Category: pregnancy

Falling, Rising, and Fighting: My Journey Back to Self

Falling, Rising, and Fighting: My Journey Back to Self

In life, there are moments when the path you’ve been walking on suddenly crumbles beneath your feet. You find yourself falling into a chasm of uncertainty, and it’s in those moments that you question everything. It’s in those moments that I found myself questioning my deepest desires and grappling with a profound grief that seemed insurmountable.

I had embarked on a journey, a quest to become a mother, and it was a dream that had taken root deep within my heart. The joy of nurturing life, of watching little feet take their first steps and hearing the laughter of a child had become a beacon of hope in my life. But as time passed, and the trials and tribulations of life wore on, my path grew fraught with doubt.

I fell off track, and it wasn’t just a stumble; it felt like a free fall into a bottomless pit. I began to question whether I even wanted to be a mother anymore. It wasn’t because I had lost my desire, but because I wanted it so desperately that the idea of it never coming to fruition was too painful to bear. It was a grief that wrapped around me like a shroud, a heavy cloak of sorrow that I couldn’t shake.

And then, just when I thought I had hit rock bottom, I received the devastating news that my papa had succumbed to COVID. The pain was unimaginable, and it was as if life itself had conspired to test the limits of my strength.

In those dark moments, I grappled with my spiritual journey. I questioned the fairness of it all. I wondered how a higher power could allow such pain and suffering. But as I delved deeper into my own spiritual beliefs, I realized that it wasn’t about finding answers; it was about finding solace in the unknown. I had to learn to accept that life’s mysteries are not always meant to be unraveled.

My fitness journey had also taken a backseat during this turbulent period. I had let go of the one thing that had always brought me solace and strength. But, just as the sun rises after the darkest night, I decided to rise too. I knew that I needed to regain control of my physical well-being, not just for the sake of my health but as a means of healing my spirit.

My mental health journey became paramount. I sought therapy, leaned on friends and family, and allowed myself to feel the grief that had weighed me down for so long. I gave myself permission to mourn, to weep, to scream if necessary. It was through these raw emotions that I found the courage to begin my ascent from the abyss.

So, here I am, writing these words as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. I’m climbing back onto my path, not because the grief has vanished or because the desire for motherhood has waned, but because I refuse to be defeated. I choose to believe that life still holds miracles, even when it seems they are slipping away.

As I reconnect with my spiritual self, reignite my fitness journey, and tend to my mental health, I’m reminded of the strength that runs through my veins. I come from a lineage of survivors, individuals who have faced their own battles and emerged victorious. My journey is far from over, and every step, no matter how small, is a step toward healing and self-discovery.

I’ve fallen, I’ve grieved, and I’ve questioned, but I’ve also risen, fought, and found resilience within myself. The path may be uncertain, but with each step, I move forward, inching closer to the life I still hope to create, and closer to honoring the memory of my beloved papa.

Finding My Way Back From OZ

Finding My Way Back From OZ

A mixture of lavender and over cooked corn tortilla shells was the scent I remember from that day. I can’t remember my thoughts before, the color of my shirt, the location of where I even found the pills, but I can remember the smell that filled the air. It’s ironic isn’t it. Lavender. The calming, stress reducing, essential oil. That’s what I smelt, yet there was no ounce of calm in my body the moment my mouth touched that orange pill bottle.

Reading my text messages from earlier that day nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Complaining to my boyfriend about what a stressful day I was having at work wasn’t off kilter seeing how everyday this year had been intensely overwhelming. I ate lunch with my usual lunch group, talked our usual talks, did my normal work routine. Yet my world went black at some point.

There are a number of things I told the doctors, but nothing after the fact that I can say was the true blue reason of why. I remember taking my father to the behavioral health center after a drug induced psychosis. One of the questions was, “why are you here?” My dad explained he felt like he was trapped in OZ like Dorothy and he needed help finding his way back. There are things that happen in your life that might not hit you right there in that moment. It might be days, weeks, even years later before you finally feel what you should have felt then. But sooner or later the pain you’ve pushed down catches up to you. I finally understood what my father meant by that. I’d clicked my heels a million times, but still couldn’t escape the confines of my own personal OZ.

