Wednesday, October 12, 2011
I am so sick of my family. They all talk shit about me behind my back. Every single fucking one. I really wish I could have a normal family. Instead I got a piece of shit for a mom, and a grandma who tells people I always make her take my kids when that is not even halfway true. I signed into my mom's Facebook today and saw that her and my grandma's sister where talking about sending my grandparents to the Grand Canyon for their anniversary. My aunt said "yeah they would like that but Kirstee would probably try and get them to take Brookelynn. Sharron really needs to learn how to tell her no." My whore egg donor said "yeah, my daughter hates my guts because I finally told her no." One, I would never let my grandparents take my daughter out of state. Two, I only let them have her when they call and ask for her, minus the other day when they took them for a couple hours while I moved into our new house. Three, my mom hasn't told me no to make me hate her. I hate her because I helped her out and she screwed me over, fucked up my credit, then wouldn't pay her portion of the damn bill she ran up, and said it wasn't her responsibility. I hate her because she talks shit about my husband and my family. I hate her because she freaking threatened to harm me while I was pregnant and I ended up being so stressed out that I miscarried. I am so done. I know this makes me sound childish but I do not care. I am hurting and I need to vent.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
My husband, myself, and our 2 kids moved 2 months ago from Alabama to Kansas/Missouri (right on state line). We moved here for the university because it cost about the same as the community college where we used to live. The national guard told him as soon as his IST (transfer) papers hit the KS desk that we'd have a place in the guard here. Well, we got here called IST and still no place. The guy said give him a few days and it'd be solved. Two months later still not solved. My husband has been guest drilling but the DOD hasn't paid him at all. So we've dipped into savings to live. My husband got a job at the local Home Depot and they gave him a fulltime overnight. Due to complete mismanagement on the store manager's part, the store isn't making numbers so they cut all the overnight people's hours and won't give them any daytime hours in any of the open daytime positions. Then to top it all off, Saturday my husband tells them his heck isn't in the back and he needs them to order him a new one. They said okay we'll overnight you one. You'll see it Monday or Tuesday. Fast forward to today, they all at 8am and told him to come in and sign some form and his check would be here in 4-5 days. Umm...thats unacceptable. We are broke. Between medical bills and not getting paid with the guard we are completely broke. I don't want to but it looks like we're going to have to apply for food stamps. I was so happy when we were able to get off them a year ago (due to layoffs and no jobs available we were on them). Damn, why can't we get ahead no matter how hard we try? Just a week ago, my husband went and talked to an active duty army recruiter because the guard bs. And he doesn't want to get put out. But because of this stolen/lost check that could get screwed up now too. He could lose his security clearance if someone uses his personal info that was on that check stub. Grr. What are we supposed to do for these four months while we wait for him to head off to his 7 weeks training and then our big move right after that? This is too much stress. Vent over. (dont fucking bash me. I've bashed myself enough.)
I found out in Early March that I was pregnant with #4. I was due around November 4th. I would have been 13 weeks yesterday. Friday morning my 3 year old wanted to watch the Royal Wedding and I decided to go pee. There was blood. Dark blood. I called my DH and he left work. We took the kids to eat and then headed to the hospital. I was there for hours. Anyway, my hCG was good. My progesteron was low which I already knew. I had a sack but it was empty. No baby. My DH has no idea how to be supportive. This is my first miscarriage but second loss. My first born was stillborn at 38 weeks.
