in which I say fuck alot
I like the sound of that. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It's a beautiful word, and now, seemingly most appropriate; Matt said it when he heard that we'd lost the baby, Richard "what a shitty fucking year", Jen and I peppered our conversation with several fucks, in each and every variable (but ya know, thinking about it, this isn't unique to this particular conversation) and no fewer than ten of you typed it in your kind and articulate responses.
Thanks for that, it was all so poetic.
So that about sums it up.
I'm not so much sad. I'm not really all that angry either. It's one of those moments where I don't know what I am feeling. Numb is not a good description, as I ache throughout. My almost 30 back feels the pain of an 80 year old who's worked a working mans life, yet I've worked hard very few days.
My mind is filled with sorrow, no doubt, but It might be like the widow, her worst fear having allready been substantiated. Her husband dead. She's dreaded this moment for their entire life together, and now she's fealt the absolute worse. It's happened. What else could go wrong? What could be worse? Nothing like that which has already happened. There's a certain sense of, dare I say it, relief? in all of this.
Wow, this fucking blows.
It's a beautiful word, and now, seemingly most appropriate; Matt said it when he heard that we'd lost the baby, Richard "what a shitty fucking year", Jen and I peppered our conversation with several fucks, in each and every variable (but ya know, thinking about it, this isn't unique to this particular conversation) and no fewer than ten of you typed it in your kind and articulate responses.
Thanks for that, it was all so poetic.
So that about sums it up.
I'm not so much sad. I'm not really all that angry either. It's one of those moments where I don't know what I am feeling. Numb is not a good description, as I ache throughout. My almost 30 back feels the pain of an 80 year old who's worked a working mans life, yet I've worked hard very few days.
My mind is filled with sorrow, no doubt, but It might be like the widow, her worst fear having allready been substantiated. Her husband dead. She's dreaded this moment for their entire life together, and now she's fealt the absolute worse. It's happened. What else could go wrong? What could be worse? Nothing like that which has already happened. There's a certain sense of, dare I say it, relief? in all of this.
Wow, this fucking blows.
posted by justinian at 10:17 AM
5 Comments:
I can really relate your 'ranking' of your grief. It makes sense. Or Fucking sense. I've done it myself both within the context of my own losses and within the context of all the losses in Blogland.
I know what it was like to birth my kids. And I know that a loss later on is much more nightmarish to me than what I have been through. My losses have never made me feel suicidal. A loss like yours would.
It is the downright fucking UNFAIRNESS of this that really angers me. Because at some point you probably will hurt more than now, even if just briefly. But it will always just be grossly unfair.
I dunno Mate, this is just wrong and I want you guys to know you have my support even if I say it all wrong:(
Came here via "HOM" (House of Miao) - just stoppin by to share some love, some bourbon, and some healing energy.
much much love to you....
Shelli
Thanks for popping in. Thanks for commenting. Thanks for keeping us in your thoughts.
What's pissing me off most is that I can't watch. I can't even be in the room, nor can I be in recovery with Laura. I'm delegated to the waiting room, with a snack and soda machine to keep me company.
It's messed up.
Just like 1960. A father waiting in the waiting room for the doc to come out with some news.
Who wants to smoke a cohiba with me?
If I could smoke and swear with you, I would! But I can only swear with you, which as you pointed out we do anyway. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.
I'm sad now, as well as angry and kind of...well I can't quite put my finger on it. Frustrated almost covers it, but there's tinge of despair in there somewhere and disappointment too. And a part of me feels awful for being pregnant right now, and scared it won't turn out right, and then I feel guilty for making it about me and not about you (plural). How about mixed-the-fuck-up? How does that strike you as an emotional category? I think it is all I've got to offer at the moment.
I think it is crap that you can't be there, at least in the recovery room. They did let Laine in to recovery with me once but it was a holiday and there was no one else there and someone (my midwife, I think) played the dead baby card. Otherwise it suck to wait no matter which waiting room you are in.
Mixed the fuck up? I like that, it really captures a feeling - even if, or perhaps because, I can't exactly put a finger on that feeling.
And there's no reason to feel awful about being pregnant. Not at all! Your pregnancy IS all about you, and Laine, even though we are all just as scared about anything or everything going wrong. With this, trust that we're all also pulling for everything to go well and right. ra-ra-ra!!!
I look stunning in a pom pom's and a skirt. Believe you me.
Post a Comment
<< Home