Autopsy. Genetics. Infections. Disorders. Stillbirth. Cremation. Funeral.
Today I celebrate the one year mark of the above mentioned words becoming almost daily words in my life.
Ah, fuck that, you all know that I don't let things go that easily.
Fuck. That is the word I feel like saying.
So it's May 26th. It's not his birthday, but it was the day he died.
Tomorrow, May 27th, will be the day of hell I went through getting induced for the start of my 26 hours of fun.
And finally, Friday, he gets a birthday. One only on paper, as he was never really born, I guess he was imaginary.
I wish someone had explained those hemorrhoids & stitches were imaginary. Along with all the "did you drink/smoke/fall/do drugs/have medical problems/blah blah blah" questions I was asked.
Talk of putting the baby in a box. "No thanks, I have a $500 crib for that, but thanks anyway. Oh, wait, that won't work now."
I'm sad. But I'm still oh so bitter & angry. And honestly, the bitterness & anger grows the more I think about things during my pregnancy. Worries I had that were dismissed with bad medical advice.
It's going to be a lonely day. Adam works, I go to the doctor. He signed up for online classes last week & can't change out of them...oops, they've changed online only classes to "online with mandatory live meetings." The 26th is the first mandatory meetings from 5-8, over an hour away.
Of course, what he realized tonight is that it's not at their main graduate campus like we thought...it's one of like 5 summer classes being taught in their little building out in the middle of no where. Why is that important?
Well, it's the same little town I've only been to twice...one time was to deliver Joel, 2nd time was to pick up his autopsy report.
That's right, it's right down the street from the hospital Joel was delivered at, the little out of the way hospital an hour from us in a town we never go to. He'll be able to look out the window & stare at the hospital.
And it was listed in bright red font...like fate was totally bitch slapping us.
There was even 2 different sections of the exact same class. Thinking they were both 100% online he just picked one. So it just so happens that he picks the one in this little down. Oh, & it's an hour longer than the other version of it. Makes no sense to me, but whatever.
Of course, he'll also get to go there again on June 16th, the day before The Blair is set to be born. So I'll be home along the night before, packing my own bag.
In other news, I feel like complete crap. Yes, already. I'm sick to my stomach, my chest feels tight, & I just want to cry but I know once that starts it won't stop for a while, so I'm hoping to hold off on that adventure until tomorrow so I can actually get some sleep tonight. There are some things even ambien can't get me to sleep through.
In just over 3 weeks The Blair should be here...if he lives. Yes, I still think that sometimes. And by sometimes, I mean alot.
I have a doctors appointment tomorrow. Nice to know things are alright. But on a day I'm convinced is jinxed I'm waiting for the ball to drop. Of course, part of me wouldn't mind if the doctor said, "we think he needs out now." Yes, I'd like him to cook as long as possible, but when you have one die in the last stage of cooking, you don't mind the idea of a little but undercooked. Alive is the goal. Obviously.
So here goes the start of my 3 days of reliving hell. And, because I'm bitter, seeing who, if anyone, remembers. I don't want people to dwell on it, but it would be nice to get an email/card/phone call from at least some peeps in the family. Sadly though, I'm not holding my breath. I doubt my parents will even mention it & I'll blame Dear Abby for that one. Last time I was there, they had a paper with Dear Abby, who was talking about how it's painful for people to remind parents of their dead babies & how it wasn't appropriate. I didn't get the chance to point out it was bullshit, so I wonder if they'll take Dear Abby to heart. Let's hope not, I personally find her to be a huge cunt when it comes to dead babies, but again, I'm bitter & angry & take offense to someone who has never had it happen "advise" people on how to remember, or forget, babies so you don't upset the parents or how people shouldn't show pictures of their dead babies. But that's another rant for another time.
Goodnight. I'll try to make it out of bed sometime over the next 3 days. I promise. Kinda. Maybe.