The last few weeks have been so utterly painful. I have been depressed more than words can say. Alcohol is a wonderful distraction.
Last year, during thanksgiving I was happily pregnant, had seen all of the babies heartbeats, and my joy was beyond euphoria. This year is another story.
If everything had gone as it should have, I would have an infant by my side, and I would be posting to a very different type of blog. But this is my life, one of disappointment, misery, depression, and desperation.
Today I remember that my dreams are over, and my nightmare will never end.
In just a few weeks, it will be the one year anniversary of when I went to the high-risk AMA doctor to see my beautiful babies. I asked if it would be okay if I recorded on my cell phone the babies heart beats. Of course, was the answer with a smile.
That day, as I did every single day, I sang to my babies on the way to the appt. Each day I sang and talked to my babies in the morning on the way to work, and at the end of the day, on the way home. You see, I loved them more than any words could say, they were a part of me, part of my soul and my dreams.
I was deeply attached to the little beans, and I would have died for them if need be.
I had three children in my body, and I would do whatever it would take to protect them for the rest of their lives. Little did I know how short their lives would be!
Finally, they they did an ultrasound on my stomach. The girl was confused as to why she wasn't getting the information she needed. She said go and pee, we will do a vaginal ultrasound instead. I went to pee, still in my glory, awaiting the joy of seeing my babies on that giant screen TV, still amazingly happy and excited.
I came back and she did the vaginal ultrasound, and that's when I knew that my life would never ever be the same again. I saw my three babies. Each floating dead in their individual sacks. There was no noise, no heartbeats, no life. My dream was over, my babies were DEAD.
I was all alone, since a good friend of mine that was supposed to be by my side backed out of the appointment at the last minute due to work.
I was all alone, my babies were dead, and I had to drive myself home in hysterics.
I made it home that day, to my husband's surprise, and my own. We rushed down to the immunological specialist. He wanted to be sure that there was no mistake, and there wasn't, again, dead babies!!!!!!!!
Just a few days after I was weaned off of the medication to suppress my immune system, three strong healthy heartbeats had ceased. I didn't know that a few days earlier when I had a fever and I broke out in a rash on my arm, that all hell had broken loose. I did not know that not one baby would survive the fury of my immune system that treated my babies like cancer, and eliminated them, PERMANENTLY!!!!!
These days are filled with Vicoden, Vodka, tears, and anger. These days are filled will emptiness, loneliness, and the longing for my babies.
This past year I have realized who my TRUE friends are, and how most of my family are cowards, and weak, and pathetic.
This thanksgiving, I am thankful for the very few that have kept me alive, that have given me support and comfort, and made me strong enough to get through each day, as difficult as each day has been.
The truth is that if it wasn't for my mother, and not wanting to hurt her, I would have killed myself last December, because to be honest, life is pretty much a waste.
So here I am, almost a year later. Still alive, still suffering, still wondering why any fool would believe in God?
I hate the holidays, all they are is a reminder of what I have lost, and what I will never have.
To the friends who have stood by me, I will forever treasure you.
To the friends and family who have turned their backs on me, I will be sure to repay the favor.
I used to be the one to turn to for any crisis, for any support, for anything at all.
Those people in my life who have deserted me, I no longer have your back.
This is a bitter, angry post today.
How could anyone except anything better?