Tiger Lilly, Lilly Pad, Lilly Pilly, Lilly of the Valley

I have just had an amazing weekend. I went up to Gunbower (weapon bedroom?) for the weekend. I stayed with a friend, swam in a river and avoided showers. I drank vodka, swayed in a vodka and had a picnic with myself. Everyone kept trying to make a big deal out of this being during exam week. It had to be! I needed the peace and lack of calamity. I slept on a couch and had bacon for breakfast. I preferred it. I'm trying to bring myself to terms with the fact that I would much rather be my happy than successful. I partially need to learn this in case I don't get into my choice of uni but also because it is just who I am. I don't need money, I need platypuses and water birds. I don't need a huge house, I need my life within walking distance. I can't do country living, it hurts to be so far from the people I love. I just need escapades. Like weekends with Kim or running to Cowes late at night. That's one thing I couldn't take with Kim, especially with my dad around to aggravate the situation further. She looks at me like she has her best friend back and then can't forgive me for not being her. I can't do everything for everyone. I need some things for myself. I am weird. I know it. That does not mean that every single little fun thing I do is part of my breeding. Oh, Amy's a bit of a loony tune? That's so Carolynne? You want to know a little bit of truth? She stopped raising me at eleven. You can take my spontaneity and outbursts and cute little games and blame that all on my father. The silence. The anger, depression, scars, suicides, attention span. They come from being and not being raised by him. People need to stop giving me someone elses life and then claiming I break their hearts by only reaching halfway to their expectations. I don't want to be her. I'm happy to evoke memories and listen to stories but don't hate me for being unable to raise the dead to more than a face. That is not my problem.

So much Rice. So much Jarvis. Not so much Spektor.

You know what? I am so fucking sick of people telling me what's healthy and normal an ok. I know what feels right, I know what feels wrong and anything inbetween I will work on at my own fucking pace. I deserve to be happy, to feel gorgeous or beautiful or sexy, to sleep in my own bed or on a couch (or not sleep at all), to drive at any time I like and to panic if I FEEL LIKE PANICKING! I'm tired and angry at other people all the time because they won't let me live with my choices. I can live with them and be happy! You just won't let me. So fuck what you think, fuck what they think, fuck what I think and go to hell. I'll watch Hook at one in the morning if I damn well want to and it's none of your business trying to stop me. FUCK OFF AND STOP CARING, IT'S NOT HELPING. I can clearly do things just fine on my own if I have to and damn it all to fucking hell, I WANT TO.

OI, LURKERS

Fourteen page views in an hour and not one of you little shits leaves a comment? Disagree with me! Vent! Share tales of lemons and wisdom! Just let me know who you are. Tee

Let's not keep a dead dog.

It started out as a series of questions, each one further depreciating the self but to be honest, it was never really about the faults she carried. It was mean of her but she began to laugh.

I found God...

I'm mad. I thought that finally, I had my friend back and that he would be there. We stayed up past 3am just talking to be each other, spending time enjoying the company of another person and I gave him so much time. I listened while he vented and tried to be helpful until I became too worn down. And do you know what he promised me? That he would be there when it as my turn. I laughed it off and told him it doesn't do to dwell. Some of the things I feel are not pretty, are not for dragging out into the daylight. And then I changed my mind. It's worth feeling the pain to know that someone knows and can care about how hurt you are. So I slowly let on that maybe I was ready to talk. And he wasn't there. So it began to get worse. Even when I told him straight up that I needed him and I needed his support, he wasn't there. I was so happy to have my friend back because it is unbelievable just how much I had missed him without realising. Now it has turned sour. Where were you when I needed you? Why didn't you listen when I told you I needed the help? We went in circles, telling the same tales about your aches and I went deeper and deeper into the dark place because if no one listened then I was supposed to have you. Only I didn't have you so where was I supposed to go from there? Why did you lie to me?

