Baby Names are FRUSTRATING!

Just a quick little blurp... Because it's currently frustrating me. No, not pregnant (that I know of anyway). Just to clarify.

DH wants to name our next son Hunter Thomas. And he's NOT hearing me when I say "NO!". That was the name we agreed on for Joseph before he passed away. I'm just not okay with the name. It'll never belong to that child. It's someone elses name that never got it. And I just can't see my next child having that name. I mean, as long as he gets a good middle name, I can call him by that... because his mother won't call him Hunter unless he's in trouble! But it's just frustrating that he won't consider MY feelings on the name. His dad picked it out and that's his argument. I'm not against the name, but not as a first name.

Gotta VENT! Well, and catch up.

So, where did I leave off? Ohh, I was going crazy. Well, I got that part fixed. They put me on Lexapro after I finally admitted to myself I was losing my mind. I seriously couldn't breathe or function without crying and I cried ALL the time about nothing. I guess I was on that for about a 28 days before Tom finally told his mom that we were going to try for a baby. I'm definitely leaving some stuff out inbetween... like me getting a job and being absolutely miserable until after I got medicated... and I cared about a lot of things I hadn't cared about in a long time.

So I quit taking the Lexapro about a month now, I guess it would be. I quit taking my birth control and now we're just kinda waiting for life to happen. Literally. I expected to be more nervous, maybe a little scared. But I'm actually oddly comfortable and calm about the idea of trying again. At first I thought that I didn't want one... but I think that was mostly me trying to protect my "best interests". I have a hard time being weak-and I feel that's what I've been since I've been with Tom. It's hard for me to not protect myself and let someone else do it for me.

And onto the venting portion. Fuck, life just sucks sometimes. I guess I should just know better than to expect people to use common sense just because I do. I don't get it. I truly don't. For example... my sister. Such a sore subject if you know her... but the thing is is she's got a son that's about 18 months, whom has spent most of his life with my mom and step dad in Challis and has spent the other half of his life being juggled between states, between homes... he's going to grow up fucked up because of her inconsistency. And she still sends him to bed with a bottle because it's easier for her. I finally unblocked her on facebook so I could tell her how I feel and she called my mom crying because I attacked her, when in all actuality I actually attacked her shitty parenting skills. I'm sure I won't be a top knotch parent, but I'd like to believe that I'd be better than her. I just don't know what to do with her. I've decided that it's probably for the best that she blocked me this time because then  I don't have to worry about her nonsense wandering into my life. I'd like to uninvite them from the family gift exchange soley based on the way she's been acting, but according to mother, that's just not appropriate. Oh to be the baby sister...

I've decided I want to go to school for nursing so that I can work with the elderly. Who knows when that'll happen though. There's evidently a really good nursing program here but it's evidently hard to get into. I don't really know what I need to do to have a qualifying chance but I think it would be fun. Is it bad though, that the reason I want to work with them is because I miss my own grandparents and want to borrow someone elses for a while? The reason I've gotten this far in my thought process is because of the job I have right now where
I deliver oxygen to people. I absolutely love my patients, and my boss right now... but I know just as soon as I say I'll stay, she'll turn psycho on me again. She's the primary reason I'm quitting. I was treated soooo poorly by her. And then ever since I got medicated (and got off of it) I'm the better person and more mellow/laid back. It's not a bad thing, I guess. I just wish that I could do what I'm doing, minus the delivering so that I can have this awesome office job and still get/be pregnant and work too. Oh well. Things will happen the way they're supposed to.

Sorry this is kinda all over the place. It's from lack of sleep and trying to beat the clock to bedtime. Ughh. Thanks for reading my nonsense.

I'm going crazy. Fast.

Maybe I'm just crazy. Maybe I'm going crazy. I'm not sure what I am, or who I am. Sometimes I can't tell which side is up, which makes the turbulance of the waves even worse. I have this friend, who doesn't seem to understand what I'm going through. She doesn't seem to get the fact that I'm not just out for self pity. That I ACTUALLY can't socialize sometimes. It takes every ounce of my body to get up in the morning, take a shower, get ready and paint on a happy face just to go to work. Where I don't feel appreciated and get run ragged all day long. Which makes me tired, cranky and upset. Only to have the pressure of a "friend" who always wants me to go to her house (about 10-15 miles out of town, opposite direction of my house) to do nothing. I don't want to socialize. There's days I don't like the face in the mirror, let alone anyone elses face. I don't know if that's normal, but I just can't do this. I thought I was doing so well, and then suddenly I'm not. There's just so many things running through my head. Part of me doesn't want friends, part of me does. But the part that wants friends, doesn't want to "burden" them with my self pity trip. I'm not sure what exactly it is, but I just want to lock myself away from everyone and disappear.