“What triggered your breakdown?” I was asked. It could have been a number of things, but I do recall before leaving work a coworker stopped and told me that we would be losing our health insurance. Because our job has decided that we are not and I quote “their problem”. How lovely and compassionate. Before kaiser I had medi-cal. My kaiser OB reviewed my charts from my first pregnancy and came to the conclusion that it was indeed a viable pregnancy. Yet my medi-cal doctors didn’t have the time or education to figure out what was going on with my body causing me the pain. They just decided that the pregnancy needed to be terminated. So hearing that I might have to go back to these doctors broke me. I still hadn’t really dealt with the trauma of losing my angels. I just stuffed it deep down hoping it would disappear just ask quickly as they did. Driving home my mind started spinning, calling people to get comfort and understanding, but no one really knows how to comfort you when you cant explain to them what is making you feel the way you do. I have a tendency to have every bad thing that’s ever happened to me crash down upon me when I’m stressed out. It’s like I’m going through it all a new. No words were going to make me feel better. In that moment I had never felt more isolated and alone. I was sad, extremely tired of being this sad, and I just wanted it to stop.

Depression is an evil thing to live with. Most people don’t understand it or even try to grasp how you are feeling. In a room full of people you still can feel so alone. You can’t call into work on your weakest days with the reason being you are depressed without some snarky retort. It’s not an acceptable reason in their eyes. You can’t cancel plans with friends or family because you can’t stop crying without a cure all remark of “can’t you just be happy”. As if it were that easy.

Depression had consumed my souls once again and this time I was ready to let it have me.

I don’t remember much after that. I remember going upstairs to work on some shirts for a friend and that is about it. Bits and pieces of a heated conversation between my boyfriend and I. Then the blackness.

I don’t remember what happened after my world went dark, but I do remember coming too and calling my best friend to take me to the hospital. In that moment I knew I made a mistake. My heart began to race. Not from the pills, but from the thought of making a permanent solution to a temporary problem. My boyfriend tried to talk to me but I can’t recall a word he said. My mind was else where I thought of how if I were to die by my own hand that I wouldn’t go to heaven and see my babies I so desperately longed for every second of every day. I thought of my little rebellious ones and who was going to look after and fight for them if I wasn’t around. I thought of my best friends and how they would wonder why I didn’t talk to them more about the sadness in my soul. But most of all I thought of my Papa and how his heart couldn’t take another loss.

Regret set in around the same time as the nausea and foggy bits. They escorted me to a room with a guard where I waited to purge the poison I had ingested. With every heave I cried. Once again alone with my thoughts. For hours I tried to sleep but my nightmares consumed me.

I was given the option of inpatient or an outpatient program. I could do out patient if my friends agreed to sign saying they would ensure I wouldn’t hurt myself again. With the burden of my life being on my friends I knew I had to focus on getting my heart healthy. Over a month in a program called IOP and I was feeling better and ready to go back to work and be around the world again with all their harsh judgment and criticism. I had two more classes when I received a text saying I would be changing classrooms when I returned to work. Inside I was shattered. This would be the second time my job had decided to retaliate against me during a hard time in my life. But I just replied with excitement. Change is something people going through things can’t really handle. Those two more classes turned into another month in therapy.

Tip toeing through conversations. Every choice word well planned and thought out. I felt equipped to handle the world around me with my tool belt full of new knowledge and understanding of my emotional experiences with the stress of my job, the loss of my babies, and the broken ness of my family. “It is what it is” was my mind set returning to the real world. You can’t change people or situations…..but you can accept them and change the way you allow it to effect you. Catty remarks of “how nice of you to come back” were a great welcoming from a few. If they only could experience half the things I’ve had to maybe they would have a heart and not be so callous. But an overwhelming amount of love and support was also showered upon me from several people as well. For those people I am grateful. You never know what someone is going through so why not just be kind?