Real friends judge you more on that cigarette

I was pretty sure I was getting booty called at 11.45 last night but no. My ex-boyfriend had the intent of sleeping with me. You know, sleep. His chest against my back and both arms around me. This is not how it works. He lost. He treated me like a game and acted like a player and I won. And I can keep winning if I want because I still have yet to tell him that I actually dated the guy teaching me piano who he hated for being intellectual. And that I love him best. Sully, I love you best. I love Sam longest and I love Trent hardest. When I tell people that to cope with stress, two techniques included are half a cigarette and casual sex with the person whom I conceived my child by I judge just as I am judged. I prefer the friends who judge me on the cigarette. The people who call me unhealthy for my casual relationship are the emotional blackmailers and they have no place if they judge. I don't care. I can hardly feel any more so why should I care? I do not agree that this is unhealthy and I don't think this makes me a slut. I understand that I called it quits but that never meant I stopped loving my partner. He forfeited the right to sunshine and now he gets what he is given, not what he asks for. Last night I participated in a presentation for SANDS as a keynote speaker. I asked that more effort should be made to train persons my age to support persons my age because I felt judged by my loss because of my age. My son was still my son, is still my son. I am just as much a mother as someone in their twenties, thirties, forties but I was not treated this way. People judged me for my pregnancy and then tried to justify my loss. I prefer comfort. So I'll not take it any more. Since leaving the man I have loved for two years, we have had three one night stands and even as I share this with the internet, it is none of your business. It is not your place.

That time of year

I'm struggling with exam stress. I have tried so many things, so many, many things to overcome it and still I haven't. I don't think it's just exam stress though. My life is gaining on me and it is brutal. I've tried meditation and massage and yoga and even half a cigarette but that left a gross taste in my mouth so I think that's on the 'no' list too now. So far, the only thing that has helped even temporarily is sex with the father of the child I lost and we are not together any more. This doesn't feel like 'me'. That's not the kind of person I thought I was and yet, I need to lie down with someone who is willing to kiss my forehead and play with my hair. This is likely to be something I abuse until my exams are over but not after. So what does that even make me? I'm sticking to someone I know is clean and won't pass anything on to me, someone who loves me and I know. He has seen me naked. He has seen my useless stretch marks. He is a warm body willing to hold onto me. I do feel remorse and I am uncomfortable and if there is another time, chances are I will become the kind of person who leaves once he is asleep but it is working at present for me. I don't FEEL any more. I am not afraid of car accidents. I don't worry that I will never have children or I will be unloved. When I think I feel, I am really just remembering the things I am supposed to be occupied with and then listing them. I dream in Greek and consider driving off a hill. I picked one with a view and although I'm inclined to worry due to its proximity to my house, I don't. I just don't feel.

Are you Reddy?

Some people and their timing just make my head want to explode. I've had a head ache the last for days which probably doesn't help but for the most part, I'm just going to blame people. Like Trent. I left him over two weeks ago and I'm starting to feel the sadness instead of the freedom and after not talking to me the entire time, even after I mentioned shark week being late he still has the nerve to fuck with my feels. Half an hour into my shift at work last night, he texts saying he misses me. Yeah, well he should have though of that when he stopped treating me like a fucking princess. I am a modern goddess and the second he stopped worshipping me for everything I have to offer, he put himself in the position to lose me. It took longer than it should have. I have to be a big girl no and tell him to fuck off and never speak to me only I know I would hate to say that. I want him in my life, so badly but he doesn't deserve it. If he so much as wants to stay friends, he is going to have to work himself halfway dead to earn it. I deserve adoration and unconditional love. I am entitled to such more than he has offered. I am and I will keep telling myself that because I'm not believing it. I HAVE MANY ADMIRABLE QUALITIES SUCH AS MY FREE SPIRIT, IMPRESSIVE INTELLECT AND ENJOYMENT OF LITERATURE. I also have boobs. Guys love boobs. Moving on. I've just started to allow myself to flirt and realise other guys actually exist and he comes in with three little words and a sad sideways smiley and just flips shit upside down. There is a sweet guy at work, the kind who says nice things to his mum. And there's a fun guy who tells the worst jokes because he knows how bad they are. And there's the guy with the awesome tattoo who picks on me and calls me out on my dimples. The one who makes an effort to see me before he leaves when we have shifts together. The one who listened to a whole bunch of Regina Spektor songs so he'd be able to understand the secret girl code I've got going with Oriana. And also because I told him about Chemo Limo and he wanted to know why I liked it. I'm attractive and people notice me. I hadn't really noticed them noticing but it happens and I never saw because I felt like I wasn't worth it. WELL I AM. And now that I'm starting to feel my insecurity and anxiety again, when I am vulnerable and nearing weaknesses, Trent tells me I'm missed. What is he hoping for? I'm not allowing a miracle. He's not being instantly forgiven. Relationships are meant to make you happy, at least most of the time if not all. They are not meant to make you sad and insecure and doubtful of the other person. I don't trust him not to hurt me. I don't trust him when it comes to a lot of things actually. He is going to have to work on so many levels just to get me to talk with him. And the first thing I'm going to ask for? The things I left at his place.

