Had a long talk with one of the women I know who have gone through this and now help council others before I went to bed last night and, while I did drug myself to sleep for fear of never getting there on my own, I did feel quite a bit better afterwards.  I am really, really glad that I found this woman.  She is actually a longtime family friend who I never had much to do with on a one to one scale because she was my mom's friend, but the truth is that I have no idea how I would have gotten this far without her.

Anyhow, she reminded me that there are just some people who will never "get it"- and that even if they do they might be to overwhelmed with their own grief that they just look for reasons to put it out of their heads and not deal with it.  There are just those people who take an "ok, it happened, now lets move on and never speak of it again" sort of approach to life.  That is obviously not my approach at all and so of course I am going to find those people hurtful, and it will seem that they don't care.

Now, being a touch further away from the puddle of tears I was last night, I can also look at it a little bit more objectively and say that there are just those people for whom emotional pain does not "count".  So long as I was still recovering from the c-section, I "earned" understanding.  Now that it is "only" emotional pain, I should just get over it and move on.

The truth is, I was really hurt last night when I found out that someone close to me was given the opportunity to come be with me during those first few horrible days, and while all along I was being told there was no way, in truth they just chose not to take the option.  As it is someone who is supposed to care about how I am doing and want to b there for me, I am more than a little upset.  The truth of the matter is, as my conversational companion pointed out, she might not have wanted to come because she was worried that by being here she might make things worse.

On the other hand, even if they only came for a few days I would have appreciated it.

So I guess the long story made even longer is that I need to remember that there are those out there callous enough to really think I can just get over this and move on.  But that's not me.  The fact that they choose to handle their problems that way and that it might work for them, does not mean that it would for me.  If they can't understand where I am coming from, no amount wasting my breath trying to explain it will make one iota of difference.

Why is it that God chose to make it that those who love you the most can hurt you the deepest?

As always, please keep praying for Rachl Marmel bat Mindle Hinda Chaya for a speedy and complet pregnancy that ends in a healthy, happy baby.

Thanks for listening.

I quit. I need help. I am sitting here a puddle of tears on my couch. There are some people you can't avoid for various reasons and they never stop hurting you.  And you just keep going back for more and more and more punishment.  I am a freaking masochist when it comes to this sort of thing.  I don't know why I even bother trying.  

Lord knows I know other people have their problems, but that does not mean that mine are so simple that "things will get better" and that "I am a fully functioning adult with a family of my own" so therefore I do not need a shoulder, or attention in any way shape or form.  

I know I don't matter much in the grand scheme of things, but this is going to be the end of my undoing.

I have decided that in some cases the side effects of the medication are not worth the good they do.  One drug in particular I am trying to cut cold turkey- the withdrawal effects may be awful for a few days, but today being day 1 of my experiment I have a supreme headache, but for the first time since I started taking it I can breathe without my mouth drying out, blink without pain, and was able to get out of bed without needing help because my knee joints were so sore.

I am not sure yet if I can expect the withdrawal effects to get worse or better, or at what point they will peak, but day 1 has me achy and shaky, but feeling better overall.  The only problem is that it was the one drug that actually seemed to be helping.

Had a huge fight with Jason over it, but I have decided that until someone is living in my shoes they have no right to judge my decisions when it comes to pain management.  I am not doing anything dangerous, merely possibly stupid, and I can always go back onto it if the withdrawal effects get to bad.

In other news I am not making any serious plans for the next few days.

This all started because my family doctor was unhappy with the drug and made me feel terrible for still needing drugs at all.  I asked her to help me deal with one of the side effects and she responded I should not be on it anymore anyway.  While technically I think that is between me and my shrink, it did get me thinking.  This is the result.

She was willing to send me for bloodwork to show me that what I thought was going on was probably all in my head.  She tacked on what I tend to think of as the "fat lady" panel.  Colesteral, tryglicerides etc.  Which I had done less than 6 months ago and were all fine.  I blacked them out.  I did not have them done.

I thought I had finally found a family doctor who accepted who I was despite the numbers on the scale.  I guess I was wrong.  I went to her for something totally not related, and she just decided, without discussion to tack on the flp even though it has been less than a year since I had it done and everything was fine.  Oh, and no, I am not still loosing weight, but I was stable, which I have been told on the drug in question is a minor miracle- so hopefully taking myself off of it will allow me to keep loosing.

In any case, between fighting with her, and fighting with Jason and skipping the first dose of the medication, lets just say yesterday was not my best day in a while.

