The things I don’t say…

Facebook is the devil. Seriously.

I was at a small party last night and a broad who I already hate was of course there too. (Btw, girls I dislike I call broads. I’m from New York. It’s what I do.) Like always. She’s best friends with Mr. Big’s best friend’s girlfriend. In other words, I have to see her a lot. She made out with a married man at a party, and smirked about it for the rest of the night. Not Mr. Big. But a friend of ours. This is the biggest reason I hate her, but she’s always rubbed me the wrong way.

Anyways. She was there.

She started some story about someone she knew who had 5 miscarriages and got pregnant and announced on Facebook while it was very early on. Then miscarried, and had to sadly announce it as well. It was this broad’s opinion that it should be kept off of Facebook until they were sure the baby would survive. Let me first say she’s entitled to her opinion. We all are.

I simply rolled my eyes and looked away, tight lipped. What did I want to say?

Good for her! Just so you know, after 5 damn miscarriages this woman knows a hell of a lot more than you how short her baby’s life may or may not be. Believe me she’s all too aware that any moment the blood and pain can come. Her happiness can end. Knowing that, fearing that, she’s brave enough to hold onto the hope that it’ll be different.

Maybe her fear is so consuming that this remaining positive act is just an act to keep her mind off of the fear. Maybe she’s actually celebrating! I sure as hell would celebrate. I would savor every moment of every future pregnancy I have. If I get that lucky.

Should she censor herself to make you feel better? Because her loss makes YOU uncomfortable? Hell no. Newsflash, it’s her damn Facebook page. Her space. She can put whatever the hell she wants on it. If you don’t like something, hide it. Unfollow her. Deal with it!

Now if/when I get pregnant I will not be announcing on Facebook. At all. I will not be posting bump pics every damn day. Nothing. That’s my personal choice. There are a lot of reasons behind it. Those who I’m friends with do that and I unfollow them. Simple. Easy. But if people want to celebrate on facebook that’s their prerogative. Don’t let someone tell you that you should/shouldn’t. Do what you need to for you.

“To yourself be true.”

This goes for the rest of the internet and blogosphere too. People’s blogs and sites are their own. They can post whatever the hell they want. However they feel. Even if it offends you or your mom. If you can’t handle being offended, even in a space or forum that’s supposed to be supportive, then you shouldn’t be online. There’s always that one person who ruins it for everyone else.

Now I’m not saying it’s right to offend people, even accidentally. It’s not right to be a troll. But those of us who know better, who are better, can rise above. You don’t need to start or continue a fight.

You don’t need to attend every battle you’re invited to.

If someone personally calls you out, you can delete comments or posts. You can block and unfollow and hide things. You don’t even need to explain why. Unless you’re consistently being harassed and stalked, it’s easy to rise above and get over it.

No one is forcing you to comment or post or like. You’re not a puppet.

So many girls, or broads as I call them, seem to need drama in their lives. All. The. Time. I wish we could lock them in their own universe. It’s so much happier and more peaceful and calm without the bull shit. Don’t we all have enough to deal with?

We all have something that digs at us.

These are the words I don’t speak. The things I’m hesitant to even post. Of course I have thoughts, opinions and judgements. I’m human. But I don’t need to add stress into my life.

I don’t need to tell the broad at the party that she’s an ignorant gossiping whore.
Even if it’s true.

How much do you not say?


Coping when you don’t believe in god.

*If you are religious, this post is not for you. It shouldn’t be offensive (my intent is never malicious), but it is meant for people who do not believe in organized religion.*

As I mentioned before I am not religious. I was raised catholic. My dad was catholic. My mom is a born again Christian. I had to go through all the hoops and bible school (or get my butt whooped), but I never really believed.

I am able to appreciate the “I’m praying for you” and understand where people are coming from and what they are trying to say. But it offers little or no comfort. It sometimes crosses boundaries and adds more stress to my life, especially when it comes to my mother. Her response shortly after my ectopic surgery was that she had a grand baby in heaven with god. Obviously, that conversation ended there.

I stumbled across this article today called “Coping with your child’s death when you don’t believe in god.” It is the first thing of its kind that I’ve read post ectopic that I really agree with. I could have written most of it. So I’m putting it out here for any of you that share my beliefs, or lack there of.

I also want to thank this community for respecting boundaries. I know a lot of people here are religious. I have not felt like I’ve had someone else’s religion shoved down my throat. I have not been offended. I hopefully have not managed to offend anyone else. This place is very healing and open, which is unlike most places on the internet. I respect all of you deeply.

Beautiful for grieving mothers.

A friend of mine shares beautiful things on child loss from time to time. Here is a link to one she shared. A service that aims to ease mother’s pain after losing a baby. From just 5 weeks in utero to newborns. The article is “The Unexpected Gift That Helped A Grieving Mother Face The World Again.”