*Jaw's Theme*

I'm going through some feels today and I've got to admit, they're pretty unpleasant. Just to be extra, super sure there is no growing fetus and since I'm due for an ultrasound anyway (October and April I have them) I went in for one this morning. I've done a couple home tests, both negatives so I wasn't expecting anything unusual but even when you are deliberately not getting your hopes up, you get your hopes up a little. One thing that makes me mad at people is they keep putting a timeline on my grief. I don't have to stop feeling sad if I don't feel ready to. The part that breaks me most though is people don't see me as a mother because I never held what they would consider a valid baby. My baby died at 7 gestational weeks. He was about the size of my fingernail with no easily discernible features. For the rest of the world, he was not recognisable and therefore not recognised. Well FUCK YOU. He matters to me. I am a mother, I had a child in the womb. No, it wasn't for long but I wanted things for him in the short time I knew he was there. He could have been gay or a doctor or a serial killer or an artist living in Korea and I would never have loved him any less. So I took to madly dancing and enjoying myself in my pj pants sans top listening to Fidelity. And it just made me sad when I stopped. Happiness is temporary and it's hurting me. I want some comfort or some company but I know it will only work until it is over. And I'm finally starting to hurt over my break-up and shark week arrived and my nipples ache and I don't want to get out of bed.

No thank you, no thank you, no thank you, no thank you

It's a scary thought, especially because I've been drinking with friends recently. I have had two failed pregnancies and now shark week is late by five days :'( I'm not going to take a test just yet. I want to do everything possible to avoid considering it even remotely possible and getting my hopes up. I am scared as all hell. I do not do this well, for the first year after my miscarriage ever single late period even if only for a day was filled with fear, hope and disappointment. After the second, only a week 'late' I switched that off and just told myself that eventually, it would come. And for a while, it worked. I would simply tell Trent I was late by a day or two and having him know was enough. I didn't want to feel any of it. I could never tell you if I wanted a positive or negative right now. If I say I want positive, that will make me a single mum. If I say I want negative I will possibly be lying because this could be one of few shots at parenthood. I'm still unsure of how my system is functioning. Weight gain. Excessive tiredness. Aching nipples. Uterine pains. All early symptoms of pregnancy and all explainable. I've been eating to please myself lately. I have very low iron levels. The last two can be period related. I am scared, so so scared and I've got Chemo Limo stuck in my head. 'And my Barbara...She looks just like my mum.' I'm trying to consider my options without considering my options. Every dad should have the option to be in his baby's life, whether it's every other weekend or as much as possible. I would want my ex to be in his child's life but not in mine. That's difficult. I know he would ask for us to try for the baby's sake, if there even is one but I don't want to. I always assumed I would but no. I wouldn't put myself through that. And this is just amazing timing because I've only just stopped being oblivious to a guy at work flirting with me and damn it all, he is attractive! And sweet! He picks on my dimples and messes with me when we work together. How did I not notice this ages ago? I mean, he actually goes out of his way to make sure I know he's around when I'm at work and it went completely over my head. I'm trying very hard not to be afraid. Very hard. I'm not ready for my body to emotionally fuck with my head but it does. It's not very fair.