Life after a breakdown doesn’t feel like life at all. I feel as if I’m floating, just making it through everyday like a dream. I didn’t know how to quit interact with others. “What were they thinking of me?” “Do they think I’m weak?” So many thoughts creeping through my mind.

During these challenging times I’ve learned that I need to ask for help when I need it. My job is just that, a job. It’s not my whole life. If I need to take a day, a week, a month off to gain mental clarity then I need to do just that. Some people are cruel and I just avoid those people. Not everyone is going to understand what you are going through, but some are willing to try. I still look through my therapy notebook on trying days. I’m not fine, but I’m getting better. Stress management is definitely something I am working on. After the loss of my babies I was told often how strong I was. I didn’t feel very strong. I felt weak and bruised. With tears in my eyes and pain in my heart I urge you to hug your “strong friends”, Show people who seem distant a little more compassion then usual. You never really know what anyone is going through in life. The people with the biggest smiles and deepest laughs can be the ones hiding the most pain in their hearts.

One day at a time

These four walls have never been the same since the day I found out about your existence. This white room, this porcelain tub…. none of it feels the same since that day. This was the room I first saw those two blue lines and this was the room I ran to after I knew I had lost you.

As I soak in the same tub I contracted in I feel so much pain. My heart aches and longs to just know any sense of who you would have been. You would be over a year by now. You would have a new baby sibling and the miscarriage would have never had the chance to happen. I feel guilty when I think of you. My heart broke just the same with the 2nd ectopic and the miscarriage, but for some reason my mind always wanders back to you. My first. My sweet Elowyn.

I thought I knew what love was before you. I thought I had felt a broken heart. But nothing compares to the love I have for you. The moment I knew of you I wanted nothing more but to protect my womb because I knew that was your place of survival. The soul shattering realization that the same body and person that was supposed to protect you is the same reason you aren’t here today. I’ve waited a long time for this pain to lessen. I remember people saying that it wouldn’t hurt so bad after awhile but there are moments when I feel a tinge in my stomach, the same fluttering feeling I would feel when I thought you were thriving inside of me, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. I’m brought right back into that moment in the hospital when I had to chose between your life and mine. Ive been working hard on myself even though the doctors said that there was nothing I could have done differently it’s hard not to blame myself. I could have been skinnier, I could have done more yoga do eliminate stress, I could have taken more supplements. All these things creep in and I begin to blame myself. I want so badly to try again.

Being a mom and holding my baby is something I want more than the air I breathe, but the joy of pregnancy has been damaged and smudged with chemo shots and multiple hospital visits. Three pregnancies with three angels in heaven has made the thought and idea of pregnancy so traumatic I can’t even fathom what it would be like to bring my sweet angel to term when the time comes. In the months to follow I hope you stay close to me every step of the way. Trying to conceive is hard enough on its own without all the stress of making it past my dreaded 5 week marker. I know that you will be with me helping me through any negative pregnancy test or any slightest twinge I might experience when I do get pregnant again. My sweet first love. I wish you were here with me. Just know that I think and dream of you often.

Sincerely

Your mommy

Keeping On

The taste of last nights antics still lingering on my tongue when I woke this morning. The memories and darkness come creeping in. My soul longing for my next drag and drink. Anything to keep the sadness at bay. Overwhelmed and overloaded. Filling my life with anything to distract me from the fact that my heart is in a dismay.

Weekdays full of work, school, working out. Any down time results in clouds and rain. Get up and go for round 2. Keep on keeping on meaning keep busy so you don’t lose sanity.

To speak my pain into words would mean that it was real and it happened. I won’t allow it. I can’t let this break me. Not again, I tell myself. There’s a dark cloud hanging over my heart.