Frustration and Disrespect. And not settling for 2nd best.

My sister announced on her Facebook that she's about 9 weeks pregnant. I just don't understand how a person can announce something like that so early. I waited, like my mother told me to (guilty of being a momma's girl), until after my 1st trimester, until out of my "danger zone" before telling God and everyone my "awesome news". That's not the part that's truly frustrating. It's me being in Wyoming, her in Boise, homeless, her husband a lazy and worthless person that's willing to take handouts from a church over transferring to his gas station attendant job like he was supposed to. I think losing a child makes me more tender to them. My nephew is 18 months and is being tossed around like a hacky-sack. He's been bounced from my sister's husand's parents house, to my mom's house when my dumb sister filed for divorce, only to go back to him 4 months later... where they lived until the beginning of September... to my dads house because they had no place to go. NOW, my sister and her dumb husband are, or were living in this little stinking motel with a kitchen in it in Boise because my sister stuck her nose where it doesn't belong and got herself kicked out. My mom took Benjamin home with her because my sister couldn't afford to feed him. I told my mom today that if she doesn't keep him, then I'm going to call CPS on my sister. We have to look out for the children. She's having children and not looking out for their best interests like she SHOULD be. I wish, for 10 seconds, she could feel how I feel and have a little "ah-ha" moment to realize what she's doing is WRONG. I'm not jealous of her and the fact that she's having another when I lost mine. I'm angry that she's just popping them out and not giving it a 2nd thought. She's planning on living off the state, obviously. Since neither her or Justin are getting jobs. It's kind of disgusting to think about.

On a positive note, I'm switching doctors. Hopefully this new one is as awesome as I've been told he is.  I'm hoping this new one will be my saving grace. I don't want to go to a doctor that forgets or can't even read a chart 10 seconds before our meeting to know that I lost my child and it's not going to be attending the appointment. He had said, or told my nurse, that I'd be a perfect candidate for the TAC (transabdominal cerclage), so I'm hoping this new doctor sees it the same way. I'm not settling for a cerclage procedure with a less successful rating. I'm NOT going through this again. I'm ready to move forward. As soon as I get this appointment done, and the TAC done too, I'm making that next move. I need to. Those are 3 words I never thought I'd say, but I'm ready.

New baby frustration.

My sister announced to Facebook yesterday that she's having a new baby and I'm wholeheartedly LESS than thrilled.

First off, she can't afford the one she's got. She's been "borrowing" money from people left and right. Infact, not even 2 weeks ago, asked me for "a little money-$50 should cover it"... and then posted on Facebook a couple days ago that Benjamin was screaming from his crib because they didn't have any milk. Definitely a place I want to bring a child into the world in. NOT.

Secondly, perhaps it's me being jaded by the previous fact, or the fact that I just lost one and she showed no sympathy whatsoever, and then calls me all overjoyed obviously NOT thinking about about how I might feel about it. I feel guilty for writing it as I think it through in my head, trying to put it into words. But it's hard to explain my "frustration". Because it's not fair to her to be mad that she wants another baby. It's not fair to blame her for being excited that she's having another. It's not fair to her for me feeling the way I am right now. It's selfish of me in a way. But, she can't afford the 17 month old son she has as it is, how can she even fathom the idea of bringing ANOTHER life, another MOUTH that she can't feed, into this miserable world. It bothers me that she peed on a stick and called me and then posted it on Facebook before telling our Mother or seeing a doctor. I'm jaded because of what I went through, that I wouldn't be going around just throwing it on people. And all of a sudden, I'm just SUPER pissed off that she's procreating and I can't. And maybe that's why I'm so mad. I can't think straight, I had dreams about babies all night last night, which isn't really helping my "situation"...

Am I wrong for not wanting to be super excited for her? Because I really feel like I'm being a snatchface for not basking in her "glory". I just really want to pound her head against a wall until she thinks clearly.

Not only that, but my sisters husband sent me a really nasty message saying that God took away my child because I would be a shitty parent. What kind of person could say stuff like that?

The Last Couple Weeks... Yikes.