Fidelity

It’s been one of those lazy days, where it’s too lazy to actually do anything. So lazy that I don’t even want to play solitaire instead of working. It’s naptime lazy, mostly because of the warmth and sporadic sunshine but also because I went to bed so late. Shark week is approaching and I’m experiencing some severe tenderness in more than one area. I hate the pain but I’m not going to take birth control pills just to alleviate cramps. It’s not like it’s unsafe for me to take them, I just get paranoid sometimes that just about everything I do puts me at risk. I just don’t want the option of being a mother taken away from me. I’m not sure if I’ll ever actually decide for it to happen because it’s a terrifying thought depending on how my day is going but I at least want to be able to make the decision for myself. I’ve been listening to a lot of Regina Spektor lately because an old friend reminded me of how amazing she is. There’s one song I tend to skip before I listen through and to be honest, I can’t figure out why. It has my words in it. Hearing all of these voices and words and music and it’s breaking your heart? That is my feels! I found it, with words and a piano in the background. Anyway, this song is my feels because there is a lot of confusion in my head lately. See, I always felt pro-life because a little life is not a little loss and how could anyone do that to precious life? Until someone I actually hated cried and told me they had an abortion and I held their hand and told them about losing Aaron. She said thank you. I was appreciated because I forgave her, not just for hurting me but for hurting her baby. I have felt like my blood has been forced out drop by drop because of the internal agony of miscarriage and here is a young woman who volunteered herself to the pain and I want to bear all of it for her because I know the pain, the guilt and the loss. So I am confused about where my head is supposed to be but I know there are wildflowers and paintings and goose eggs and piano notes in the scone-scented air. It hurts so much and so unexplainedly (?) that I am so mad I could punch a goat. But apologise because the goat did nothing.

For the Man

People who don't have to or choose not to work downright PISS ME OFF. There's a Lebanese kid in my History class who, in the first week of yr 12 together old me he was not going to get a part time job until he graduated university because his parents would pay for his studies and he didn't want to jeopardise his grades. Well guess the fuck what? His grades are slipping without a job anyway because he doesn't have to work for anything. He just expects to get it. I work 20 or more hours a week, I'm a full-time high school student and I'm independent so I wash my own damn laundry. It makes me so mad that, yes I chose to accept 20+ hours of work a week but I make that choice based on the bills I have to pay. True, I was given a car for my 18th but not the money for rego or for petrol or maintenance. So that I can take pretty much every other day off during exams and still have money for rent, groceries, petrol and car repairs, I worked nearly 70 hours in 16 days. I did not get a two week break, I got the chance to own every other "holiday" I've had and completely ruin my body. So quit your sooking about a part-time job, money is money. Money gives people choices and I get angry because although I've got the money, I have to work for it and working in itself limits my choices. I can't drink on weekends, I gotta stay up until 6.30am when my shift finishes and then I get a couple hours sleep before I have to do homework then start the next 10pm-6.30. People who say they will eventually get around to working (yeah, I'm looking right at you) because they don't really need the money also can go suck a lemon. Yes you do, you need the money and the responsibility and the life experience of taking care of your own life. Who is going to pay for the plane ticket to France? Why do I think it won't be you? Some times the 'best' argument presented is that work is hard and they're just not sociable enough people to do well. They'd just get fired, right? Well guess what dickhead, I am a sociophobe. I am afraid of PEOPLE. Today I nearly hit one of the guys who works with me in the face because he grabbed something near my leg and I like him and I panicked and yet I still choose to have my job at Maccas. You know why? Because it's not beneath me or anyone else to be earning nearly 17.50 an hour. Money is money and even when you're scared, the bills have got to be paid and you have got to find a way to pay for uni instead of living off Daddy's credit card. So blow your paycheck on tequila and bite down on those lemons.

Happily ever afters are never so happy

I'm in love and I'm happy. Never make the mistake of thinking I am not happy.
It's just that occasionally, I'm wistful. I would love for my first to be my last, to have a high school sweetheart and be happy for all eternity but I get sad at that thought too. It's like that HIMYM episode where you hear two ways of saying "Aw, Marshall and Lily have only slept with each ither." It's cute but it's also a little sad. Is that it? Do I have to give up being happy and in love to experience what someone else's skin feels like?
I believe in monogamy. It's ok to love more than one person and even at the same time but you don't express that to more than one person at a time. It's not fair on the heart any other way.
So I daydream every once in a while about the guys at school. And sometimes the girls. And of course, the odd teacher. I don't know why but my brain just jumped straight to Mrs. Kumar. I have NEVER thought about her like that o.O
But yes, sometimes I look at the people I know and wonder what they would feel like, how we would work, if they would make me happy. Sometimes I wonder if I'm missing out by falling so hard for someone so young. I would give up anything for my partner but would it be worth it?

