I can almost taste the anger....

Did you ever feel such anger towards someone that you wanted to punch them in the throat?

That is how I feel towards Jamie's girlfriend right now. After I saw those pictures of Jamie's brother's wedding, I got in contact with Jamie's sister and she gave me a golden nugget of info. She claims that the only reason no one has met my son thus far is because Jamie's girlfriend wasn't happy about it...which was just as I suspected all along.

Her advice to me was to be patient and that they would work it out eventually. Wow, funny. I believe Jamie's brother told me the exact same fucking thing more than a year ago and wow, look, nothing has changed at all. We are in the same fucked up situation, that we have always been in and are no closer to a resolution.

What a fucking surprise.

People are such fucking asses sometimes. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. Yes, I am swearing profusely, aren't I? Hard to believe that I am a caring, loving nurse by day but can turn on the cold, calculating, angry bitch if need be? Well, it's not as hard as you think, trust me.

I mean, how can you deny a young child the chance to know his family, just because you "don't like the situation"? Well, suck it up bitch and put on your big girl panties, because this is the REALITY of the situation:

"I fucked your boyfriend LONG before you met him and we had a child. Get over it."

Fuck, I hate people sometimes.

I almost feel like saying "Because not one of you has a fucking backbone to stand up to this bitch, you can all go fuck yourselves". I have waited so many years for a fucking resolution and this is what I get???

"Just be patient"????

I have fucking well been patient. More than patient.

Part of me wants to hire a lawyer and nail his ass to the wall for child support and then part of me wants to tell him to get out of our lives for good and never contact me again.

Decisions, decisions.....

Regrets.....

Once upon a time, I met and fell in love with a boy.

I was married at the time, but, meh, who's counting?.

OR should I say I was very young and unhappily married to a workaholic who was never home.

I was lonely and sad and this boy took my breath away. He was fun, intelligent and extremely nice looking. His name was Jamie and he was my workaholic husband's, best friend's, little brother. Ohhhhh, I know, the plot thickens.

Jamie was quite a bit younger than me. I had actually met him one time years before, when he was 8 or so. Of course, he didn't hold the appeal and magnetism as an 8 year old that he held now.

It all started with a dream. One night, after he and his brother had come over and helped us paint our house, I'd had a dream about him. An extremely realistic sexual dream. I woke up the next morning and couldn't stop thinking about him. And that is what started the whole sordid affair.

With some prompting, on my part, Jamie and I started sleeping together. I WANTED him. Really, really wanted him. I needed to have him and would let nothing stand in the way of that. I did whatever he wanted me to. I bought him smokes, I gave him money, I gave him whatever he asked for. I look back now and see that I was really buying his love, but I was 24 and stupid and had a husband that didn't pay attention to me.

I was lonely, oh so lonely but when Jamie was around, those feelings of being alone went away. He made me laugh, a lot. He was really smart and interesting and we would sit out back at night and look at the stars while he would smoke cigarettes. I didn't smoke, but I just wanted to be in his presence. I felt happy when I was with him.

Months later, I ended up pregnant by Jamie. What a surprise that something like that could happen when you don't use protection :P I felt happy for the first time in a really long time. Jamie and I had a bond forever in our love child. I thought we would be together forever as this would be my chance to get away from my always absent husband.

But how wrong I was.

Jamie didn't step up to the plate. He wouldn't work and refused to stay at any job for very long. He continued to smoke dope and lived with a bunch of guy roomates. There wasn't any place for me and our baby in his life. I began to panic when I realized that I had no place else to go.

I hung around though, hoping and praying that things would change. I'd finally had enough about six months after our baby was born and it became apparent that I was waiting around for nothing. I told Jamie that I was wrong and that the baby wasn't his. And he believed me.

It was wrong but I guess I figured that the baby had a better chance at a decent life if I stayed with my workaholic husband. At least he wanted to work and even though he knew about the affair, he was willing to raise the baby as his own.

Jamie believed me, and to this day, I still question how he could when the baby looked just like him. You'd think he would of questioned it more but he seemed complacent and relieved when the burden of fatherhood was lifted.

And now here we are 9 years later. Jamie and I have kept in contact all this time. Why? I'm not sure. We just seem to gravitate towards one another, I guess. We are very similar in a lot of ways and I guess our lives are frequently messed up and it is nice to have the support of someone who understands how you think.