Started a new job, lugging around oxygen concentrators and tanks... It's been 2 weeks, and I can't decide whether I like it or not. I'll be getting a paycheck (HOPEFULLY) on the 16th. Guess that will make up my mind. "T" told me that I had to get a job, as outlined in the "Trying Again" contract he set up back in June. The only thing is, is this job- it's ME... and the Location Manager. No one else. So it's not like I can conveniently quit whenever he decides he's ready to try again. Which means, no trying again for QUITE a long time. Which is good and bad. I feel like there's a void in my life. Like I'm lost. But at the same time, it's kind of nice to not have another mouth to feed right now. It's like we just can't catch up/save money. So not having an extra mouth, not having an extra expense, not having to find a babysitter to go play softball on Thursdays, it's almost kind of peaceful in a way. I told "T" I wasn't sure I wanted another baby- that damn near caused a break down. I didn't think he wanted one as bad as he does. Guess I really am NOT as observant as I claimed to be.

Thinking of "Trying Again", my book FINALLY came 2 weeks ago. I got just a couple of pages into it before realizing what I was REALLY up against. Not only do I have to worry about pPROM and the cerclage possibly NOT working, I also have to worry about chromosomal abnormalities, it being ectopic or this amniotic band syndrome... Oh, or something happening AFTER it's born (heaven forbid, SIDS)... You really just can't win. I just never realized how set up for failure you CAN be, and how lucky you are if you can get pregnant in the first place AND carry a HEALTHY child. Sorry for all the caps locked stuff... I guess I like yelling crazy words and putting emphasis on how truly scary a pregnancy is. And then, the book took me to a section that basically asks whether a person wants to have another baby or if they want the baby that died... and it really made me think. There's not a day that goes by, that I wouldn't LOVE to reverse time, knowing what I know now, and fix this situation. Making Joseph still be here (but if he was still here, I'd be coming up to 8 months, and he'd be Hunter like he was supposed to have been... another story... ughhh). Because, truly, I'd rather have him than another baby. Losing one truly puts the next one in the lime light. Thinking of lime light, my sister conveniently is pregnant again- her husband works at a convenient store, they're about to move to Baker City, OR and they have a 17mo old that they already have to beg for money to feed. Something that really pisses me off is the fact that she doesn't consider the effects her decisions have on her 17 month old son, let alone this new child. People that just want pregnancy attention piss me off. I've been on somewhat of a stress/depressed soapbox for the last 2 weeks. Stress from the new job and feeling like I've been kinda tossed in to see if I'll sink or swim, and depressed... well... it just kinda popped up like the 24 hour flu. I was crying at softball for NO apparent reason on Thursday. It was pitiful. And then woke up, conveniently, Friday morning in a REALLY bad mood. It's been a rough couple weeks.

I Have To Admit.

The thing that I hate most about Gillette, is the shitty memories I've made since being here. I didn't really want to move here in the first place, but what was I supposed to do? Be pregnant, live with my Mom and be a bum? NO THANKS. So I got married and moved to Hell. This isn't supposed to be a pity trip... It's just "the beginning". We moved here, we lived with "T's" "best friend" and his wife who treated us like crap and were hot and cold toward us the whole time we lived there, we had to sleep on this bed set that I inherited from my Grandparents that was super old and uncomfortable (and any pregnant person WOULD bitch, just saying), and then we lost our baby. All this in 2.5 months.

Today (now yesterday), I was driving home from a friends house when something hit me. It took me back to June 6th; The day I would LOVE to have erased from the calendar. The day we lost our son. I didn't want to get up early to go yard saling. I wanted to SLEEP. All I did was sleep, but weekends were the GREATEST time to sleep in for some reason. But we got up, showered, I wore a relatively new dress that I'd bought last summer for a trip to California. It still had the tags on it. Put make up on, did my hair all cute. We had breakfast, went out to this place called Sleepy Hollow. It's a large subdivision made up of older 2 story style houses. Sleepy Hollow does this subdivision yard sale thing where everyone pulls out their stuff and puts a high dollar on it. It's like an expensive thrift store... so you walk through, window shop and gawk at all the ridiculous prices. We spent 2 hours wandering through, looking at all the houses and their treasures. The same patch of houses I have to drive past to go to a friends house. It was the last pleasant memory I have before life as I knew it crumbled around me. But it TOTALLY sucks. There's sooo many things I would have done differently while I was pregnant... but I would never change what's happened.