Brought to you by my Android from the bathtub, where most of my epiphanies occur.

Home again, home again.

It's been a LONG time since I stopped in at Lemons. High school has been keeping me busy. It's nothing like I expected. Essentially, yes. There are teachers and students and classrooms and bathrooms that smell like menthol cigarettes but it's still not what my brain was preparing me for.
The tiredness is worst. I can get up at 7.30 after going to bed past midnight no problems but that isn't how I'm tired. I've found that I'm tired as I work. Take today for instance. I was concentrating on my History SAC, focusing so hard on the right answer that I had moments where I felt the need to faint. I was honestly surprised when I reached the end of the SAC and was still conscious. I also feel more of the 'over it' kind of tired rather than the 'sleepy' kind. The thought of putting up with the bitchiness and the perfectionism for even one more day puts me in a rut the size of the Great Wall of China.
I can't stand the girls. They're so set in their ways. We have to sit in the same places, eat in the same places, cook at the same work bench in Food Tech, take study periods in the same layout. We have to treat our teachers a certain way (usually badly) and because I have my own rules, my own priorities I become the bitch. I am The Scapegoat.
I'm too old to 'get' them, too young to be any other adult. I'm the one who ends up losing every battle because I am not the same. They think I don't care what they say or believe about me but I do. I hate being 'special' or 'different' or a 'freak'. I want to be Amy, head down and unnoticed. Better yet, Terreur with her head down and UNKNOWN.
"One more week" I tell myself. "One more week then two off. You won't have to see any one. You won't have to talk to anyone. You can hide and cry to your heart's content. One more week."
Sooner, if I really want to lose.

Jude vs. Keith

I'm glad I decided to unblock The Gymnast on facebook and talk to him again. You see, absence makes the heart grow fonder and I've realised I don't feel all those things I think I feel. Not even a little bit. The Gymnast is one of my best friends and he has been good to me but I've gotten over him.
Ever read the poem 'The Best Way to Get Over Somebody is To Get Under Someone Else'? It's on deviantart and it has got this situation covered in my eyes. I don't care about The Gymnast the way I care about my boyfriend. I don't love him like I used to, like I love my boyfriend now.
It's taken me too long to realise I am happy with what I have and I don't need the memory I have perfected. My boyfriend hurts me; he makes me cry and insecure. He does this because he is insecure, because he is afraid of someone else loving me and taking me away.
As often as he hurts me, he takes it all away. He wraps me up in cute messages and hides his feelings in them so I'll read something and suddenly see just how much he loves me. He tries to be manly but he's really just a mushy lovesick young adult at heart.
Did I mention he also looks so gorgeous with his daughter? He loves her, so much and that's worth sticking around for. The way things are going, I doubt he's ever going to be interested in having any more kids but at least I can spoil Marissa. I love him so much that even missing out on having kids wouldn't make me leave. That doesn't mean I don't still want them though, just that I'd be willing to give that part of me up for him.

Eww, girl germs

Forgive me but I use this place like a diary. I found a lump on my cervix today. We're going to skip all the weird questions such as 'What the hell were you doing with your cervix?' and move on with it. This post is not for the squeamish.
I'm nearing ovulation and I wanted to confirm that by checking my cervix position and the like. Soft, high, medium open. And then a tiny hard bump just next to the opening on the left side. My left, not yours.
I'm freaking out. Last time I had a girly parts check up, I was sprung with inactive cervical cancer (pre-cancerous cells) on my 6 monthly ultrasound.The ultrasound was done in October, treatment began in November, miscarriage in December. I was busy and sad. That ultrasound was followed by six months of intensive blood work(weekly), hormone therapy(daily tablet), monthly ultrasounds(monthly. durr) and a few doses of cryosurgery(they stick liquid nitrogen or carbon dioxide on the cervix). Then another six months of fortnightly blood work, my daily hormone breakfast and an ultrasound every second month. And then, thank Bejeesus came the all clear.
Since this was inactive cancer, I don't have a 'remission period'. No five years of high alert or similar. Just a ton of nerves requiring constant vigilance.
Which sometimes comes in the form of a finger up your woohoo.