I hate them with good reason. They talk shit all the time. Mainly about me, but sometimes about their son. They have 4 kids. They paid for the older two to go to a university and paid for portions of their weddings. The youngest they pay for her to change her major and university more times then should be allowed in 3 years. They will be paying for her wedding also. When it comes to my DH (their 3rd child) no college was payed for. He asked. Nope. They said no. So he joined the national guard to go to college. Our wedding? Nope. The church paid for our marriage certificate and married us one random day. We didn't ask. We went to see them and show off our then 1 month old daughter. They handed us the $ and told us to go get the certificate and they would marry us that day. We are grateful for the church. When it comes to OUR kids birthdays? Presents? Nope. Not once have they sent birthday or Christmas presents. They do send cards regularly but these people are loaded and spend their time and money on the older kids' kids and their youngest daughter. I have bit my tongue and been nice to these people who obviously hate me. I am so proud of my husband for finally telling them that he is done with them. He called to ask to borrow $100 to fix our car. He was riding a bike 16 miles to and from work. We had hit hard times and my family for the most part has bailed us out. His mom told him they didn't have it. But if his little sister had called she would be handed that and then some. These people take vacations all the time. Just sold their 2nd house in Minnesota, and live in an expensive gated-community in Florida. We simply asked to borrow $100 and pay them back the NEXT week. His mom made a huge deal about it and started talking shit about us needing money. About how come I hadn't applied for food stamps yet or got a job. Well one, I did apply for food stamps and we got denied and were going through the appeal process. Two, we had moved to an area with no family so I had no one to watch my kids. Daycare is expensive in Kansas and there were few jobs. Plus I have no car. Three, We have been selling everything we own to make ends meet and that still wasn't helping. I am so sick of them nay-saying. I am so happy that DH finally told them to fuck off. If he was any of the other kids they would help but because he is himself nothing. They treat him like shit, talk down to him, and if they were anyone else he would of told them to fuck off years ago, but because they are his parents he has dealt with it. Not anymore. He stood up for himself and told them he was tired of being treated like shit and to not call or come see us anymore. I am proud of him. He was upset of course and was crying because he is upset with the whole situation and now this but damn, it will get better now that he stood up for himself.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
I used to be normal. I was the same as everyone else in many ways. I went to school, did homework, and argued with my parents. Sounds like a normal kid, right? A lot of things in my life were not normal. Being the child of several divorced parents, I was a train wreck waiting to happen. At the age of 16, I got pregnant. Pregnancy isn’t something a child should go through, but I did. At 16 I also fought for the right to keep the child and learned what loss really was. I grew up quick, and it was my own fault. Being young and stupid, I tried things that were supposed to be “cool”. I was so off the mark of being cool though. I was headed in a downward spiral that no one could save me from.I tried drinking. I tried drugs. I even tried sex. All of these decisions were bad ones. If I could take them back, I would. I got pregnant the very first time I had sex. That night is forever engraved in my mind. He got me drunk, told me how beautiful I was, and once I was just drunk enough not to resist, took advantage of me. This all took place December 17, 2005. The baby’s father was a man 9 years older than me. He was my best friend's older cousin. Turns out he liked to have sex with little girls. Go figure. He was never convicted. Needless to say, I was on my own from the moment that second line showed up. I felt like I was losing my mind and to an extent, I was. I had no clue how I was to tell my friends, much less my parents. I knew at that moment that I had screwed up my entire future. After a while, I told my family. They were disappointed in me. I was disappointed in me.I had no idea what to do. My father brought up the ideas of abortion and adoption. I said no. I wanted this baby, even if no one else did. He threatened to have the baby taken from me. It turned in to a huge fight. I eventually wore him down; he agreed to let me keep the baby. It wasn’t the end of the fight in my house though. We continued to fight every single day for the next 7 months. It was my baby. I was determined to make the decisions for my baby. Those seven months went by quickly. Finally, I was 2 weeks from my due date.The nursery was ready. Everything was washed and put away. I was ready. I went to my weekly check-up like I did every week. This time was different. The doctor and I were laughing and carrying on. She said something to the effect of “let’s here that little man’s heartbeat” and started to run the portable radar over my stomach. Nothing. There was no sound. She ordered a ultrasound. She said the baby was just turned around, and we couldn’t hear him. I knew though. I knew he was gone. I went out to the lobby and waited. I waited for what seemed like eternity. Eventually, they called me back. They did an ultrasound. It confirmed the tragedy I had known all along; my son was gone.The doctor called me to her office. She tried to be sympathetic. It was a weak attempt. Nothing she could have said could have made me feel better. He was gone. Nothing would bring him back. She laid out my options; there were only 2. I could either be induced or wait until my body naturally went into labor. I chose the first option. It seemed less cruel. At 2pm, I was put into the hospital. By 2:47am, my son was born silently into the world. All in all I think I am doing okay for someone who has lost a child. I was young and stupid. I got pregnant. That alone was hard, but to lose a child at 16 was harder. I still have days when it hurts a lot. I have other days when it feels like a dream. Either way it happened. I lost my son, Scout, on September 12, 2006. That day has forever changed me. I am not the same stupid girl who liked to party and get in trouble. I am a more responsible person. I know that this tragedy will better me, and that maybe one day, I can help someone else who finds themselves in my position. As a gesture of good faith, I started Remembering Angels, a website devoted to Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness and Remembrance. It has helped me grow. I hope it continues to do so.