Several years ago, I finally came clean and told him the truth about our child but they have yet to re-meet one another. He hasn't seen our child since he was 6 months old. Now that the truth has been out for years, you'd think Jamie would want to see him. That he would be in a hurry to reconnect with him and make up for lost time.

But no. I'm not sure why that is. I think it is 95% on his part and 5% on mine. He has a new life now, with a girlfriend who sounds controlling. She doesn't seem to want to accept that Jamie had a child with someone else and so they never talk about it. How can they not talk about it, you ask!?! I have no idea, it makes very little sense to me. But apparently it is a topic that she refuses to discuss.

If Daddy had children with someone other than me, which he does, I would want to do my best to nurture that relationship because I love Daddy and I know that it would be important to him to see his children and have a relationship with them. I wouldn't stand in the way because his children were here before I even came into the picture.

It just sounds like a convenient excuse, if you ask me. "Oh, my girlfriend doesn't like the fact that I had a child before I met her and so I'm going to pretend that I don't... because it makes her happy.

It's been 9 years but I guess I am feeling bitter today. You see, Jamie is a "friend" on my Facebook and I just noticed that last night he had been tagged in several photos at his brothers wedding. I looked through all the photos and felt a combination of sadness and anger. There, in just about every picture, was his smiling and happy family. Jamie, both his sisters, his brother and his mother. There were also several pictures of his girlfriend, overweight and looking like a sausage stuffed into a dress. She looked like she would make a great contestant on that new FOX dating show called "More to Love".

FANfuckingTASTIC.

I feel bitter. Those smiling faces in the picture...that family.....is MY child's family. That is his father, his uncle, his aunts and his grandmother. And yet, he has never met any of them. And for some reason, the fact that he doesn't even know his own Grandmother bothers me immensely as I had a wonderful relationship with my own Grandmother.

My son's aunts don't even know that he even exists and Jamie's brother, who does know, told me that he is unwilling to get involved because of not wanting to rock the boat.

So, because the girlfriend is upset by REALITY, then no one else in the family gets to know of or have a relationship with my child?

Sigh...

Everything....

It has been an odd time since the miscarriage. I have really taken it easy for the first time in years. The doctor put me off work for several days and I knew it wasn't enough and so, I took more. I knew I needed it, mentally I needed it. I haven't worked more than a couple of days this month and I am glad for the reprise from all the sickness and death. I almost feel "normal" again and god knows, I haven't felt that way in a long, long time.

I have been on a cleaning frenzy lately and I am enjoying the order around me. Normally, the laundry, vaccuming, washing floors, etc, take a back seat to pretty much everything else. It's not that I don't want to do it, it's just that I am basically fried after I get home from work....and I work a lot.

My relationship with Daddy since the miscarriage has been changed somehow. He has been VERY understanding and supportive of my numerous emotional breakdowns and mood swings. Daddy keeps telling me that it isn't my fault and intelligently I believe him, but emotionally, I lay awake at night and wonder "What if?". What if the baby hadn't died? What if he had been born, perfect and good and sweet. How would my life be different?

It is enough to set me bawling my eyes out and frankly, I am tired. I just woke up and therefore have the next 16 hours to berate myself and cry over what could have been.

Daddy and I had sex yesterday. It was good. It's always good with Daddy. My pussy was sopping wet and made gushing sounds as he pumped his big, hard cock into me. He waited until I came on his cock and then pulled out. He yanked me over to the side of the bed on my back and made me dangle my head over the side. He then stood behind me, with his feet on the floor, and slid his cock, wet with pussy juice, down my throat. He kept pumping and gagging me with his cock until I started whimpering and shaking my head no. I couldn't speak with his cock so deep in my throat. He made me endure several more strokes, then pulled out and shoved my face roughly into his balls and said "Lick". I licked and sucked his balls enthusiastically while he stroked his cock. In the end, he threatened to flip me over and cum in my ass but I begged him not to and then he came all over my naked tits.

What a nice Daddy ;)

Chillaxing.....

I JUST had a cold shower. It was heavenly as we are currently in the middle of a heat wave and I'm sweating like a whore in church.

I love that saying, "Sweating like a whore in church". Daddy says it all the time. He's quite hilarious and frequently says unexpected things that make me burst out laughing. Some day I should create a blog dedicated to all the funny things he says. I think he's hilarious.