Had a bit of a moron moment and thought today was Father's Day.  Sent out my father's day emails.  Gave Jason his gift (well, got it out, will wait for Channah to get home before he can open it, but now that he has seen it I am not going to take it back into hiding.  Good Lord what is happening to my brain.  It is like being pregnant but without the reward at the end.

I hate that.  Seems so often that line floats through my head.

In any case, I am doing a little better than last week.  It is a new box of the drug and I think something must be wrong with it as I am reacting really badly to it.  Going to see my family doctor today and have a call in to my shrink.

Just took the resperidone.  Please God let it start working quickly.

Oh God.  Ran out of resperidone.  NOT GOOD.  Normally I take it at 7 am and it is now 12:45.  Eating everything in sight.  I am jittery and have 0 self control.  I have now noticed that I am shaking and that I am sad and that my brain is doing that running around inside my skull thing again.  Also, I am ready to scream bloody murder at anyone making noise.  I am biting my tongue so hard to keep from shrieking at Channah who is doing nothing more than playing nicely with her playmobile that I think I may bite it off.  Oh well, at least that way I will stop eating everything else.

Trying gum now.  Seriously, I must have gained 200 kg this morning.  This is NOT good considering the medication itself leads to weight gain and I had been doing so well.  Everyone knows a fat woman is worthless unless she is on a diet (or so I have been told by so many people so much of the time) that I seriously do not want to put any of what I have lost so far back on.  Maybe if I keep losing people will treat me like a normal human being instead of like some sort of hideous slob monster who obviously has no self control (which, this morning I don't so they are at least partially right.

Do you ever wonder if your family would love you more if you looked different.  I used to but I don't anymore.  Now I have no need to wonder because I know it is true.  Do you know that one person, one stupid, idiotic person made their first question to me after burring my daughter "so where is your weight holding now without the baby?

Ok so I just hung up the phone but that stupid moronic question is going to stay with me every time I see that person just like the person who told with with my first pregnancy that I was nothing but a fat slob and he hoped I died during childbirth.  Never have really looked at him the same way.

Oh lord I am rambling.  Have I mentioned any names?  No I don't think I have so I should be okay to post this.  The two comments above were not from the same person so do not assume you KNOW who must have made them.  Cause I can assure you that you are at least partially wrong.  Seriously, it is not necessarily who you would suspect.

Yeah.  I am fat so I deserve whatever I get right.  Losing Gabby was just a punishment in their minds I am sure for the way I look.  The medication is just an excuse for anything I do gain back because in truth I have no self control and never excersize (Even though I do a hell of a lot of walking and manual labour for a living!).

Great.  Ever notice how other people can make you hate yourself when they are not even there.  Ideas can worm their way into your head and become seeds.  The seeds germinate and take root and before you know it that tree of self hate has wrapped itself around your brain and you hate yourself even more than the other person hates you.

Funny isn't it how things said to you can hide in your head for years and only come back at the worst possible time.  I remember one relative telling me no one would ever date or marry a fat girl.  That I would always just be the fat good friend.  Well, I proved them wrong didn't I?  I got married to a nice guy who loves me for who I am and I do have friends both fat and thin and I still have that comment spin round in my head every time I meet someone new.   Are they going ot hate me just because I am so freakishly abnormal.

Do you have any idea how excited I got now that I can but clothing in real stores?  Ok, only some stores and some clothing, but I have bought so much in the last few weeks I think I am going to bankrupt us because it is just so darn exciting for me to find clothing that fits for a reasonable price at a normal store!!!

See what I mean by no self control?  I can't stop my brain from thinking of all these terrible moments.  Of all those people "just trying to help".  Now when I am sad and in withdawel those moments come back to me with all the weight they had the first time.  AND I CAN'T MAKE THEM STOP!!!

Good lord.  The inside of my head is one big fat Rachel Hate-Fest right now AND I AM ENCOURAGING IT.  What in the world is wrong with me.  I am a lazy brat.  Sat around all morning while Jason was at softball watching doctor who, sleeping and playing monkey bloons 4.  Yes I know bloons is spelled wrong but that is how the game spells it.

Ok, I think I need to sign off before I start pointing fingers and naming names.  God I hope Jason gets home soon with the refil on the medication.  Maybe then I can bury the self hate for a while until something brings it up and it becomes like the whomping willow at Hogwarts and kills my broomstick.  Who am I kidding.  It is never really burried all that deep that I can't find it with anything more than a broom.