When the tears begin to fall I know it’s time for another diversion. Anything to create some confusion within myself to make me forget and be filled with something to hide me from my own pain. Illusion after illusion. I jut really miss you.

My mother has decided I have a drinking problem. I’ve decided I have a remedy for an excessive amount of bullshit and pain being dumped on me at any given moment. Enduring pain that would bring grown men to their knees. 3 pregnancies lost in less than two years. A family in disarray. And a love for a father who’s trapped in OZ.

The same thing that can save me is the one thing I’m afraid will kill me. Wants, needs, and desperation. Refusing to open up the slightest afraid that no one will understand. “Cheer up” “You okay?” Stifled with a witty remark.

Attempting to save myself from myself. This was easy the first time around. A false and inaccurate use of the word, but easier compared to now. With every day I got a little bit stronger. I relish for that feeling again. Jealous of the person I was before. Proud for mustering up to courage to push on.

“How do people help you through it when you shut them out?” How hard is it to make yourself vulnerable just to be unheard and misunderstood. Mistakes you can’t allow yourself to make. So you long for the next interference in your heartache.

The weekends creep in and you pray someone calls to fill the next two days with amusement and engross your time until the busy week approaches once again. The two days others long for are the days you despise the most.

Monday comes and your hands are idle no longer.

Keep

On

Keeping

On………….

The Butterfly 

The Butterfly 


I look for signs in every part of my day. A beautiful humming bird is usually my Nana, a sweet dotted ladybug is your oldest sister Elowyn, those magical dragonflies are our sweet Jane, and yesterday when that butterfly entered our classroom…. I knew it was you. I wished and I prayed for you for a very long time. The short week I knew of you I loved you more than words could express. Pregnancy is a really interesting experience. You create this little miracle that you haven’t met yet, but you love it like your whole world depends on it and it alone. You want to protect it from anything that might cause it harm. Including yourself.
This time I was very proactive. I immediately contacted my doctor and began the pokes and the probes. With every prick of the needle I feared if this were the day I would hear that horrific word “ectopic”. I looked for every sign and symptom like the last. But nothing, until the bleeding came. I knew in that moment I had lost you. Shortly after I got the call from the doctor saying she was sorry, but my levels were fading and you were gone. I excused myself to the restroom and cried. “How could this be happening again?” ,I thought to myself, “How can God be so cruel?” I tried my best to compose myself deciding to stay and finish the rest of the day at work so I didn’t have to be at home alone. I went back to the class and began working trying to keep the tears at bay. And then there you were, a beautiful light green butterfly fluttering around our classroom. Looking for a quick way out as soon as you entered. How metaphorical to our situation. Just as quick as we said hello it was already time to say goodbye. I knew I had to be the one to set you free. I approached you and you did not fly away, i sent you all the love I had in my heart and I let you go. 
At the beginning of finding out I was pregnant with you my biggest fear was ectopic pregnancy again. I knew that this time I wouldn’t have the heart to be the one to end your fate. My soul wouldn’t allow it. My biggest regret till this day that eats at me every moment of every day is choosing my life over Elowyn and Janes. The soul person put here to protect them was the one who took them from this world. I knew it would kill me to do it again so I would have to risk it all with you. That’s the conundrum of this whole thing. Yes I am very sad and hear broken that I will not have you in my arms, but I’m relieved that I did everything in my power to protect you this time. You are not leaving at the hands of me.
So I will be seeing you my sweet girl. In every passing butterfly. Sending you love and hugs with every prayer at night. You were wanted and wished for. Created with love beyond this worlds ability to express. You were just to good for this Earth and God knew it. I’ll dream of you until we see each other in heaven.
Love you my little butterfly

Kindness is so gangster…..

Kindness is so gangster…..