Buttercup.

Lately I've found that I build things up in my head. Donating blood wasn't as scary or painful as my brain was telling me it would be neither was going back to school. Yes it was hard and I wanted to fuck some people right up but it wasn't half as terrifying as I told myself it would be. It was sad without Ben.
I had no panic attacks and I haven't cried yet today. I slept through until 8.30 but I got to school on time. I have heaps of homework but I'm reasonably interested in completing it. I wasn't sure about my friends but they came through. A lot of my teachers pulled me aside but I survived their questions.
Tell you what, that nap was definitely welcomed when I got home. Ok, that series of naps. Each twenty minutes long with 5 minutes between them. I had three and they perked me right up without the worry that I won't sleep tonight.
I went to school with a hickey -_- That I was not too impressed with but I didn't realise it was there until it was all there. Trent's idea of a compromise to tattooing TAKEN on my forehead...It's like a little note that says "Don't even think about thinking about it or I'll fuck your face up." A little possessive but it actually feels ok knowing that he's worried I'll find someone better.

The Gymnast. Again.

Oh, he gon get it. My boyfriend just brought up the Gymnast after a mini spat about me being so close to Ben even though he clearly wants to hit that. I don't speak to the Gymnast because of what we had going on. Which was nothing. That doesn't mean we didn't want it to but irrelevant.
What is relevant is the rule. Rule is; We do not talk about him. And that's exactly who he brought up. HE BROUGHT HIM UP.
The Gymnast, the guy I'm still secretly getting over. The guy I actually made a post about earlier. The guy. THE guy. I pine, I perish.
And it's my boyfriend who says his name first. I take it out of my vocabulary, I block him on facebook, I forget he ever existed and how much he did for me and then the man I love painfully tears open my chest and puts three letters in there. That's it. Three whole letters and panic ensues.
How the hell do I say "Don't use his name, it still hurts" without letting on that saying his name hurts? Turn out "Ok, rules were we don't talk about him. You said that. So don't blame this on me." and then changing the topic really fast works.
It does hurt though. A lot. When I lost that feeling I had with Ben and Bridget and my 9s, when I left school and hid inside myself, the Gymnast pushed to still be in my life. Ben has always been the other half of me but the Gymnast...I loved him so hard it gave me constant head aches. I wanted so much to come from him.
I miss him and I still can't even say his name aloud. I've been trying but I'm scared for some reason. Absence has not made the heart fonder but something freaky is going on.

The Gymnast

I'm such a horrible liar. Especially to myself.
No matter how much I love my boyfriend the sad truth is that I was still thinking of the Gymnast over a year later. I think maybe that's why Trent hates him so much. He could sense there was something I just didn't want to let go. Which is mostly why I agreed to in the end.
Trent got so jealous it started leaking into my other guyfriend relationships and I didn't want to admit I was still hanging on to this painful hope so I conceded defeat. Now I've lost one of my best friends even though he can't hold a candle to Ben.
But that's different. I never loved Ben like I loved the Gymnast. I want to be 'just friends' but how the hell am I supposed to do that when I secretly want to punch his girlfriend? I've never met her but she seems really nice and the worst par is that she actually makes the Gymnast happy.
This post makes me hate honesty.

Can you get Ambulance Frequent Flyer points?