Daddy's parents are both French and as a young adult, he lived life on the road with his band. So, we had VERY different upbringings and experiences as we grew up. It seems like nothing fazes Daddy. He's just so mellow and views everything in life with a twisted "French/English, carefree, rock star" type attitude. Some days it's infuriating and then some days I find his take on life refreshing and quite humorous. I also love it when he tells me raunchy french swear words :P According to Daddy, he can't help it as "Ben, c'est mon heritage", meaning "It's my heritage". So, what can you do? My mother is also French and as a kid, I remember her frequently saying "Maudit seigneur", "Tabarnac", "Colisse". I had no idea what it meant, but it sure sounded cool.

When I grew up, I decided to go look them up.....and apparently, my mother swears like a sailor.

So, I went back to work the other day and it was shiteous. My miscarriage was the topic "du jour". I taken aside and asked "Are you okay?" several times before I even set foot in the nurses station. So, lots of opportunities to relive the horror. Nothing like revisiting the source of your soul crushing pain, over and over AND over again.

Back to the grind....

I got my tattoo, it hurt quite a bit, but the swelling has gone down a lot bit. I had one big puffy foot for a few days but now it is starting to itch, so healing time begins :P

I really love this tattoo and what it signifies. It means a lot to me. To me, it's like my lost baby is always with me. I had one cunt acquaintance say that my new tattoo was "cute but is it going to be cute when you're 90?" I felt like punching her in the throat.

I have not told anyone outside of immediate family about what has happened, in relation to Daddy and I losing the baby. I just can't it is too painful. I have cried so many tears already and I know that the barrage of questions and condolences would set me bawling again.

I feel weepy today already. I am set to go to work in a couple of hours and I just don't want to face my coworkers. I'm sure that everyone knows by now as I had to go to the hospital when I miscarried and then had to speak to my nurse manager because I would not be coming into work for a bit. So, in other words, it is guaranteed that EVERYONE I work with knows at this point.

I don't want their sympathy, but I really don't want the uncomfortable silence that I am bound to encounter too. Some people don't know WHAT to say in situations like this, so they say nothing at all. Honestly, I'm not sure which one is worse.

I am not prepared to go back to work. Emotionally, I don't feel ready to go back and deal with the day to day crap but mostly I don't feel ready to back and deal with the special emotional needs of patients with cancer. I am suffering inside myself, how can I be strong for them? I fear that I will be a bawling, useless piece of crap once they start unloading their sadness and suffering on me, instead of a comforting, supportive, strong, unrelenting warrior against cancer.

I am praying that everything goes alright. I don't even know who I'm praying to :(

Tattoo me, baby....

I am getting a new tattoo today. After I lost the baby, I felt like I needed something on me that I could remember him by..I just happened to call up the best tattoo guy I know (and also the guy who has done most of my work) and he just happened to have a cancellation for today. I was quite happy as his next opening was almost 2 months away.

So, today is the day, and I am shitting my pants for some reason. Normally, I am not such a wuss when it comes to tattoos as I have several very large ones already. But here I am, awake since the crack of dawn.

I am getting inked on a notoriously painful spot and I am extremely nervous. I am even thinking of using Emla cream. I know, I know....I am breaking the tattoo code, which consists of 1. "No crying in the tattoo parlour" and 2. "Suck it up wussy and endure the pain".

Tattoo parlours and tattoo artists are funny. They have a culture all their own. I remember when I got my first tattoo several years ago. They looked at me like I had 2 heads because I don't really look like the tattoo type...at all. A "newbie", if you will. They even made me pay a substantial downpayment to "hold" my spot. I figure it's because they were SURE I would chicken out as I wanted quite a large piece done for my first time.

Go big or go home, I say :P

Anyway, now, I have a lot of tattoos, even more than Daddy. I have street cred now when I get tattooed. No longer am I an "outsider", now I'm just one of them.

So, today, I am going and getting another one to add to my growing collection. It seems I always get a tattoo when I am in some sort of intense emotional pain. Some say that people use tattoos as a way to raise their endorphin level when they are depressed. Who knows? I just know that I have suffered a huge loss and I want a way to remember the baby. I know from talking to several other women who have lost their babies, that it is something you never forget, no matter how many years have passed.

So, wish me luck, and I hope to hell I can handle the pain.

I am off to the tattoo parlour....

Can it be possible......

That I have the shittiest fucking life EVER???

