Monthly Archives: September 2015

Sickened by a hashtag

I’m sure you know the one. Curiousity got the best of me and perused twitter for about 30 minutes. I feel sick to my stomach.  Not just because of the infertility business. I also cannot pass judgment on those women who are using this hashtag. But right now, it sure is hard.

I had a baby taken from me. Evacuated from my uterus entirely too soon. But even before then, before the struggle to conceive.

I will take all your babies. Every last one of them.

*Let me be clear, I know there are medical life endangering situations, this is not what I am talking about. When I went in for my surgery of because of my crazy bleedy bleedy cervix, Joseph and I had made the decision IF it was a choice between me or Calvin, it would be me. That wasn’t giving them permission to kill Calvin, but it one of us was going to die… well you get it. I know some women have ectopic pregnancies that have to be taken care of, or other medical conditions, this is not what I’m upset about. I’m upset about convenience being a factor. I know many of you will likely have differing opinions, and that’s ok.

2 months

it has been two month since my brother and his family were killed in a car accident. It has been a super hard two months.

yesterday, my older sister got married. It was perfect and beautiful. At the reception they did the father daughter/mother son dance, and then my dad was walking off the dance floor and the Martian hop came on. This song is our childhood. We would all dance and jump to this song. So my older brother, sister, dad, and younger sister and I started dancing. About thirty seconds in, I was crying. Smiling, having the best time with my family, and crying. We danced the whole time. And the song ended. And once again, dad was walking off the dance floor, but we knew what was up. So this cd we would dance to in our childhood played the Martian hop, then dancing on the ceiling. So the dad is walking off, and all of my siblings are waiting, and it clicks for him. He comes back and says “this is dancing on the ceiling.” And we all start dancing again.

We looked like fools, dancing our hearts out. And I’m not certain anybody had any clue what was happening, or what in the world we were dancing to(BC for some reason, Martian hop isn’t well known.) But really, it was probably the most healing experience I’ve had. To dance, like crazies, with my family.

We miss my brother, sil, niece, and would be nephew every day. But I am still blessed with the most amazing family.