Alright boys, I'm going to share about something you don't want to know.
Well, I got myself admitted to hospital quite recently. My period was late by about six days when I started spotting. I didn't realise I was late until I started spotting and when I noticed the blood wasn't bright red, I started to panic just a little bit. Blood which is darker or even brown can be a symptom of a late period but it's also a symptom of pregnancy. So I was a little worried. And when it didn't get heavier but also didn't stop, I lost it like a fat kid outside a closed bakery. I thought it was another loss.
When the chest pains started, they were so bad I thought I had to be having a heart attack even though I'm eighteen. Then I started to feel like my chest was bottoming out every time I breathed. That was fucking freaky. It was like part of my chest was just disappearing every time I took a breath. I tried really hard to keep it under control but this was the worst panic attack I have ever had and I knew it which just made it worse.
The chest pain went away but then I started to tingle. I called myself an ambulance and waited out the front. It may have been 2am in the morning but I did it alone. I wasn't going to have my dad around for this side of me and I couldn't get hold of Trent. In the ambulance, it got worse. I was taking huge, shuddering, gasping breaths that made my legs shake. It felt like painless pins and needles on the outer halves of both hands, in my toes and when it went further I cried. I felt my face going numb and just closed my eyes. I didn't want to try anymore.
I clung to the stretcher for dear life. In the end, I looked like I was preparing to give birth rather than having the worst panic attack of my life. I was sitting up with my knees as close to my chest as possible so I could see my feet and tell myself they weren't going blue. I had my hands clutching the sides of the stretcher so damn tight that I thought my knuckles were going to burst through the skin. By the time I got to the hospital, I was breathing better but definitely not easy and my heart rate had really slowed down. That meant nothing. I was taking 28 breaths a minute (18 being the highest normal rate) and my heart rate was 114 (90 being the highest norm for someone resting for the last half hour).
They tried to put me in bed 13. I've been in bed 13 and it was unpleasant. I went to 20 instead. After the ten minutes settling me in, I still hadn't calmed down so when they came bearing a sedative in pill form I took it. I forgot to fight them on that. I hate taking tablets. They scare me half to death now I know what I can do with them.
And they came with the needles. I had blood taken and an ultrasound at about 3am. There was nothing there. More appropriate to say no one. I have never been so relieved and so upset at the same time. I went back to bed 20 and tried to sleep. I was lucky enough to get in about an hour before I was cleared to leave.
The best thing about this entire experience is that Trent came. He lives in Cranbourne and doesn't always hear his phone so he can be unreliable but he answered. I was tired and cranky and I missed him so much I didn't care that I hadn't seen him properly in over a week. He took me home and he stayed with me. He was my hero then. I needed him and he actually came through for me.
I poked him awake and tried to tell him some of what I was thinking and feeling but he was asleep again. He probably was before I even had time to open my mouth. I stopped talking and I cried a lot instead. I didn't have much chance to do that well between calling the ambulance and getting back to my bed. I didn't even care that Trent was asleep. I just rolled over and he cuddled me while I cried about everything that was hurting in those dark corners where pain hides itself. Eventually I slept.
He left a couple of hours after I got to sleep but I was ok by then. I got over the panic and the loneliness. Even as I write this, none of the pain or fear comes to mind. Now I can look at it and say it wasn't the end of the world. In the moment, it was terrifying but that was then and this is now.

Return to Lemons

Oh Lemons, how I've missed you. I haven't had a rant in so long. I came on to make one up as I went but I stopped first to read my last post. So now I've found my rant. I read about how I felt because of my miscarriage and it hardly did a thing. I've become so immune to pain that I feel it for no one, including myself. I don't even care what those words about using Lee as a middle name could have done to Ryan. I used present tense instead of past because it's true. I do love him and so hard it hurts. But that is irrelevant and hopefully not the same kind of love I felt 5 years ago. If it is, I'm screwed. Another thing I'm pissed at is the weight gain. I get that I was really fucked up and depressed but I can't rationalise gaining 20 kilos. I WAS DOING SO DAMN WELL. Now I have this little bulge and the bitch of a thing about that is that strangers have put their hands on my tummy and congratulated me. I want to smack them in the face. Granted, when I gain weight it goes to my ass and stomach so I don't actually get the whole 'fat' thing going on. I just get this little bump which makes me look pregnant. So first I have a miscarriage and then it leads to me looking like I'm pregnant? FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-
So I'm laying on this fake bump of mine while I rant my ass off in the middle of the night with yoghurt. Yes. Yoghurt. A side effect of the over-eating that I'm not happy with; I can't sleep on an empty stomach. There is very little yoghurt left which means my tummy is nearing satisfaction so I'll leave now. I'll go elsewhere on the internet until I give up and have a nightmare with a crying baby who isn't there. That is for another time.