Here is a heart to hold’s website.

❤ I had to share. ❤

You wanna know how I got these scars?

3 scars on the outside, too many to count on the inside.

June 25th. So I was then officially not pregnant. I’m not sure how your body reacts after a miscarriage or other loss but I’m assuming it’s similar. You get all the after effects of being pregnant, postpartum depression included, with no bundle of joy to show for it.

Hair: I shed like a cat before this mess. During the pregnancy, as is normal, I didn’t shed as much. But after the metho and after my hcg dropped it all fell apart. My bathroom and tub looked like I was scalping people inglorious basterds style. IMG_3977
We pulled a hair clog the size of a small rat out of the drain. After every shower I’d pull a mouse sized clump from the tub. The look of horror on my hubby’s face is burned into my mind. How I’m not bald is beyond me.

Skin: Acne. Godzilla acne. It wasn’t this bad when I was going through puberty! Cystic, hormonal acne. Pizza face acne. Acne that is resistant to every face cream, scrub pad, face wash product known to man. It’s been 3 months and it’s still here. 😦

Lady Bits: After the surgery, the entire left half of my lady-bits-n-pieces was black it was so bruised. And swollen. I called the ob because I swore something would fall off of me. Apparently it’s normal. It did subside quicker than I thought. But boy was it scary!

Body: Swollen legs (normal). Horrible pain in the shoulders due to the gas pumped into my abdomen during surgery. Weight gain. Weak. Sore. Word to the wise, take the laxative after surgery. For the love of whatever you pray to, take the damn laxative.
It took a while to fully physically recover from the surgery. As far as moving, exercising, not feeling pain, using my abs again, fitting into jeans again goes. Several weeks. And this was keyhole surgery.

Emotions:This is going to be a long section. You’ve been warned. Well there’s the depression, jealousy, anger, dealing with grief just from losing the little pea and an essential part of your womanly package. Then there’s the postpartum hormone surges and the possibility for postpartum depression. Yay! That’s a recipe for a disaster cocktail.

My first trip out of the house as soon as I could walk upright on my own was brief. We went to Wegmans, our upstate NY grocery store of amazingness. If you don’t have one near you, I’m sorry. Sincerely. It was the one store I missed when I lived in SC for a couple of years. Anyways, I figured grocery shopping would be ok. But little did I know that every pregnant woman, every newborn, every trashy family with 10 kids would be there too. I can’t count the number of times I almost let the tears escape. Hubby saw and got us out as quickly as possible.

Speaking of the hubs, he was and still is an amazing saint of a man through all this. He cancelled his birthday party and spent his birthday taking care of me. He has been my rock this whole time. He has been my teddy bear of a man, soft when I need him to be. My grizzly bear, defensive of me when necessary. He didn’t cower under a rock when my hormones made me a raging lunatic that cried all the time over everything. (I don’t recommend watching what to expect when you’re expecting even when you think you’re stable again btw). He is my everything. Pardon the shout out. It was overdue. ❤

Next Chapter: Mother Nature is a bi*€h


Hi cyberverse! I’m not big on small talk so let’s cut to the chase shall we? This year I went through getting pregnant with an ectopic pregnancy, having the tube rupture, having surgery, and starting to heal. It was my first and so far only pregnancy. With lots of drama and emotions in between.

I have found a surprising lack of info, support, and discussion about this common occurrence. Especially in the USA. The last I read, 1 in 50 pregnancies is ectopic. Something like 1 in 5 pregnancies will end. (Ectopic, miscarriage, still birth etc).

Until this year I had never even heard the term “ectopic pregnancy”.

Oh sure in health class in school we took how to make a baby 101 and learned that an std would kill you or drive you insane. But the word ectopic never came up.

Ectopic pregnancy is the number 1 cause of death in the first trimester.

I’m starting this blog for several reasons. Not in any specific order: 1) I love to write. Writing is therapeutic for me. Given that I went through a trauma I figured this would help. 2) To raise awareness of the serious and common danger of ectopic pregnancies. 3) To let others who have been through this and worse know that they are in fact not alone. 4) If I can make even one person feel better or comfort them in any way then I will be happy.

I’m trying to put my story out there with as much detail as I can. For those of us going through this when researching online the devil is in the details. I’ll try to be thorough. If I leave things out I will edit later. I’m always editing in my life. I’ll try to cut it up into more easily digestible chunks for you. It may take some time before I’m caught up with where I am right now. I honestly can’t wait until it’s all out and back to the present tense.

Also, for convenience sake I’m writing most of these on my phone. Autocorrect sucks. Please excuse the random if instead of of and whatever else slips through.

Happy reading! Thank you for stopping by!