I went and got my pregnancy hormone results yesterday and I should of known what was coming when the doctor brought me into the Gyno examining room and asked me to "sit down". Normally in a Gyno room, it's take off your pants, get up on the table and spread em.

But in my self induced "hope" bubble, I just didn't see that. So, when she delivered the horrible, crushing news that my pregnancy hormones had decreased and I was miscarrying, it hit me like a ton of bricks and I just stared at her in shock. I demanded to know the numbers, my brain just didn't register the truth.

Words flew from my mouth as the tears leaked from my eyes.

"How can this be? The numbers were going up, weren't they? I just don't understand. Why did this happen? Is this going to keep happening if we keep trying? Are you sure there's no way the numbers can still go up?"

I just felt so full of hope and to have that torn away from me was excruciating. On Sunday, when I was bleeding like crazy....I expected the news to be bad but when we went that day and the news was sort of good, it gave me hope, godamnit, it gave me hope that things would be okay. I said I wouldn't let the hope consume me because it would only give me further to fall if things went bad later on. But, I guess, when hope is all you have, sometimes you hold onto it with both hands.

I am completely devastated.

I feel like I had a perfect little life in my hands and I lost it. Like Daddy and I made something that was perfect and good....and I killed it. I killed my baby. My body killed it. My traitorous woman body. I am a failure as a woman and a mother.

Daddy keeps telling me that it is not my fault, but I am still filled with guilt and shame. The guilt and shame I can handle, I guess, but it is the sadness and loneliness that overwhelms me.

I suppose most men don't understand this concept of loneliness, when a child has been lost, as they don't carry children in their bodies. But carrying a life inside you changes who you are. You take better care of yourself, you do things that you wouldn't normally do for yourself because it is "for the baby". Being pregnant gives you the feeling of not being alone anymore. Someone else is there with you constantly and is present in all your conscious decisions. It is not a matter of "I" anymore, it is now "Us". Women talk to their unborn babies, they stroke their stomachs lovingly. There is an emotional and physical bond between a mother and her child. The baby is always present, present in the mother's thoughts and in the mother's actions.

I talked to my baby. As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I was flooded with the urge to bond with it, to love it. There was the two of us.....and now that has been ripped away and there is just me.

I feel so lonely. I could picture the baby in my mind. I could picture myself holding it and loving it ( you have no idea how much that bothers me now). I could picture it's 10 tiny fingers and toes and soft fuzzy hair. I could picture myself feeding it from my breasts. In my heart, I felt that it was a little boy and after having several children, I have never been wrong yet. But now, I will never know. I will never hold him. He will only live in my imagination.

Life was so full of possibilities and now, there is nothing. There are only tears. How many tears can a mother cry? I don't know, but I fear they will never stop. I fear that I will carry this loss with me forever.

Last night, I dreamt that I was very pregnant. I dreamt that my stomach was swollen and round. I could feel the baby moving inside of me as I talked to him. God, I was so happy. So content and peaceful inside.

I feel like a part of me has died.

Holy fuck.....

Hello everyone one!!

It's me, Kaii. I am blogging from my Iphone,which is a first for me. I am sitting around at the hospital for the past two and a half hours, waiting for my pregnancy hormone lab results.

Holy fucking boring. I feel like I am going to completely lose it if I have to keep listening to this old woman, who is sitting next to me. She keeps talking about the "wonderful bowel movement" that she had yesterday. My god, why do some old people talk so fucking loud? It makes me feel like pushing her damn wheelchair down the stairs

I know, I'm a cruel and heartless bitch. What can I say?

I am just in no mood right now, I guess. I having been sitting here, waiting nervously, for these stupid results. I am expecting mediocre news. I expect that my hormones have increased but that doesn't mean that it isn't an ectopic pregnancy...so all that means is more blood work, more waiting and a transvaginal ultrasound when my Hcg is high enough to be able to see the baby and where the hell it is in my womb.

Fucking wonderful

Daddy was here for most of the morning but he eventually had to leave and go back to work. I completely understood as he had Already taken a major chunk out of his day to be there for me. Now he will be home later tonight so he can make up the time he lost this morning.

God, another old lady just walked by me wearing horrible old lady perfume. I think she had a bath in it this morning. One thing about being pregnant is that your sense of smell is heightened andthe smell of perfume, for some reason, makes me sick to my stomach.

So, not much else to report.... Just sitting here and freaking waiting, waiting,waiting.

