Family, Religion, Holidays, IVF Baby Loss.

Easter – it means relatively nothing when you’ve got a shitty family, you’re pretty much single and you’re exhausted with life. Happy Easter to those that have legit great people to spend it with. Even if you wish you didn’t have to – be grateful you have the option.

My grandparents don’t celebrate holidays due to religion. So, that’s out. My mom is back to her no boundary crazy self which means I have to enforce boundaries twice as much and I can’t cave at all. Give her an inch and she suddenly thinks she’s in charge of all my time now.

So she was busy trying to demand everyone go to an Easter buffet with her. A was going to his girlfriends. I didn’t want to go as early as she was going. Nor did I want to go with her. It gives her the idea things are okay and they aren’t. So she got J & Z to go with her. Being sure to point out I was welcome to come but probably wouldn’t. She then moved to demanding we all arrive to the nursing home for pictures at 10 a.m. – even earlier than food. Not asking if it would work or we wanted to. Nah. Just directing in her stupid ass group message. I politely stated that time didn’t work for me. Then she calls and insists it has to be that time. Well, it doesn’t work for me. That’s the only time she can do it. Why? Because she was going to do laundry and pay bills. Ummmm, that’s something she can literally do anytime.

By this point I’m just crazy annoyed. I point out to her I work 60 hours per week, I have 3 dogs and a bird to care for alone, I also coach a shooting program and am busy with this. I’ve also added in going to nursing home meetings and spending as many hours as I can up there which is turning into about – 10-20 hours per week minimum. Now we’re pushing 80+ hours of commitments and work essentially. She works 30 hours per week, doesn’t go in until 10 a.m. Has every weekend off. No pets. A husband that does all the cooking, yard work and housework. She literally only has to pay bills and do laundry. How does she have no other time? Uhhhhh. Yeah, so I’m free at 4 pm if you’d like to schedule for then other than that I can’t come.

B sends a new group message scheduling it for 3:30 p.m. Who cares I said 4 right. I had a shooting event with the kids I had to be at and a coaches meeting. So, I take a break at 3:30 and make all my fellow coaches wait for me to start the meeting and finish the Easter shoot themselves. I send a text at 2:45 it’s crucial everyone be on time and respectful of our time as it’s not impacting my fellow coaching group. Everyone is there. But her. Doesn’t answer her phone. Shows up 10 minutes late. Really? Then she had said my grandma wanted the picture. My grandma is saying she doesn’t want it. I find out my mom forced it. I’m annoyed as hell. We take pictures and I run back to practice.

Yep, back to that game. The game where she texts me and tells me where to be like I’m 12. Where she commandeers the kids time and I can’t see them if I don’t follow her rules or her times. Which means, I’m back to as much silence as I possibly can have and no contact as best as possible considering the circumstances. Until she goes to therapy. Which she’ll never do.

Basically, holidays are just triggering. Past memories. Past horrible times. You remember them. When I was barely 16 I spent Easter alone, in the hospital, 3 hours from home, with my NICU baby. My mom just left me there. No car. So sore from having a baby 5 days earlier. Alone. I forgot about that. Until today. Now she suddenly cares. Nah, she doesn’t. But now Facebook exists and she needs to post.

Add in the fact my Grandma was so against holidays with her religion. I remember all the years of torture of why we can’t do them. The warning if we did we’d be casted out of the forever paradise after Armageddon by Jehovah. Today, not that exciting for them. Sometimes I love them. When surrounded by the right people. There’s no current right people worth celebrating with. So I just remember the bad.

My coworker just recently told me she has been studying with the Jehovahs Witnesses for over a year. I was dumbfounded. Why? They’re nice. The specific person makes her feel so welcome and okay. They don’t act like her questions are stupid. What if their views are real? I could see how deeply into her head they are already.

I asked some questions but tried not to be too negative. I need to approach this carefully. It breaks my heart though. She is exactly what they prey on – a mom that’s struggled with addiction, poverty, mental illness, kids with behaviors. They go for the weak, the ones desperate for hope, the disabled, the ones desperately seeking somewhere to belong. It’s heartbreaking. You could say religion does that, but this religion does it the most IMO. Maybe the Mormons could compete. But when I see their members. When I remember the members from my childhood. I remember a lot of disabled people, a lot of people struggling, people looking to belong. I remember the “normal” ones too, but I know the others outnumbered them. I hate it. I hate to think of anyone else being brainwashed. Of going through the religious trauma that is real. It’s not okay.

My meds must be working. I still don’t want to be in this world. But I spend far less time fantasizing about it ending. So, I’ll count that as something. Nothings really gotten better so I doubt it’s that. I do plan to ask my therapist and med provider that this week – Can a med really fix you that well? I’ve got therapy tomorrow and a med appointment Tuesday. Guess I’ll stay alive this week too.

Max – still nothing. His version of dating remains a joke. The meds have helped me to care less. To obsess less. I still care. It still hurts. I still cry. Just not as constantly. Not until I’ve accomplished my tasks. Then it’s a free for all. I’m realizing if I pretend he doesn’t exist he misses me more. Go figure. I’ve told him I’m done begging. I just hope he figures this out before it’s too late. As it’s going to be too late someday. Someday I will wake up and he won’t be my first thought. Someday I’m going to find someone that will treat me right and love me and WANT to be with me. Or someday I’ll be dead. So, as I said, he better figure it out sooner than later.  Do I think those days are near? No way. But I can hope.

I should have a baby right now. She’d of ideally been born last Wednesday or this upcoming Wednesday. That fucking hurts. So bad. I try not to think of the what ifs. They break my heart. Deeply. But it’s hard. I loved that baby so much. She was mine. She should be here. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I got another tattoo yesterday… It’s beautiful. Just a simple memorial tattoo for my beautiful baby girl. It’s mainly a line drawing of an angel in her mother’s hand. I had her name and date of birth/death added. Plus, the name Max had wanted to use. As I’m sure they would have been a second middle name. Max says – She doesn’t have a face. No, she doesn’t. It’s a line tattoo. She isn’t suppose to. But I never got to see her face. So it’s also a powerful message. He tells me thanks for adding the name he wanted into it. Tells me it’s nice. Then says – If that’s the scar you want to carry for the rest of your life.

Seriously? I will always carry that “scar”. I’ll always remember my beautiful baby girl that I fought so hard to keep safe inside my body. That “scar” is cut so deep into my heart there’s a giant piece missing that nobody will ever fill. It isn’t a scar. She’s my daughter. Annabelle. He’s an idiot. For real. I’d sell my soul, give up my life, to have her here. To have had just a few moments with her before my own life ended, but hers continued. She was going to be an amazing human. She was mine. She will always be mine. And I will always ache at the “what ifs”. The song plays over and over in my head…. We never should have named you because now you have a face and nobody can ever take your place…. I don’t want anyone to take her place. I just wish this pain wasn’t this level of pain. It hurts. So bad. The world is so right. I’ve known this for nearly 20 years now when Jamie died. But then world reminded me with Annabelle. Child loss is a grief you never want to experience. It’s a pain that you cannot fathom. A pain that doesn’t go away, you just learn to live with it.

At least Jamie and Annabelle are together. I hope that sweet boy is showing her the ropes of heaven. Telling her how great it felt to be snuggled into my arms and rocked to sleep. Telling her how much she’d of loved it too. If only for a little while.

Alright, it’s too early to cry. I have to stop. Go do something useful.