Be at Peace... Baby M&M

I don't want to say goodbye.

I hated seeing that empty ultrasound screen. I have no idea how to process this. I have no idea how to tell your siblings. I don't want to talk about it. I shouldn't have gone in to check.

I hate him for taking you guys from me. I pray that he gets every piece of karma and vengefulness coming to him. I pray that each and every time anyone chooses to cause me more pain that their days are not shortened, but that it merely compounds the interest they will be receiving in the negative future that they will get from using my children to cause me pain.

I remember what someone did on previous times... and those were someone else's to also choose their fate. But, these were mine - willingly left for me to love and unwanted by their daddy. These were stolen from me. And maybe, they wouldn't have made it. But... they were not anyone else's to touch - unless their daddy had changed his mind. Any type of hell is too good for the "man" who did this.

I remember the bleeding and pain from that night and the next day. I remember trying to hide it from your siblings. So much blood. Your brother saw a little bit and panicked... I tried to calm him. Your brother tried to call for help. Everyone was busy though and I calmed him... Mama had this under control. Everything was okay... mind over matter. Take care of the kids. Ignore everything else.

The doctor who was worried about my reality? At least my reality is strong enough to get through a miscarriage at 14-15 weeks alone while still taking care of a 6 year old who isn't sleeping, a 4 year old who is terrified of things that no girl should EVER be scared of, and a splitting headache from getting hit.

Going to the doctor? Wasn't an option. They would have questions about my face. They would call him. They would ignore my attempts at communicating. They wouldn't believe me. They can't help now. There is no help anymore... I found my breaking point.

I wanted it to kill me. But, I couldn't leave the other two.

Not that it matters... no one helps me to protect them either. I know that I can't prove many things, but even the things that I can prove? No one gives a damn about - even when it is their job to give more than a damn!

I am slightly glad that they are gone. It will relieve their daddy of any residual stress or worry from me - even if I can't bring myself to tell him. I can't handle any relief or happiness from him at this level of pain. It means that no one can use them to hurt me... it means that I will be free at 43 again.

I hate myself. I didn't protect them. I was in the moment. I should have paid closer attention. I should have never let them be risked... to have let this happen.

I asked if I caused it... I was on an antibiotic and the doctor said that I couldn't get pregnant, but then a friend said that antibiotics cancel out birth control. I asked the pharmacist... she let me know that in this case, with how I was taking things, the birth control should have worked.

I asked about sex education. Learned about pre-cum. I asked about if I caused this... so many people say no. But, I am not so sure about that. I shouldn't have let my heart open up - I knew better!

The OB had offered to tie my tubes, but now refuses because I might regret that decision. My new doctor agreed to try a new birth control... I want to ensure that this never, ever happens again. It hurts like hell - the new birth control, but hey... at least no man will ever be able to trap me. And no, better birth control doesn't mean that I will ever allow something to not be securely wrapped in a condom near me again.

No chances.

No more babies.

I am done.

I never will allow another piece of my heart to be torn out and crushed - if there is anything left in or of my heart... everything is cold.

I finally told your siblings while their grandma was here. There were so many tears and I'm sure that we will all be grieving for a while... but it's been weeks now. Things should be improving - and yet, it's been about 9 weeks since I lost them and everything still feels cold.

Every sob from my older two... every spike of anger... and I will not tell them when this happened or who likely did this. Ever.

Your brother said yesterday that I killed my own baby. I suppose that is better than him knowing the adult things... and maybe he is right. I shouldn't have relaxed that much that night.

One of my friends got called during that time... but she was busy with her own crisis. The kids called the other friend that told them to call if help was needed... but... we aren't friends and I don't want to see them. Part of me still cares ... and cared enough to make sure that someone remembered their birthday while also being aware that I was probably being so stupid, but the other part? Is cold and dark. The urge to end my pain is back with a vengeance which is weird... because I don't have my shadows, I don't have my spiders, I don't have any of my invisible friends. They all vanished without even a goodbye shortly after I knew for sure that I lost my babies.

I have a couple of friends now. I have my responsibilities. I have a great grasp of the concept of "friends with benefits" - it means that I might remember their name, and if I am feeling the urge to make a stupid decision then they might get a text. It turns out that I am perfectly able to handle friends with benefits. No feelings allowed. I apparently can do it better than the guys can... they think they like me, but let's be honest. I'm dark. I'm cold. I'm broken. Dating me is a terrible idea.

I'm not even sure why anyone even is still my friend... and sometimes I feel alright, but then... I remember that I have almost no reason to give a damn anymore. I just haven't quite given myself that choice.

I don't want to say goodbye.

I don't want to admit that they are gone.

But my bump is gone.

My heart is cold - unless my older two are here with me, but they are gone the amount that everyone else wanted... no one has really stopped to see what I want... not even those who are paid to care... and I still miss people who I should never have cared an iota about.

"We're going to be okay." No... we aren't. The world is crumbling into ash and everyone is dying. I still pray that you find your happiness, but... I also hope that you never lie to another person. I hope that you find someone with the same asshole-ness that you warned me about. I was never a friend. And that hurt more than almost anything else. Yet I still got you a gift because ... I don't know why and that's why it is still tucked away on a shelf because I have no reason to give a damn. Part of me wants you to hurt just a tiny bit as much as I do right now, but really? I hope that you read this and feel relief. I promised you that I never wanted to trap you. I'm sorry that I was ... too real. I'm sorry that I love so much. I'm sorry that I couldn't lie to you.

I went from 205 pounds 14 months ago to being super close to being under 150 pounds now. The specialist's nutritionist wants me to eat more... but I'm not hungry and unless it is needed for the two that I am not allowed to protect or care about? I could care less if I ever ate again.

There is only darkness to look forward to.

Only things to waste my time on.

I don't even want to wear the things I bought that make me feel slightly warm inside. I want the coldness to spread. I want it to make everything black and dark and dead. I want to go to that place where I won't give a damn about anything. No more happiness. No more rainbows. No more sunshine. Just coldness. I give whatever I have left to those who deserve it.

How are you getting through it? A professional asked.

Because I don't give myself another option.

I let the warmth show with my oldest two.

Otherwise I use the remains of my mask to get through the rest of the time.

The rest of me is dying if it isn't already dead.

Will I rise again like a phoenix? Or will this be the end?

Last Mother's Day I gave myself a gift... to take a risk, to take a chance...

This Mother's Day? My gift to myself will be permission. Permission to stand firm. Permission to show them that I can be a bitch. Permission to just be whatever and whoever I might be in all of the confusion that I have in my depth. And permission to only care about those who actually deserve it. Permission to be done having babies in my future. Permission to act my age... permission to still be the responsible adult... permission to refuse to go above and beyond for anyone else's comfort other than my own children.

And to own my strength. I am too much for any guy. But I can be fun... until those guys think they like me... and then they have to go away. I am too much... even my friends who were with me since I was super little are gone away. I shouldn't worry about ever breaking again... there is no justice... there is nothing better coming alone... just variations of grey disappointment... and I have accepted that I will always be a blob of grey disappointment too.

Rest in peace...

Serena Sue

Thomas Michelangelo

Michelle Jane

Mama loved you all so much. I'm so very sorry that I couldn't protect you. Love lets go. Love doesn't trap. May you sleep softly in the arms of the angels for eternity.

God, please give everyone a heaping portion of whatever they have given my children... whether good or bad, I simply pray for that to be given to them - and include me if You want to. Amen

I'm so very sorry... but hey, at least I know where the breaking point is now, right? It lies about 6 feet down in frozen ground...