The world can be a scary place to live. Especially when you’re in jr high school. In school I got bullied a lot. I was the quirky kid. I had “friends”, but they always picked on me for being weird. Weird to them wasn’t that I played with Yugioh cards or acted out Pokémon in the field like the rest of the kids they labeled “weird”. My weirdness was the fact that I was nice. They would tease me trying to get me to react in a volatile way. Always uping it a notch further. The last straw was when my mom bought me this cheerleading outfit from Limited Too. I was so excited to wear it the following Monday because it was sports theme for spirit week. My mom was hesitant about letting me wear it to school because she didn’t want me to ruin it. After hours of heavy persuading I finally convinced her I would take good care of it. That Monday I strutted into school feeling so cool. I couldn’t wait for my friends to see me. I told one of my friends about my moms fear of it getting messed up and she laughed. During lunch we are on the bleachers, there was a lot of whispering and more side conversations then usual. I started to notice that I wasn’t apart of them. I packed up my stuff and began to walk off the bleachers when one of the girls behind me called my name. As I turned around another girl behind me poured a cup of juice over my head. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was cry. I kept asking “why did you do that?” “Did you do it on purpose?” as I sobbed. No one answered, they just laughed. One of the girls began to call me names, “you’re so stupid”, she said. I felt the anger start to build. Without thinking I punched her in the face. She fell off the bleachers. I had never felt so horrible in my whole life. That’s what they wanted. They wanted to kill my kindness and I let them win. 
That weekend was my grandparents weekend to have me so I went over to visit. My Nana had heard how I was suspended and wanted to talk about what happened. I told her how the girls called me names and said I was too nice. That I was weird because I didn’t stick up for myself. I explained how I felt after they poured the juice on me and how cruel they were for laughing and calling me names after. I told her they had it coming. My Nana had never looked so disappointed. She said,” there will be times in your life when you get knocked down and you want to knock someone down with you, but don’t. You are a Cupples, your stronger then that” I knew that what I had done was wrong, but it felt good to make her pay for calling me names. “Don’t let the world change who you are. Only me, your papa, and you know who you really are and I love the Rissy you are. Don’t let it weaken you. Don’t let this world change that.” Since that talk with my Nana I have always tried to stay true to me. Never let the world or things that happen change who I am.
Struggling with trying to conceive a child and have it implant in the right location as changed me. It’s weakened me. I have been at rock bottom for a long time because of this. I find myself in this constant struggle of “fake it till you make it”. This whole ordeal has made me into a different person. At first I was trying to be so nice to people because I started to realize you never know what others might be going through so treat them with kindness. When I realized that was turning me into a doormat I began treating people the same way they treated me. Like total and utter shit. Ignoring them how they did me, giving them shit the same way they would, being very petty, lowering myself to their level. One day I took a hard look in the mirror and started to cry. I let the world change me. Every experience I tried to block and and keep strong I let in and make me into a person I am not. 
If I’ve said it once in these blogs I’ve said it a million times, “rock bottom became the very foundation I rebuilt myself on”. I’m not perfect, I’m learning everyday just like the rest of you. This spiritual journey hasn’t been easy. It’s a journey. But I try not to give up. I roll with the bunches…… sometimes I’m just rolling for longer then I expected. Things that shifted me before aren’t shifting me in this present time so I will have to keep tinkering with things till I find what works for me to have my spiritual enlightenment again. It’s a process and a journey, but I’m grateful for the people along for the ride. I kinda forgot how gangster it is to be kind to everyone know matter what.
Sincerely 

