About a week ago a friend asked me if I ever censor what I write, or if there are just things I’m afraid to write about. The short answer to that is no. The long answer is that yes, the one place I don’t venture is to writing about family outside of my husband and son. The reason for this, is that some people don’t respect the meaning of friends or family and would sell me down the river in a heart beat if they were mad at me. I can see it now. I wouldn’t loan someone a shirt so they would CC all the bad posts in my blog to anyone I had written about. So sadly I guess its just safer to say I’m smart enough not to trust my family.

The only other time I censor what I write, is when I just can’t find the words to form the thoughts in my head. That is how I feel right now. I feel like right now I could copy the name of Karla’s blog and call my posts Untangling Knots. No, I would never compare my stuff to her, because fuck that woman is amazing and deserves some kind of damn purple heart or some shit for what shes been through. I say knots because that seems to be what kind of mind fuck I’ve created for myself here.

I guess the best place to start is to say that I’m having a really hard time with all this bleeding and bed rest shit. I’m having a hard time in so many ways. I think the first way is that I feel like I’m failing as a mom to Brandon right now. I am having the hardest time not holding my son or picking him up when he falls. I don’t know how to not be there 100% for him and being less of a mom is taking its toll on my soul. The second problem is that people are having such a hard time understanding this. They are really having trouble with the fact that right now all I can think about is my job and my son and my messy house. All I keep hearing is that this baby is more important then anything and I need to realize that and put my life on hold for it.

No one has asked my feelings on this yet. Right now a large part of me is feeling like, if I lose this baby, its because I wasn’t meant to be his mom. Maybe sometimes kids know these aren’t the right parents for them. I’m not saying I don’t want to have this kid, I’m saying, I don’t want to force something that isn’t meant to be. I’m finding it so hard to continue to hear that I have to do what ever it takes to keep this baby in. All I can think is if he doesn’t want to be there, I’m enough of a mom to let him go. I mentioned this once briefly to my husband and he looked at me as though I was a monster. So I’ve shut up about my thoughts. Every time I start to share it sounds like I don’t want this kid and I’m hoping for the worst. But shit people, its really hard to act excited when every time I finally think things are going right I start to bleed again. Tell me, how in the fuck I’m supposed to get excited about that.

Then the other part of me is censoring for my pregnant friends out there. The last thing I need to do is freak them out you know.

I think one of the hardest parts is that it was recently brought to my attention that people very close to me are actually having the nerve to spread the rumor that I am milking all of this to get out of work. That I was taken off bed rest and the only reason I haven’t returned to work is because my dad won’t let me. While it is true that my dad is refusing to let me come back to work it isn’t true that I’m milking this whole bed rest thing. So for you who feel that way here are some facts:

• Yes I was removed from bed rest and put on light duty, with the stipulation that I go two weeks with out spotting, I have, as of yet to go 24 hours with out spotting. In fact, I have yet to go a full week with out having bright read blood.
• I was told that although I was cleared this was entirely up to me. I was supposed to wait two weeks from my last cramp to do anything, I did not wait because I wanted to work and I wanted to be a wife and I wanted to be a mom. I made the decision myself. When I see the doctor at 3pm today I bet I get put back on for real bed rest for the fact that I have blood dripping out of me at a high enough rate to drop on the toilet seat before I sit down.
• Whether or not I’m working is none of your fucking business. To begin with, before you criticize me you should probably make sure you yourself have a job, or are being productive in your own life before you worry about me.
• You should also know that I’ve begged and pleaded to go back to work because my job means something to me. I am important at my work and on the few days I’ve gone back I’ve seen the place falling apart with out me. However, each time I’ve gone back I’ve come home only to start bleeding again.
• One more time IT IS NOT YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS WHY OR WHY NOT! IF I’M NOT WORKING, ME SOMEONE WHO LOVES HAVING A JOB, THEN THERE IS A REASON YOU FUCKING PIECES OF SHIT SO SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!

