time, bla bla

Some people come into our lives and quickly go.
Some people move our souls to dance.
Some people make the sky more beautiful to gaze upon.
They stay in our lives for a while,
leave footprints on our hearts,
and we are never, ever the same.



I'm doing okay.

I'm also not going to do a series of updates on Recovering From Pregnancy Loss because the general theme will likely never change: The Sad hits hard from time to time, it never leaves, but sometimes it shuts the fuck up.

And it will eventually become a quieter voice, and one that doesn't as frequently whack me upside of the head and steal my oxygen.

Nights are worse, as are those moments during the day when I realise my hand is gently and protectively placed over something no longer exists.

I get through though. Each time. Because what else is there to do?

Then the times I'm okay are hard because then I feel TERRIBLE then too. How can I be okay? I ask myself. What kind of mother am I that I can be EVER be okay?

So it hurts when I hurt, and it hurts differently when I don't.

Grief.

From where I'm sitting, it's all about being a total assbag to yourself.

I would assume that in the next day or so I'll also be hit by the Sudden Drop In Hormone Levels Crankies, which will possibly be complicated by the also hormonally fueled Periodic Pits Of Despair.

I assume this because I'm a deducer, as in, *observes facts, strokes chin, deduces*

Elementary, mah dear.

I mean, the initial spotting lasted about ten hours and was gone. Then after two days or nothing, it came back last night and brought some some glorious cramps along with it.

Deduction?

The initial spotting was from the "procedure", and the spotting now is now more like a period, in that it's happening because my progesterone levels suddenly dropped.

See?

And it's this kind of SHIT running in my head keeping me sane, for some insane reason.

THIS kind of SHIT does not: Ashermans's syndrome, because why not throw some intense concern about REALLY throwing my fertility out the window into the mix?

I make scar tissue, as my STILL NUMB chin, cheek and other parts of my face would attest to, ergo I'm going to be one of those lucky motherfuckers whose uterus is COMPLETELY ruined by this one single procedure.

"Procedure".

The simple way of describing ten minutes that changed me for ever.

Then there's the lung tumah which might only be a weird chest thing but which FEELS like a tumah stuck RIGHT THERE, and that my head hurts. Especially because that last bit is from being smacked in the back by a train of shopping trolleys, and that pisses me off.