Me

Keep keeping on

Some days I feel like I’m okay. That this experience has toughened my soul and nothing can break me like losing them did. Other days I’m not sure how much more I can take. Between the unkind world around me and the ache in my heart I feel defeated and weakened inside. I feel empowered to take the life that lays before me and turn this mess of raw emotion and my broken heart into something beautifully reborn and brand new. I begin my spiritual journey full of pep and positivity to be broken down once again by my imaginary memories in my mind. I envision them as small children maybe 3-5 so happy and full of life. My happiness and eagerness to push forward quickly dissipates. I’m sucked back into the darkness. Waiting in that dark, cold, lonely room for the shot that ends their short lives. 
How do you escape the demons in your mind? I truly want to be happy again. Over the last 10 years since my Nana died I feel as if I’ve worked so hard to rebuild myself. I’ve fought to become the person I used to be. I feel as if with every triumph I’m presented with another obstacle. I fall into a self hatred phase and begin to blame myself for all the bad in my life. The unavoidable, nothing I can do about it things that just happen, some how in my mind become something I could have avoided or stopped. It’s a vicious cycle that is hard to escape. 
I recently began yoga and meditation which in the beginning of battling my depression helped a lot. I know it’s just the start but I’m not noticing results as fast as I want which is making it harder to stay focused and continue with it. I find myself dreading going into work again. You can’t control your environment in society. You can’t make people be kind of positive. I find myself getting sucked into the bleakness around me. My happiest time being the walk of solitude to the place where I eat lunch and the after school bell. I consider taking a leave to just focus on me and rebuilding my happiness and positive energy. 
My emotions are like a ping pong ball bouncing from wall to wall. Up and down, high to extreme low. On the verge of tears with any talk of pregnancy or babies. Fitting back my true emotions with my well rehearsed fake smile. I want so badly to feel as happy as I was the day I saw that one word “pregnant”! 
I have so much to be looking forward to. My best friend is getting married, I was asked to be her bridesmaid, I got into a program for school that I’ve been wanting to get into for over a year, I raised enough money to cover my first test to see where The blockage that is causing the ectopic pregnancies is located; however, I’m so unhappy. I’m fearful of getting the test done and wasting my donations on being told that I am blocked and there is nothing they can do to remove it. Once again my mind goes to the worst possible answer. Sometimes I feel as if I brought this upon myself, always fearing if I was infertile and if I could ever get pregnant. Now my worst fear is in a way coming true. Yes I can create life, but I can’t keep it and protect it. 
I’m looking forward to summer vacation. My first spiritual journey began to flourish during my summer vacation I believe last year. I have long days to myself to really focus on the me and the person I want to become. I can reconnect with my emotions and how to handle the good and extinguish the bad. I’m able to be one with Mother Earth and embrace all the beauty she has to offer. I’m hoping that’s all I need this time again. Just a little R&R to get back on the right path.
Sincerely Me

Surviving Through The Madness

Surviving Through The Madness

Rocking back and forth on an uncertain cliff. “Should I give up or continue the good fight?” I preach words of fighting through the darkness and just faking it until you make it, but in the end do I really believe it myself? How easy would it be to just throw my hands in the air and bow out with my dignity still intact? These are things I ask myself everyday.

Recently I was approached by a long lost friend to hear out a gifted individual who helped impact her life in a very positive way. I was a little skeptical but still wanted to give it a chance. I’m feeling broken and lost. Unable to muster up the energy to believe my own lies of happiness. I need a map through this dark hole I’ve found myself in and if this girl can help me I’m willing to give it a shot.

With a little bit of skepticism and a small amount of hope I began to ask my questions, afraid of the answers I’d get in return. The first response threw me for a loop. I was shaken to my core. I knew that things would need to change. I can’t continue on this path. But how? How do I find the light when there is so much darkness around me? I used to be able to pretend enough to actually believe it myself. It got so good at faking it that I was no longer acting, that I was actually happy. This time is different, this feels much worse.

There has been only one time in my life when I felt this low, the day that my Nana passed away. The feeling of hopelessness set it immediately. No words could fix the pain that was radiating through my soul. I wanted to die. I wanted to be with her. When people speak of a “broken heart” it’s a true statement. My heart literally felt broken. I just knew that if the doctors would give me an x-ray that it would prove I had a hole in my heart where my Nana had once been. Well it is the same now. I feel physically weak. I barely sleep, force myself to eat, forgetting things that I should easily remember. I feel lost. Like I’m in a nightmare and I can’t wake up.