I don't regret my son. I just regret the loss of him. It's nothing I could have prevented and there was no way of knowing IT could "happen". A friend had said in something that she wrote, that losing a baby is something that "happens" to people who didn't receive the proper prenatal care. Losing a baby is something only "happens" to people who do drugs and other bad things. It doesn't "happen" to us-the people who wanted a baby. People who had plans for their child. Never a plan to go home from the hospital empty handed. People who received the proper care. People who were in the beginnings of having a perfectly healthy baby. Because we HAD received the proper care and made good decisions. We HAD done right by our babies. But as fate would have it, our plans have been dashed. And we'll always be one step behind or ahead of our friends who never have to experience this. One step behind, being we're the people who are broken hearted. Having to go on with our lives, having one physical child less than anyone can physically see. But one step ahead, because we've "been there, done that" and we're mentally prepared for the worst. Should it step in our way again. "Because it will." I don't want to be one step ahead OR behind ANYONE. I want to even with everyone else. I don't want to be standing in this "window", watching my friends perfect lives, having perfect husbands and perfect pregnancies, and going home with perfect babies. I want to be one of them, never having to detach yourself from a pregnancy to make it through it, just in case. Basking in all the pregnancy glory. I can't be one of those people. I can't be someone who enjoys life's every minute. I have a missing puzzle piece. And I'm pretty sure it wasn't the dog that ate it.

FitPregnancy.com and the mass amounts of CRAP I read...

This one will be rather short. I'm just documenting the fact that I broke down and bought a book... on amazon.com actually, for... GET THIS... $0.01... It cost me a whopping $4. What book, you ask? Oh, this book I found as a reference on fitpregnancy.com (like the title? lol.) called Trying Again: A Guide to Pregnancy After Miscarriage, Stillbirth and Infant Loss by Ann Douglas and John R Sussman , M.D. (Taylor 2000) (not sure if that part is supposed to be in there, but it was on the website, so I just added it too)... I figured, why not just have it to have it. And if I get bored one day, I'll read it. Never hurts to have reference books to shit you want to forget, right? In the mass amounts of thinking I do now, I've come to the conclusion that I don't really want to forget EVERYTHING... just the hole in my heart, the jealous feeling of all my friends having their baby showers, and talking and posting about their babies... I hate jealousy. Just saying. I just want to forget the pain I feel NOW. Because I'd give ANYTHING to feel like I want to puke after brushing my teeth again. ANYTHING. Sometimes, I feel like I'll never get that back. Because the more time I sit here, thinking about it (because that's all I feel like I do sometimes), the more scared I get that the same thing is going to happen again even IF there's a cerclage. Even IF we take the steps to "prevent" it from happening again. There's no saying that that's the sole problem. It could be a million things. I'm scared it will happen again. I'm scared I won't make it through that kind of heartbreak again. So anywho. I broke down and ordered this book online. I'm sure I'll post random stuff on here that I read. In case my (current) reader(s) (I added the potential at the end... ya know, just in case) go through the same thing and get interested whether this one cent book is worth is coin. Guess we'll see <3

Oh, football cards.

I have no where to vent... and so since I only have one follower, I'm taking advantage of this while I can.

My husband has a football card obsession. At first, I would have classically described it as a collection, however lately... it's far more than that. Working a miner's shiftwork, he just rolled off nights. Me being anxious to spend time with my husband, I was antsy to wake him at 3pm. And it seems that today, just like every other day recently, has been spent in front of his computer, watching football card box breaks. Basically, to explain to those of you who aren't familiar (I wasn't until recently...) insane people buy these extremely overpriced boxes of packages of cards which hold a ridiculous resale value, put up a bid online for a "buy in" and those people pick teams and pay, say... $3/team they want cards from. And my husband has had me check the mail every day since Tuesday to check for packages of those cards he's "won" from those card breaks. I'm about to lose my mind. And the reason I'm about to lose my mind, is because I'm anxiously awaiting time to be spent with ME. But even as I sit here and type, it being almost 2:15am... the TV is on and his computer is open and he's watching a football card box break with some southern redneck babbling about his first Tim Tebow card, like I'm supposed to listen and care. I try, but it's getting really old... really quick. No longer does he have the attention for me. We started Avatar at about 9pm... he paused it to go to the bathroom where he took advantage of watching a box break... and upon returning to the couch... that's where he's stayed. Computer open, random box break babblers talking away in their football gibberish... not really talking but to extend what sounds to me like a pity "I love you" from down the hall. With Avatar still paused.

Yay for being married to a football card junkie.

How It Is, And How It's Obviously Gonna Be.