I guess I'll just sit here and continue people watching..... I think a huge chunk of this post just got erased. Well fuck me.

Don't open the champagne yet......

That is what the Specialist told Daddy and I today.

I am still bleeding from the crotch like a stuck pig, but I am also still pregnant. My pregnancy hormones have increased over the last 2 days...so who the fuck knows what is going on. I sure as hell don't and neither does the doctor.

In a nutshell...I could still be having a miscarriage -OR- I could be having a tubal pregnancy where they end up giving you a hefty shot of Methotrexate to end the pregnancy before your tube ruptures and you could potentially hemorrhage to death- OR- things could progress normally and I could have a baby in the next 9 months....who the fuck knows.

I just feel so confused.

I was sure I was going to hear horrible news today and had been crying my fucking eyes out all weekend. The thought of losing my baby is truly devastating to me. I felt so hopeless. The sadness was overwhelming, I could feel it right down to the marrow of my bones and I spent most of the weekend curled up in the fetal position on our bed. Daddy bought me a stuffed Piglet and I held and stroked it as I cried. I was pretty pathetic, puffy eyed and snotty, but Daddy still loved me and rubbed my back a lot.

But now...

I just don't know what to think. Should I be happy? Should I be sad?

I am just confused.

I am afraid to be happy because things could still turn ugly any minute, and then I would be even more devastated. I am afraid to be positive and feel uplifted. It only makes it further to fall when things go to crap.

I am having more blood work done in 2 days. They are looking for my pregnancy hormones to keep rising, otherwise I get the dreaded "Methotrexate". I am scared to death. It is a chemo drug. They give it to people with cancer. The side effects can be quite devastating.

I am so scared on all fronts.

I wish I were religious, so I could have something to hold onto. But all I have is Science....and she can be a cold and cruel mistress sometimes.

*sigh*

I think I need ice cream...no, the baby needs ice cream. And I AM pregnant after all(at least for now), so I think I will go get some.

Send baby dust and positive vibes my way ;)

I have no cheeky title......

I'm not really sure what to write, right now. A lot has happened this morning and I am feeling dazed, confused, afraid and sad.

"First things" first....

I am pregnant.

I'll give you a second to digest that.

Ready? Okay, "Second thing"....

I may not be pregnant for very long.

Basically, I have not had a period in forever and gave up pregnancy testing as it always told me that I wasn't pregnant. But then I started spotting 4 days ago and then, last night, that spotting was accompanied by intense abdominal cramps on one side of my abdomen.

This morning, the pain was so bad that I drove myself to the hospital to get checked out. Nothing like going to your place of employment and turning into a sobbing mess in front of the people you work with. Yessir, nothing like it.

After being poked numerous times for blood, had an iv inserted, had a massive shot right in my ass cheek, urine samples, pelvic exam, abdominal ultrasound, etc, I was finally told that: A. I am indeed pregnant B. Need more blood work in two days to establish if my HCG levels are increasing or decreasing C. I could potentially have an ectopic pregnancy D. I could be miscarrying right now E. The pregnancy fairy could wave her little wand and everything could turn out just Jim Dandy afterall.

I was so upset by all this news that as soon as the doctor left the room, I cried like a baby and continued crying for the next 3 hours. I called Daddy, who was at work, and he rushed to the hospital to be with me. And then I cried some more when he got there. Then I was discharged from Emerg with instructions that my OBGYN wants me to have more bloodwork drawn on Sunday and then to see him right afterwards....on a Sunday. You know damn well that things are not good when your doctor wants to see you on a Sunday.

I then took the elevator up to my floor to tell my nurse manager that I had been put off for several days...and then I cried again like a sobbing fool right in her office. She's my BOSS for the love of god. Then I met one of my coworkers in the hall on the way out and she hugged me and said "What's wrong?" and I cried some more.

I am completely distraught. I am a nurse. I know how the hospital works. I know how Doctors work. They give you the bad news sandwiched between a bunch of candy coated "crappola". It's a way of keeping the patients hoping for the best.

So, basically, I'm pretty much fucked. I'm probably having a miscarriage as we speak and if I'm LUCKY, it won't be in my fallopian tube.

I am so sad.

All I can think about is the fact that Daddy and I made a baby...and more than likely, it's little life is over before it even began. It's gone.

Gone.

Was it a boy? Was it a girl? I am just haunted... by thoughts of what could of been.......