As I pry myself out of bed in the mornings I whisper to myself, “you can do this” “you are strong” “you have to make it through just one more day” soon enough that one more day turns into another….and another…..and another. I allow myself ten minutes to cry and let it all out so I can continue on with my day. Thoughts of those sweet angels frequent my brain and I’m filled with intense sadness. I excuse myself to the restroom and allow myself to weep. The work day ends and I return home. I’m angry by this point. Mad at the parents who have children that they neglect. Mad at people who don’t understand my sadness. Mad at people who have the audacity to try to hurt others. I’m just angry. I don’t want to talk, to engage. I feel like I’ve paid my dues for the day.

At the beginning of my journey I set out to find the old me. To “manifest a little mess” which if you haven’t been following my blog, is my nickname since I was a child. I wanted to find the old me that had been absent for quite some time. I found her. Life was good. Really good! But somewhere along the way she vanished again. I was rereading past blogs trying to see what I did different the last time around. Trying to find some sanity through all my madness.

I’m going to rediscover my love for meditation. I remember just drifting off into my own world and returning zen and at peace. Lately the thought of it makes me irate; however, I know I need it. I need to tap back into my spiritual being. I’ve become so cynical and negative in all this. As much as I can’t even fathom the idea now I know I need to get back to the gym. Working out always makes me happy in the long run. It’s me time, but me time that I can’t just sit and cry during. My plan of action is to attempt making time for yoga in the morning before I go to work again. In some type of grand illusion to get me centered and rejuvenated for the chaos at work.

I know life is tough right now. Things are not easy. As much as I want to quit my job, give up on school, distance myself from my friends, become a recluse…… I know that isn’t going to help me through this. I need my work to distract me and keep some sort of normalcy going on. I need my friends to lift me up when my legs give out beneath me. For now I’ll continue to “fake it till I make it” in high hopes of actually making it through all this. Just bare with me. Love me a little louder, hug me a lot tighter, and be patient with me. I’m trying as hard as I can muster.

The day after I gave up….

The day after I gave up….

There are moments in your life, tragic, unseen events that grab hold of you and knock the wind out of you. Moments that make you feel as if you can’t go on. The day after I gave up was the day after my 2nd ectopic pregnancy, the sun was shining and I was pissed. “What kind of sick joke is this?” I thought to myself. I stepped outside to grab my pills trying to ease the pain. The air was so smooth, the birds were chirping, everyone was smiling and I wanted to die. 

The day after I gave up we went out to distract ourselves. We visited family had small talk, laughed, and I excused myself to go wallow in my own misery in the bathroom. I looked at this beautiful painting my finances grandmother had painted and wanted to end it right then and there. We went to get our favorite vegan meal and I prayed it would leave a bitter taste in my mouth. As I waited for our food I harped on how long it was taking. I looked across the way and saw a lesbian couple cooing over their baby. Resentment set in and hurt took over my heart. Why is it that they can have a perfectly healthy baby and I lost two? 

The day after I gave up I had nonexistent memories of our sweet girls running on the beach with their father, skim boards in tow. Laughing with beautiful dirty blonde hair and sun kissed olive tan skin. Waving and smiling at me to watch them as they skated off into the ocean waves. 

The day after I gave up we went to a beautiful overlook of Berkeley. We’ve been there time and time again with no success of seeing SanFran in the distance, but the day after I gave up we did. The lights lit up the cities and you could see the spectacular designs on the bridge. 

The day after I gave up my inbox was flooded by my aunts and cousins. By my friends that loved me dear. I was embraced with all this love and support. Yet I still felt alone. 

The day after I gave up I held onto all the things people had been telling me during this pregnancy. “This time it’s going to be okay” “you don’t have to worry” “it’s all in your head” 

The day after I gave up I told myself it was okay to let go. People will continue on and understand why you did. You will see your babies and be the mother to them you didn’t have the chance to be.

