The Woes of Miscarriage

Don't worry, I don't plan to share all the nasty details of my miscarriage. I just was to get some things off my chest. I'm not blaming anyone, anything or pointing fingures.
Mother's Day was awesome this year. I found out I was prego (pregnant) and I was so close to heaven. Nothing could get me down. I wanted everything for my baby and I imagined everything they would do, what their name would be, what they would learn, the silly things kids get into or do that just brings tears to your eyes. My hopes were dashed when I experinced the most pain in my entire life. I stood up and I would go into labor. Brian had to carry me around. The pain pills I was given made me throw up. I couldn't sleep, eat drink, nothing but lay in bed or on the couch doing homework, which isn't very uplifting.
There are so many emotions that go through your head when something like that happens. When Brian and I got home from the doctors I stayed up all night. I didn't want to sleep. I was afraid of my dreams. I knew they would be nightmares. I had read somewhere that sleeping pills prevent REM cycles, the state in which you dream, and I was sourly tempted to take some. But we didn't have any and Brian would go get me any the pain pills made me sick and I didn't want any medicine anyway.
I want to thank everyone who helped me during that first week. Every little thing was a life saver. A week after the miscarriage I went about life as usual. I acted like nothing happened, I didn't talk about it, think about it, I just pretty much wanted to move on. It didn't last for long. That following weekend, Brian and I made arrangements to go hiking and rock climbing. We met up with some friends, went up the canyon and the first trail was wrong, but there was a prego lady there, walking around with her other kid and husband. I wanted to kick her. I had never felt such stupid violent rage before against another person, who was a stranger. Sorry siblings about the past rage, you raged back occasionally and it built character. Well after discovering the trail was wrong we went to another one, and it turned out to be right. Sure enough there was another prego lady there and I wanted to kick her in the stomach as well. "What the crap? What is wrong with me?" I asked myself in my head, becasue I do talk to myself in the head. It's just me that talks back. As other friends arrived, I remember one girl who made me so made, just because she was there. She had the EFY t-shirt on and acted all Molly Mormany on me and I hated her becasue of it. I thought I was righteous enough to have a kid, why couldn't I? Why did I lose my baby? I thought this girl was pretending to be better than me. I ostrasized her and I don't know if she felt the effects of it, but she did a little bit later. Afterwards my husband asked me what was wrong and I stated plainly that that girl hated me. He replied that she didn't even know me, but sure didn't feel love for me now. I started crying at this and the subject was dropped.
Later, my emotions and hormones led me to scream at the husband is such a way that frightened him. I dropped the f-bomb and let him really have it for every little thing that was bugging me recently, including his family, the state of Utah, his little habits, etc. Brian was drving when this outburst happened and he swerved in suprised. It took ten minutes until Brian could get a word in edgewise. I apologized later but I was suprised and I couldn't figre out what was wrong with me until my mom explained it. It was the hormones. It was like being on a period but times one hundred the PMS. Poor Brian.
After figuring this out, I was more cautious about my actions and words. I ignored the little things more, at least the little things Brian did. I found a book that explained exactly how I felt and I gave it to Brian to read. He didn't read it, but it put me in a better perspective. It even gave me some great lines to use on people who started telling me things like, "You'll get pregnant again," or "It was all for the best." These unseemingly hurtful comments would give me nightmares and created a wall between me and that person. After thinking about things I had some pretty awesome comebacks ready for them. The first was to start crying in earnist when they made a comment like that and I would start asking them, "What are you saying? Why would you say that?" That I felt was the best. The other was, "I'm sorry, I know you are concernd and trying to help, but telling me it was for the best is not what I need to hear right now. I'm grieving for the loss of my baby." That I used if crying failed. The other would be to be outright bold and rude. I figured if someone was stupid and insensitive enough to say something horrible like that to me, they didn't deserved to be thanked, or to be my friend during my difficult time. It was more effort than it was worth.
Keeping busy was an awesome way to get over "it" as some would put the miscarriage. It was something I learned from President Hinckley. I found when I was busy I didn't think depressing thoughts and I was usually exhauseted by the end of the day and I didn't have nightmares.
The best was talking. As in I talk you listen sort of thing. It helped the best, especially with my mom and my aunts. They listened and if they had an opinion they waited until I was done or asked and they usually had the right answers. I could figure out the whole husband non-super-crying-sensitive thing. It also helped me figure out what I was feeling and how to describe it. My mom, knowing what it's like and knowing me could tell me exactly what I felt when I described what I was going through. It was easier to tell Brian and explain to him why I would get so upset or sad or pissed at anything.
I'm now feeling a lot better. I am able to talk to my prego friends more and not hate them or my friends and family who had kids. I taught Primary and after the miscarriage I thought of going to my Bishop to get released because I didn't know if I could take another Sunday in a room full of kids, but then I realised I would have to face Relief Society and kids are generally ignorant, where as the Relief Society, they know everything. I didn't think I could stand being asked "How are you" every single moment, every single week. Plus I realized I love my small, quiet class of kids. They make me laugh and remember that life goes on and I will have a baby.
So in closing, the best thing to say to someone grieving a miscarriage, "I'm sorry," "Sorry for your loss," "I'm here if you need to talk," and "is there anything I can help you with?" Be careful with that last one, because you might have to help, but it'll be appreciated.

It's finally done

Karlee finally got married to Alex and all I can say is FINALLY! I remember when they first met and their first kiss and their dramatic arguments (that still go on today) and all that waiting for the other crap when Alex left on his mission. We all worked hard to push them through so they are finally together forever.
Well enough of that, Brian and I had a good time running around playing in Sheridan but we're happy to get home. Cause we can't stand sleeping on another waterbed, air mattress or the ground again. Our backs have slowly become crippled as we've slept on these different assortments or what people call "beds". Who the crap thought of these mattresses? Hey, lets go sleep on a plastic bag filled with water! Hey, lets go sleep on a plastic bag filled with air! They won't be too bad for our backs. We'll make enough money on these stupid mattresses that we can pay other people to fix our backs, screw the middle and lower class people. And the floor, isn't that what abused kids sleep on? I thought my parents actually liked me better than a red-headed step-child. I felt like Harry Potter at his horrible aunt's and uncle's.
Well the floor helps the back, I didn't sleep on the floor, Brian did and he quite enjoyed it. The only mistreatment we had was at the hotel we stayed at in Billings by the receptionist in the evening.
Anywho, moving on... guess what happened to Brian and I? Yeah you won't guess, you'll just keep reading. So at the start of our marriage, before I had Brian on a shorter leash, he went out and bought a projector. Not the little sleek nice ones. He bought Big Bertha. She weighs two-hundred pounds and is bigger than your average four-year-old child. If Big Bertha was a real kid I'd show her on as many tacky talk shows they have, including Operah . The fact is, Big Bertha, isn't alive but we still can't get rid of her. Brian grew sick of her and posted all the details of her largeness on some online classified add. We've had many come by and look at the freaky largeness of Bertha but so far no takers. Our favorite visiters were from Guatemala. They had a little car and were planning on loading it up and driving all the way back home... to Guatemala. We advised them not to because it was just plan strange and stupid. They called back and they got a bigger car so we might sell it to them because thats a step up from strange and stupid. It's now just plan strange. We'll give you details as events warrant.
Love you all... Daladna (russian for whatever).