bugs have been horrendous.  Somehow, I see a small snake slithering by the bottom crack of the door.  I'm so thankful we have good insulation around that door.  So I yell for Ben to stop, there's a snake.  He takes a look and the little dude is now sitting on the mat, looking at us like, I dare you to try to go through this door.  So we walk around the back of the house where I see the largest spider I have ever encountered.  WHAT THE HELL TEXAS?!  STOP IT.  STOP IT NOW.

Got to the front door in time to see the snake slither away between the side of our driveway and the rock that surrounds our landscaping.  That butt hole is going to be in our garage tomorrow.  I just know it.

Time for a hot shower and some liquor in hopes this feeling fades and I can get some sleep.