The night after I gave up I layed my head down and tried to fall asleep. I woke up to the sound of my love crying while he slept. I stroked his head and tried to comfort him softly without waking him. His breathing became a song along with the thump thump of his heart beat. It drifted into a lullaby as if to help me fall back to a peaceful slumber.

The morning I decided to fight the sunlight shinned through my window and I was greeted with a kiss from my love. My heart was sad but hopeful. The pain remained but I had a new look on life. Once again I held dear to the people who reached out and loved me through the tragic experience and told myself how I wouldn’t want them to feel the pain of loss as I am feeling it now. The morning I decided to fight I was told that my babies mattered and we’re shining down on me being looked after by my Nana. The morning after I decided to fight I was reminded of who I am and what I come from. A family of women who are survivors. Cancer, lupus, autoimmune diseases, drug addictions, and no infant loss. The morning i decided to fight was the morning I started fully living again.

The Due Date

​Hurled over my steering wheel crying my eyes out. Tears pouring out in a heavy stream, my knuckles and wrists sore from punching my windows so hard I’m surprised they didn’t break. Heart shattered like glass. I had to keep it together, I didn’t want to come in to the house and let everyone know, once again I was losing it. Screaming at God for doing this to me. “I don’t ask you for anything! Please! Please! This one thing! Fix it! Give it back to me! I’ll do anything I pleaded!” But still you were gone.
After I lost my sweet little bird I cried for days, weeks, but after time people begin to forget. I couldn’t forget. You were mine and I was yours. We were apart of one another. Our souls meshed into one. I tried to keep myself busy so I didn’t have another episode, but after something like that I believe it’s easier said then done. A month had passed and I was finally able to go a day without crying, the dark thoughts had subsided, and I was starting to heal. When people notice you are starting to feel like you self again they try to knock you back down, keep you in your place. I had someone who I thought was my friend tell me they were going to do a nice act by finding me and gifting to me something in remberance of you. In the end it was a ploy to hurt me. I broke down again. It may seem silly to others, but anyone who has gone through a loss like that knows that every thing surrounding the tramatic situation is a trigger. Babies, the ribbon, the name, birthdays, everything. Once again I had to mend my heart and start a new. I’ve been fine for weeks now. The occasional sad thoughts, but I try to keep it positive. I don’t allow myself to feel the pain, as bad as it hurts.

“One week and two days” the email read. I opened it not really paying much attention to the sender. “You’re baby is the size of a leek! You’re due date is one week and two days….” it went one but the words got jumbled. I wanted to scream, but the boys would hear me. Instead I rolled over and let it out into my pillow, the maturity pillow I bought the same day I found out. Today it feels like I’ve lost you all over again. I keep telling myself to be strong, think positive, but every beat of my heart won’t let you go. “Does this ever get better?”,  I write to my ectopic pregnancy group hoping for some sort of comfort. Just to delete the thred. Knowing any words or reply will just numb the pain for a millisecond. I’m was just looking for a band aid.

 People tell me a God has a plan. I try with all my soul to envision this “plan”. If they only knew that I had forced myself to be around people because I was so scared of what I might do if I was alone back then. It’s hard to not be angry at God. With all the suffering from something like losing a baby causes, what could possibly be positive from all that. As time as gone on I try to just my mind clear of any negative thoughts surrounding it.

I’ve had to implement a new self help/ coping strategy when ever I feel that the day is just going to get to me. If I’m at home I’ll take a nice relaxing bath or I’ll go sit outside. Fresh air helps clear my mind. When I’m at work I’ll try to focus really hard on what I’m doing, I through myself into every activity we have going that day. Anything to keep me busy. I’ll play music to help me focus on something else. Trying to decipher what the artist might have been trying to convey at the time. If none of this helps then I’ll excuse myself to the restroom and just allow the tears to fall. I’m only human and I can only be strong for so long before I break. 7 times out of 10 the tears win. But I know that one day I’ll be able to look back on this and forget all the sadness it caused and just remember how amazing and happy I felt when I was oblivious to it all and my thoughts were just filled with you.