Not sure who thought it was a great idea, but the cemetery, it's in the middle of town. It's the only cemetery in this town... and it's smack dab, right in the freakin middle. Right behind a park, next to the Family Dollar... In the middle of town. I haven't been there since the day after Father's Day. I mean, I say hi to him from the street... without turning up the road, heading into the actual cemetery itself... But making that trip UP THERE... brings it all back. And last time I was there, I cried. Part of me wants that part of my life to be over. Sometimes I think that if I was just to let him and the memory of him go, that I might be able to live a semi normal life. Instead of always knowing that I have a deceased child laying in a cemetery... It's just hard to go and sit there... staring at his little name plate (headstone hasn't been ordered. Why are those damn things so expensive?!) with nothing more on it but "Joseph Arley Blatz"... "2011". It's not like I have anything to say to him. He was a fish in my belly for 19 weeks and 6 days. I never felt him kick. And after he was born, I never looked at his face and never touched him. And I'm starting to regret it... but it's over. There's nothing I can do. I just hope that when I meet him face to face, that he's not mad at me for it. It's not that I didn't love him, I just wanted to love the memory of him... not what he looked like half developed. I actually didn't start to regret not looking at him until I accidentally stumbled upon videos on YouTube of people who had taken pictures of their baby about the same distance along in their pregnancy who had gone through the same thing I did. But I think that people all handle things differently. And I wouldn't have handled that well at all. I guess, I just felt we didn't have much of a connection other than the obvious and that I have nothing to say. Because if Heaven is anything like I think it is, then he can see me and he knows what I'm doing. I just hope that God's covering his eyes during the naughty parts of my life. Poor kid.

Softball

So I started playing softball with people from my husbands work about a week ago. Last night was our 4th practice and "T" took my car to work, so I caught a ride with my friend Jess. And we were LATE. So we get to the park and finally find the team and get ready to go in the field. There's a couple new people and one pops around the corner and introduces herself to me. Her name is Miranda and she says I look familiar. I knew who she was as she walked around the corner. She was the only nurse that had ANY positivity in ER when I was there that first night everything happened. She's one hell of an awesome lady. And she's married to one of the guys that work with "T". I couldn't believe it! I believe people are put in our paths for a reason. I'm just wondering what she's here for. Again :)

5 Week Follow Up.

So, my appointment was at 3:50 yesterday, and I waited for him longer than I saw him.

He's decided that we're going to skip the other tests to rule out any of the other things he thought it might have been that my water broke... Which is good. It makes me feel that I did my research well enough to prove that it WASN'T anything else. I'm confident it's an incompetent cervix and nothing else. We talked briefly about the cerclage's that can be put in place [[my husband and I had already done our research and were beating him to the info; it was awesome :)]] and whatnot. I was "released" to do whatever I wanted. His words were "Whatever, whenever. Anything and everything." He DID tell us to wait at least 2 months before trying again. Which is fine with us because we just started playing softball with "T's" work so we'll be pretty busy with practice and games and whatnot. That, and "T" would like me to find a job, us get some money saved up so that we can start a family and be financially prepared. Now comes the fun part. Finding a job in a new place that doesn't have me doing crazy stuff that will be something I can do once we DO get pregnant again.

The only down side to the appointment yesterday was that I left kinda sad. Sad for 2 reasons. I got the vitals done and sat in a room and waited for my doctor to come in only to look for my baby and he ACTUALLY ASKED US... where our baby was. I was kinda pissed. Who the heck does that? But I have to take into account that my appointment was originally scheduled for the morning, only to get there and check in to find that my doctor was at the hospital taking care of someone who's water broke at 25 weeks. Poor gal. At least her baby is viable and she can be transported to Denver. I never stood a chance :( And the other reason I was sad was because "T" announced THEN that he didn't want to try again any time soon. And, I'm kind of in the same boat. As excited as I am to start trying again, and to have another baby, I'm scared shitless that the same thing will happen again, despite what we'll do. I'm completely terrified. I hope that with these next 6 months, I'll become more confident that the cerclage will protect my baby and keep it on the inside. Because I'm not sure I could do this again and experience the same broken heart. I think I would die.

However, to close this on a positive note, we've got to remember what the symptoms were of an incompetent cervix, and remember how it happened [[as much as I DON'T wanna remember]], and know that that procedure WILL indeed work. We have to stay positive. Right? <3

Dealing.

It's funny how there's a list of things that we'll go through as we're grieving for our loss. Shock, Denial, Anger, Guilt... But where's the one about sweeping it under the rug to not have to face it? Where's the one that says it's okay to put the problem out of sight and out of mind until it's a convenient time to "deal" with it? Because I'm definitely a person that sweeps things under the rug to not have to deal with it today.

