F and I are heading to Louisiana this Saturday, to go gamble and basically pretend that Mother’s Day isn’t this weekend. It would be a gross understatement to say that I’m truly dreading this Sunday. I went ahead and bought my mom a card, which I’ve already put in the mail, and I have already told her we’re not heading to her house this weekend, although that’s what I’d usually do.
I just don’t want to be this great gaping wound around my parents, my sister, and my niece and nephew. The way I feel right now, I don’t know how I’d react if someone said something to me that touched these raw and exposed nerves I’m currently sporting. I don’t want to feel anger and resentment aimed toward anyone, especially my loving and caring family, nor do I want to be a sad sack around them this weekend. I really feel that it’ll be better for F and I to just run away for a weekend. Maybe we’ll become millionaires over the weekend…
I can lick my wounds while I’m sitting in an oversized tub with its jets swishing and swirling the water around my aging, PCOS-ridden, infertile, soon-to-be-miscarrying body. I can be as antisocial as I damned well please while I sit mindlessly at a slot machine. I can even drink if that’s what I want to do. I can’t really think of a place that is less familial and cozy than a casino, so that works for me and my present mindset.
Thank God that F figured it out pretty quickly, so that I didn’t even have to ask if we could go somewhere, anywhere, this weekend. He may have had a tiny bit of help in that department from my mom, but I don’t think so. I think he honestly thought of it himself. Bless him!
I can’t help but think that poor F suspects that he married a ghoul of some kind. I know I freaked him out when I decided to go to work on the day after we found out I would miscarry. Sure, my emotions are raw as hell, but it’s actually easier on me up at school than it would be if I sat at home by myself all day, every day, waiting for the inevitable. Besides, I need to save those sick days for when I’m actually miscarrying.
Since finding out there was no hope of the baby’s survival, the most difficult part of the day for me is at night, when I get ready for bed. That’s when I’d don my maternity sleeping bra, take my prenatal vitamins, and used to do my daily Endometrin insert. These days, the boobs are still tender at night, so I still have to use a maternity sleeping bra, which really kind of sucks if you’re a woman who is no longer pregnant. I still take my prenatal vitamin, because I believe that it’s important for the wellbeing of any future vamplita and F progeny. But, like I mentioned in my last post, I’m no longer taking the inserts, since what’s the frickin’ point??
The first time I had to use the bra after finding out our baby’s dead, I simply bawled. It seems very, very unfair that I’m still experiencing that symptom, even though I’m no longer expecting. I can’t even begin to describe the feeling of complete and utter defeat I experienced that first night I had to use the bra after hearing the news. It really chafes to know that my nightly pregnancy ritual was, after all is said and done, all for naught.