I'm a huge fan of 2 blogs in particular. The woman who write them are so talented and creative and make me laugh my ass off. And I'll admit, they've turned me to on a few other blogs, which is cool.
The first blog I really started following was Gwendomama. I can't even remember how I learned of her blog, but I was immediately hooked with her talk of a lavender sugar and cupcakes. I'm always a sucker for fancy recipes that make me a genius to Gumby, heh. (and we wonder why he went for a 32" waist when we started dating to his current 40").
Then I learned of Elijah. Gwendomama is very open about Elijah and losing him. And I have literally sobbed through her posts. Then one day, she made reference to Tanis, The Redneck Mommy.
And Tanis, loves to speak of her breasts, evil tricks she plays on her children and her life as a redneck. I think she's my long lost sister. heh.
But Tanis also has experienced horrific loss, of Bug, her son. And sweet fuck, did I sob reading her story. I was hysterical one night (which probably is not a natural reaction and probably another reason I'm in therapy, but that's another post for another day).
So one might ask, "What the fuck is your obsession with reading depressing (albeit funny) blogs about people's kids dying?
I can't actually answer that specifically, 'cause I'm not really sure myself.
What I do know is that nine years ago today, I learned Gumby and I were going to be parents.
I remember it clear as day. I have inexplicably quit my job of almost 5 years a few weeks earlier. So no benefits, that's always smart, right?!?
I remember being in the powder room at Gumby's folks, washing my hands and looking in the mirror. I was wearing these awesome mustard colored pants and a similar colored sweater. And I as I washed my hands, I was looking at myself, lamenting that I must have gained some weight, because DAMN, that sweater was tight around my boobs and hadn't been when I bought it a few weeks earlier.
*lightbulb starts to flicker above my head*
What the fuck? Why the hell would my boobs be bigger?
Er. Um.
When WAS my last period.
*lightbulb is now burning bright*
Oh shit.
The next day, I was off and Gumby had to work. As he was in the shower, I ran across the street to the drug store and bought a pregnancy test. He left for work and I anxiously peed on a stick.
I might as well not have, I think I could have just waved it at me, I was so fucking pregnant. The damn thing glowed happily at me.
What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?
Gumby got home that night and I said we needed to talk.
"So....have you noticed my boobs are bigger?"
'cause it was kinda hard to miss, since I'm normally a DD and had to have been pushing DDDD.
"You're pregnant?"
"Yep."
To which there was much discussion over what would happen next. Because I was working for a temp agency (fucking hormones) and we were still living in the world's smallest one bedroom apartment on the Eastside (our rent was a whopping $395 at the time).
Abortion was brought up. And I knew it was not something I wanted to do. But I also saw the fear in Gumby's eyes and wasn't sure I was strong enough to do the kid thing on my own if he decided to run (which, was a very valid fear...sorry babe).
Gumby's folks left the next day for a month long trip to Hawaii and to sail on the brother-in-laws Naval ship back from Hawaii (trust me, it was the trip of a lifetime, but they would have had to have flown me off the damn ship. I could barely handle the 3 day trip we did 2 years later).
A few days later I told my Mom. To which she asked what our plan was and I still really didn't know. A few days later, I knew I couldn't have an abortion. I knew I wanted to be a Mommy too much and I would make it work if Gumby and I didn't work out. It was a Divine plan of some sort in my mind.
So again, Gumby came home and I told he we needed to talk. I would not be having an abortion. I will fight for a person's right to have that ability, but it wasn't the right choice for me, I was keeping the baby.
"So we need to get married then." That was his response.
Because he's romantic and thoughtful that way.
"I'm not marrying you just because I'm pregnant. If you didn't want to marry me BEFORE I was pregnant, why the fuck would I marry you now?"
"Because if I don't marry you, my Dad is going to kill me when they get back. Or they're going to make us get married. And then I'll just say, 'Told ya so.'"
Which is why, 9 years later, we laugh when he says, "Told ya so."
Stubborn mule I am, I refused. The next day I start to find out about getting medical insurance.
Huh. Apparently if you're ALREADY pregnant, you can't buy insurance. And I couldn't afford the almost $400 a month COBRA would cost from my previous job.
And then I started calling about daycare costs. And I certainly could not afford daycare earning $12.50 an hour.
That night I felt a little weird, so I called Labor & Delivery. I knew the resident on call and she said she'd do a quick scan. I went in and she couldn't find much (since we didn't know how far along I was).
So the next day, I called my OB. She sent me for another ultrasound. It was there we saw the baby and heartbeat. And I was over the moon. But I was only a little over 5 weeks along by that ultrasound.
I should have known something was up, but I chalked it up to the fact that every fetus develops differently and ultrasound is not accurate, especially at that point in pregnancy.
A few days later, I knew I had to marry Gumby if we were going to have this child. So I agreed.
My parents and Grandparents had the same anniversary, December 22nd. I thought it would be nice if we got married on the same day, so we set it in motion.
Gumby's folks were still gone and not reachable, so we went to visit the next best thing, Mary, who is my mother-in-law's best friend.
We explained what was going on and our plan to marry on 12/22. The in-laws would not be back until 12/23. Mary knew my in-laws would be heartbroken if they missed it. So after much struggle (selfishly on my part, I admit) I agreed to change the date to 12/29.
On December 17th, Gumby and I were babysitting for some friends. Their little girl was so sweet and I was so happy to be there. And I felt, weird. I couldn't place my finger on it, but I just wasn't feeling right.
After the child went to bed, I went to the bathroom. And I was spotting. Not heavily, but it was still there.
It put me in a funk and I just blurted it to Gumby, rather rudely, when I got out of the bathroom. For whatever reason, the baby woke up, so I held her tightly for a long time, rocking her and singing to her.
The next day, Saturday, I started cramping. I called my OB. She prescribed progesterone and immediate bedrest for one day. If the pregnancy was going to stick, it would get better that day and not be an issue the next and I should resume regular activity the next day.
The progesterone did stop the cramping on Saturday, but it was there again on Sunday. We had tickets to the Admirals in the box, so hell yeah, I wanted to go and I knew there was no stopping what was going to happen.
Of we went to the game. An hour into it I went to the bathroom and was now bleeding heavily.
"Time to go." I said to Gumby when I got out.
He flew into action and had us out of the Bradley Center in short order.
"Do we go to the hospital?" He asked.
"No, just go home."
I went to the bathroom again at home and when I wiped, I felt something. And I knew.
My shoulders slumped and I slowly looked at my "prize" from wiping.
And on the toilet paper was my baby.
Oh, how I cried and sobbed. Gumby flew into the bathroom to check on me and saw the icky glob I was crying over. Poor guy isn't good with blood and it was all he could do not to vomit. He quickly closed the door and asked (from the other side, heh) if he could do anything.
There was not.
We did get married on December 29th. And I have struggled for a very long time to deal with that miscarriage (and the 2 that happened years later when we were actually trying to have a baby).
So maybe that's why I read those blogs. Maybe its because I know how hard my losses were, but these woman have survived the deaths of their children that they already had. Mine were still just the hopes of what were to come.
So today is the anniversary of how we ended up married. Long fucking story to get to that, eh?
But now I have 2 beautiful babies. And they are healthy and full of laughter. And nothing else makes me happier in this world (again, sorry babe...I love you, but you are not nearly as endearing when you pass gas...they make it look goooood. ;)
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