I can safely say that the "shocked" section of it took place for the first 5 minutes after my doctor checked me only to discover a foot after a day and a half... almost 2 days, actually... of things looking SOOO incredibly positive. I had 5 minutes to "digest" the fact that it was over. And that moment came when there was no heartbeat on the ultrasound monitor and only my sons head left in my uterus. I had to act fast because it was happening whether I wanted it to or not.

Guilt is DEFINITELY something I've faced. It's unofficial, but I've Google diagnosed myself with an incompetent cervix. Especially the way things just "happened" without any sort of signs-no pain, no contractions for the dilated cervix... The day that I could have kicked myself was the day that I called to see if the pathology report had come back on the placenta they'd sent off. My favorite nurse, Crystal, told me there was nothing wrong with any of it. I had a premature placenta, the cord was perfect... there was nothing abnormal that gave them any signs for the premature birth. That was more or less a slap in the face. There was nothing wrong with my child. It was my body that couldn't hold it together. The fact that I lost my husbands son, the one that would pass along the family name. I did that. There was nothing wrong with my baby. Not a damn thing.

I think Anger went hand in hand with Guilt. I was and still am angry at the fact that it happened.  I was mean to my husband. I snapped at people for no reason. Someone that I knew even deleted their Facebook after a tangent. All because he said "everything happens for a reason..." and that "God needed him". How could God need him when He JUST had my son? You can't say everything happens for a reason to a woman who just lost her child. That's like asking to be punched in the face. And it REALLY bothered me that a man could say that to me. That a man, not having to change their diet and exercise routines, having to watch how much weight they pick up, making sure there was no smoke blowing in their face, could say those things like he knew where I was coming from. My husband wouldn't ever say that to me. That man didn't have to carry that fetus inside of them, and dream of the day it would be born and who that baby would be in 20 years. Only to have those dreams shatter within 15 minutes. Maybe I over reacted, I'm still waiting on my heart to make up its mind. Maybe things do happen for a reason, but that still doesn't make it okay to say.

Maybe the whole "sweeping" thing is part of denial. Because if you hide from it, then it never happened. Right? Because sometimes I'd like to think that that's easier. That hiding from my problems would make them go away. That the visions I replay of that "funeral" service we had, all those flowers and the cute little bear... and the little paper mache' box with the green bow on it never happened. Or my water breaking, and being in the ER for 3 hours with negative people surrounding me, and then a whole day and a half [[total positive time]] thinking things were looking up, only to have everything shatter never really happened. That they are all a figment of my imagination. Like they came from a movie, or someone else's life. And that seeing my 14 week old fetus floating around inside of my belly was someone else's. Because if it never happened, then it can't hurt, right? Perhaps I'll never know how to sweep everything under that big rug, but I'll keep trying until that dust pops back out. Because today isn't looking very good to stop and think about it, and neither is tomorrow. And tomorrow never comes in my book... It'll happen someday. Or it may never happen.

Talking with a friend who lost her baby at 32 weeks, she told me that part of her healing was getting pregnant again. My husband is on the fence about it now. At first he was fine and dandy with the idea of trying for another baby. I went as far as to sit next to my Josephs name plate and talk to him, even though he probably couldn't hear or understand me if he was a baby, and I told him and reassured him that if there was another baby that there was no way he would ever be replaced. I wanted to make sure he knew that I loved him with my whole heart, that there was a piece that was missing that I could never get back, and that this other baby wouldn't be able to fill that void, just mend it for a while. Because a piece of me feels jipped. Like my maternal rights were revoked before I had a chance to vouch for myself. I'd like to think I'd be a good mother. That I could raise a child. But how can I prove that to myself and the world if my counterpart is still "on the fence" about it. I'm sure he's scared of going through this again. I'm not sure that I'd be a sane person if this happened again. The saying "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" is as much full of shit as saying "Everything happens for a reason". Just because it doesn't kill you now, doesn't mean it won't kill you if it happens again. And I think I deserve a chance. So I'll give him some more time. What else can I do? Steal it from him? ^_^

Post Partum?

So, it hit me like a ton of bricks about a week ago. I was sitting on the couch, listening to music on YouTube... and I started crying for, what seemed to me, no reason. After talking with a couple friends, maybe my heart isn't healed... or maybe my heart is healed but my brain isn't. That just didn't make any sense. But as I Googled "Postpartum Depression", I had 8 of the 9 symptoms that WebMD had to offer. All... but suicide. Which is good. I'm not complaining about that part. I PROMISE.