I’m finding so much about this to be hard. I haven’t cried yet, that isn’t my style. I have a habit of not freaking out until I know. I didn’t cry when I thought I miscarried, I wasn’t going to until I had the facts. I look back now and I’m so happy I didn’t cry over something that never happened. However so much more of whats taking place around me, ie, not picking up my son, not working, not cleaning my house, and the gossip and rumors are really starting to wear me down. I’m surrounded by stories of woe, Sweet/Salty lost baby Liam, Zoot had a miscarriage, Life is so Daily talking about her nephew who died (this one has me so tore up I’m holding in vomit), and poor baby Kaleb whose fucking baby sitter shook him and smothered him causing him to be blind and lifeless. I’m now suddenly realizing that these things happen. I could lose this baby, or I could have it and he could die, or Brandon could walk out the front door tomorrow and get hit by a car. Suddenly I’m so overwhelmed with all of these fears that I can’t even think straight. I want to hug Sweet/ Salty and hold baby Kaleb and I can’t even leave my own house let alone muster any kind of words to write to these people.

However I have to say the hardest part of all of this has been the physical people in my life. I say physical because that discludes all of my blogger friends out there. I’m having such a hard time listening to these people tell me they know what I’m going through because they KNEW SOMEONE this happened too. Or because they were pregnant and one time they had a scare when they had a tiny cramp. Or the friends whose pregnancies were so perfect they can’t even begin to understand what I’m going through, or the people who try and be so perfect they want to act as though they would handle this so much better and be so unphazed and so brilliant about it. Let me explain something, I DON’T CARE WHO YOU KNEW, IT DIDN’T HAPPEN TO YOU. I really don’t want to hear from you if you’ve never carried a child, you don’t know shit. And if you think you can do it better, obviously fucking not, obviously there is a reason God picked me, its because he knew I could handle this shit better then you so shut the fuck up. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound rude, but really, with all I’m feeling right now if I want to be rude excuse the fuck out of me. I’ve had one friend, ONE out of them all, and this was yesterday, she hasn’t had a kid, she doesn’t know shit for what I’m going through and do you know what? She didn’t even pretend to know. You know what else she did, she agreed with everything I said. Because at that moment I think she could just sense that I needed to be right about everything. I told her how I felt, that I was uncertain that I was meant to have this baby, that if I lose it that was what was meant to happen for us, and she said I WAS RIGHT! She just agreed! Shit, I could have said that the color purple should be erased off the earth and shit should be the new state food and she would have agreed. I was so thankful for those few minutes of emailing and yahooing her because to be honest I was on the verge of jumping off a cliff and she calmed me down enough to get back in bed and relax.

The reason I discluded my blogger friends, is that you have all been so amazing. I think the reason a lot of us read each other is we have so much in common. Most of us are moms, most of us have had a difficulty of some degree in pregnancy and most of us are out of our damn minds trying to parent out kids. Times like that, when you all send me reassuring words, or agree with me just for the sake of agreement, makes me wish I could have friends like you in person. Friends who are in the same place as me in life. Friends who don’t judge me and just laugh off my sillyness. Friends who understand sometimes I really just need to freak out and come unglued on my blog to get over the hump. Friends who won’t judge what I’ve just written. Who wont look at me like the devil because I said maybe this child isn’t meant to be mine. Maybe he is, but who knows. We won’t know until the end.

Going pee has never been so scary. I have to give myself a pep talk each time just to convince myself to go. I’ve never been afraid to pee and now every time I’m just afraid of what I will see when I wipe. Every night I’m afraid to sleep because I’m afraid I’ll wake up in my blood again.

There are times I wonder if this baby feels I don’t want him because maybe he thought I wanted a girl, or maybe he thinks I’ll never love anyone like Brandon. Who knows how he feels, all I know is for some reason this child wants to give me hell. I’m writing this flat on my back because the pain of sitting up long enough to type this was killing me, I’m still cramping laying down, I just had a pretty dark wipe and I feel like shit wondering what on earth I’m doing wrong to bring this on to myself!

I never had these feelings with Brandon, I knew from day one I was going to deliver that baby. I knew I was going to be his mom. But this time, I have no clue. I wonder and question and I even pray about it. I ask God to just make up his mind and whatever he decides I will accept it and move on. Every time I get a hold on things and this baby moves or I finally think maybe I’ll take the tags off the things I bought, I start bleeding, and the roller coaster begins again. I just want off this ride, I’ve never done well with roller coasters, I tend to puke.