Which I do not use anyway since I am such a sob and that is the reason that people will not come visit (ok, one person in particular, but it was enough to have it told to me that apparently I am such a terrible home keeper I am poisoning my guests with mould and dust.  I LIVE NEAR A FREAKING QUARRY!!!!  How in the word am I supposed to avoid dust.  And so sue me I would rather live my life than steralize it!  Come shabbat most weeks the place is in good order and everything is fine, no clutter during the week does not bother me.  Yes the toilets get cleaned regularly, so do the floors and the fridge and the stove.  Just maybe not to THEIR standards.

What is wrong with me?  I am like pouring out every vent I have ever had.  God hep me no one is ever going to speak to me again.  First I told them I was fat (it was a secret you know) now I am saying I am a bad housekeeper.  Wow, it is a wonder that I have any friends at all.

Now don't your worry those who actually do like me.  I am not planning to hurt myself (even though Jason just called from the pharmacy and they do not have the drug in stock that I need.  He is trying other pharmacies).  1) That would put certain people out of their misery of having to know me and 2) It would give all the pall bearers hernias.

AAnd people wonder why I am so bloody negative all the time.

Started real monitoring today for a new cycle.  Never thought when I pregnant with Gabbi that this is where it would lead me.  We had decided that 1 was enough.  But now that I have had the taste of two I am selfish enough to want more.

On the other hand, how can I want more when lately I am so short tempered with the one that I have?

I am so confused about my parenting it is an unbelievable mess.

On top of that my blood sugars are going insane, we are not sure if it is a result of my phsych medications or not, so I made an appointment with an endocrinologist.  I was supposed to wait 6 months before going to see the fertility expert but I made the appointment for early so we could at least talk before I go away.

On the whole, people seem to be right.  To some extent time does heal.  Then it all come landing back on me with one fell swoop and I am just as hysterical as I was that first day in the hospital.  I feel like why am I even bothering to try if God is just going to be able to take it away just as quickly.

I go for reasonably long stretches functioning normally- but then I fall apart.  It is like a row of dominoes or a house of cards- standing tenuously ready to trigger an epic collapse at any moment.  And I do mean at any moment.  Seeing a pregnant woman can bring it on, as can being in a store with baby clothes.

Do you realize that if everything were to go smoothly from this point out, and Iy"H I have a full term pregnancy, I would have been pregnant for 17 of the previous 21 months?

There is just so much random crud going through my head all of the time that I don't know where to stick it a. I guess that is what this blog is for huh?  All of you get to read the nuttiness that I normally keep inside my skull.

My gosh I need a Chaya Tova hug.  Or a friend.  Or just someone who isn't judging me based on any criteria other than "Hey look, you are managing to hold yourself together right this minute!  That's awesome!  No one expects anything else of you right now."  Except they do.  It has been more than 3 months.  My "mourning period" *should* be coming to an end and I should be rejoining the real world.  But how can I when the real world keeps throwing what I am back in my face?  Nothing is going smoothly.  It is like this nightmare just keeps going and going and going and there is no way that I can pinch myself to wake up.

Ever since February 28th it is like my brain has a mind of it's own (no joke intended) and I have very limited power over what it is going to think about.  It decides how I am going to feel and when.  It decides who will be allowed in to bring comfort and who won't.  Who I will trust and who I will shut out.  It has decided we are cycling as so we are- terrified as I am that it will be an epic disaster either way.

I was so close last time before God took it away.  Why should I think he would not do it again?

Someone please help me.  I am so miserable tonight and I really don't know why.  I had a good day.  I am catching up on work.  Jason and I are mostly getting along well.  Channah is thriving.  We have a great trip booked for this summer for a wonderful occasion.  I have a roof over my head.  Food on our plates.  Clothes on our backs- and yet I am still miserable.  Why?  Give me one good reason why I should be sitting here with silent tears running down my face.

Oh right.  God took my Gabbi from me without even letting me hold her.  Would it have been more compassionate to give me a few minutes with her?  I really don't know.  But either way he took her and every so often that springs to the forefront of my head and other people might have moved well past it but I haven't. I suspect I never will.  I don't think I even want to because then it is like she never was.

Dear God, what if I do manage to get pregnant and he takes another one?  The thought is enough to shatter me never mind going through 40 weeks of torture knowing it could all go bely up at any moment.

I will never, ever forgive myself for that night.  I will never ever forgive Jason either.  And I am terrified it could happen again.