Then the next day, little things set me off to make me cry. Little things like my husband calling from work, wanting to go to lunch and then him showing up 5 minutes later wanting to leave and me being FAR from ready to go. Or a friend who might not actually be a friend chewing my ass for something I didn't intend to do (Don't lie or hide stupid things from your husbands/wives. It's baddddd when someone tells them before you...). Or having to give false apologies to save face with the husbands best friend. Just a bunch of stupid stuff. Evidently that's all normal too.

And then as fast as it showed up, it was gone again. I'm still super spacey and can't focus on a lot of things... and my "bubbly" nature hasn't resurfaced. And I feel super angry and bitter sometimes too. It's just irritating. It seemed like spending 5 days with my husband on his days off really seemed to help. I think it's losing Joseph, living in a small town where I have no one but my husband and having nothing to do that spiked the depression. I like the fact that it's gone [[for now]] and that I'm feeling better about everything. I met a new friend, so I'm hoping that makes the difference too.

June 4th-7th, 2011

June 4th, we had gotten up early to do some yard saling. We came home a few hours later after raking in our treasures and I'd helped move a camper shell. We had a friends son's birthday party to head out to at 2pm, so I ran back in the house to go to the bathroom and get cleaned up before heading out to play some video games and eat pizza. TMI-While using the bathroom, I felt this weird bulge... I tried to ignore it, thinking it was just a muscle freaking out. When it did it again, lower... I got weirded out. When I touched it, it popped and water gushed everywhere. It started out clear, then went pink. We went to ER, the birthday present in the backseat [[just in case]]. I feared it was the amniotic sac, but some research said that it could have been a couple other things that wouldn't have been so bad. After laying in ER for 3 hours, and being told that if my baby was born alive they'd sit "it" somewhere to let it die because it wasn't between 20 and 24 weeks and wasn't viable [[meaning baby wouldn't have been able to survive as baby's lungs weren't developed]]. Laying in the same blood and junk for 3 hours. Laying in a bed, not being told ANYTHING positive, they finally moved me to the OB floor. No cramping, no fever, no anything. Baby still had a strong heartbeat but not a lot of fluid. I received an IV with an antibiotic every 6hrs to prevent infection. They listened to his heartbeat a couple times and carted me off to ultrasound once. It was reassuring to know that the Hulk baby wasn't giving up so easily. June 5th came and went without any pain, cramping or pressure. I thought things were finally looking up. And I was just waiting for more good news. What I honestly wanted to hear was that the amniotic sac had repaired itself, fluid was regaining and that things would be fine. Nothing happening to me was giving me hope that everything was fine. My doctor popped in to see how things were and to make sure I was doing good. He said that if there was no progress one way or the other by Monday, that I could go home. June 6th came with breakfast and lunch. A few of my favorite nurses were there that day that had been there Saturday night when I was admitted to their floor. They left my door open, wandered in and out to say hi or check on me. Leaving the door open, I saw new babies being transported to their awaiting parents and it didn't bother me. It was heart warming, knowing that there was a new baby, happy and healthy, being taken to their parents. I was still hopeful. About 5pm, supper came. 5:15pm brought slight cramping and 5:30pm brought my doctor who was all smiles, telling me I could go home. Until I told him that I was cramping and not feeling so well. He checked my cervix, to see if I was dilated and found a foot. When he checked my uterus via ultrasound, the baby's head was the only thing left inside and he told me there was no heartbeat. Before I could even accept what was happening, it was basically over. I delivered a breech baby boy at 6pm whom we named Joseph Arley Blatz. "T" watched the whole thing as his "closure". The placenta wouldn't detach so between the doctor and a nurse, they put a total of 8 little pills inside to get it to release. In the middle of feeling like I was dying from the intense cramps, my favorite nurse Mary left me. She had helped me deliver Joseph and was the mother I needed and didn't have available. When she left, "T" had been gone for about a half hour to let our dogs out and to breathe. A lot had just happened. He needed his time too. So I was left by myself, feeling like I was bleeding to death, like my heart had just been ripped out. I started bawling. I couldn't help myself. It was the worst thing I'd ever been through, and now I was alone to focus on it. All I wanted was the placenta to detach so that I could go home and cry in private. Nurses kept coming in and I didn't want to visit. "T" finally came back and cried and hugged on him for as long as I could stand. I hadn't realized how much I needed him until then. Monica was actually the nurse that told me that I could bury Joseph. I had no idea. At only 19w6d, he wasn't much more than a fish, and since it was before 20 weeks, I was told that I had no responsibility to him, as far as burying him went. Monica put me in touch with people to release his little body to a funeral home and get all the information to bury him. I was released the morning of the 7th. A sore, tired lady missing a piece of her heart.

I got in contact with the funeral home and we arranged for a small service to be held that Friday the 10th. As much as I wanted my family to be there, I needed to get it over with. My heart hurt sooo bad. And I thought burying Joseph would bring my own closure. So, at 3:30pm that Friday, an LDS bishop said a prayer and we entered our son into the earth.

"T" and I took an adventure to South Dakota just to get out of town. We started out in Deadwood, SD and gambled and goofed off. "T" won $550 which paid for most of our adventure. The next day, we did some sight seeing around town and then headed up to Mt Rushmore, which was smaller than I expected but still completely awesome. We closed up the evening getting some old time pictures done and then eating dinner. It was pouring rain so we headed 20 miles into Rapid City, SD where we stayed the night. The next morning, we had breakfast, wandered around the mall and then headed home. It was a remarkable weekend. I honestly feel like it was what we needed.

Post Number 1: Bringing you up to Speed.

I met my [[now]] husband in a bar October 2nd, 2010. I had met his sister a week or so prior at a friends house when she came to pick up her 2 boys. At the bar that night, she commented on my shirt and then talked to me for a bit then went back to conversation with her friends. A little while later, she was coming up to me to introduce her brother-a handsome man with brown hair and an auburn goatee, the same color as my hair [[should have been before dying it darker]] and the most beautiful blue eyes I'd ever seen. At that point in time, I had no idea that he'd be the person that would steal my heart. He bought me a beer, put his arm around me and from that day forward, showed me how to appreciate life through little things, and never left my side. I made the leap to move in with him November 14th, 2010-We borrowed my step dads truck and we followed my mom to Boise, ID where we met up with my brother, his girlfriend, my sister and her 9mo old son and packed and moved everything from the house I lived in with roommates into the truck. That was when everything got real.

We got the first positive pregnancy test January 7th, 2011... we were getting ready to go out to see our favorite local band play when the test came up positive. Talk about a shock. I couldn't even breathe at first. I never thought it would happen. Reason being, "T" had thyroid cancer as a child and went through surgery and radiation to have it removed. There should have been a slim to none chance of us getting pregnant. Talk about defying odds! We told the parents and were going to wait to start telling friends. It got leaked to FaceBook within 24hrs. So, there it was... broadcasted we were pregnant to the public. I had to go to Challis, ID to house sit for my mom while they went out of town for doctor appointments that week. I went bowling for women's league with my mom Thursday, the night before I was to head back to Idaho Falls. I woke up from taking a nap, and started spotting. Didn't really think much of it until the bleeding got worse on Friday. I booked it back to Idaho Falls, and waited until 6pm when "T" got off from work. We went to ER and were told it was a miscarriage. January 14th, the bleeding got remarkably worse, cramps started... and "being pregnant" was over.

Little did we know, 11 days later we were pregnant again. Before we "found out"... "T" lost his job, had a phone interview for Cummins Rocky Mountain in Wyoming on my birthday [[beginning of Feb]] and next thing we knew we were headed out to Wyoming to check out the area. The job was basically in the bag before we left Wyoming, but it was "unofficial"... We got back to Idaho, "T" and I packed up our entire house [[by ourselves]], moved our stuff to storage [[by ourselves]] and then headed to Challis and Boise to spend the last few weeks with family and friends before making the voyage out of state.  The "offer letter" came in the mail that said his start date was March 28th, 2011. The last Monday that we were in Idaho, we went to the court house to make "us" "official". March 21st, I because a Mrs :)  March 22nd, we picked up our stuff, went back to Idaho Falls with our doggies and loaded our storage unit into a Uhaul, ate dinner and left for Dillon, MT where we stayed the night. Now, during this "move"... I slipped and fell on the ice HARD, twisted my ankle, lifted FAR MORE than 30lbs... We fondly called our baby "Hulk"-because once we found out we WERE pregnant, we'd experienced more than that baby deserved to withstand.

"T's" insurance started April 1st. Our first baby appointment was April 27th to confirm. The second appointment was May 29th, which told us we were a whopping 14w3d pregnant and we got our first and only set of pictures of our Hulk baby. Our third appointment was set for June 17th, which was when we were supposed to find out what the baby was. But we found out wayyy before hand.