Sienna's Birth Story

I am such a whirlwind of emotion, and so much has happened that I'm not sure how to write this entry, where to start, or what to say.  So I'm just going to do as I usually do:  put my fingers on the keys and start typing. 

I am going to tell the story of Sienna's birth.  Saturday night, my son and I were watching movies and playing with Legos.  I had been having the worst gas ever in the history of mankind (sorry, TMI) throughout the day and it wasn't until about 10:30 that I realized I was feeling more than just gas cramps -- I was having regular contractions.  I also noticed some blood when I went to the bathroom and I was concerned, so I asked my mom if she thought it was worth bothering the midwife about.  She said that it was normal and that I would probably go into labor within the next couple of days.  By 12:30, though, they were five minutes apart and I had sprung a small leak, so I knew it was safe to let people know I was in labor.

I texted my mom, the adoptive mom, and my doula.  I knew I still had plenty of time, so I didn't call anyone yet.  I relaxed in the bathtub with some labor tea and things slowed down considerably.  When I got out, I tried to get some sleep, but the contractions started coming harder and faster.  I called my doula and she said adrenaline was probably affecting me and suggested I get back in the bath -- they were only lasting 10-20 seconds.  The second bath didn't stop the contractions, but it definitely made the pain more bearable.  While I relaxed in there, I tried to read Natural Hospital Birth.  During all of this, my son had gone to sleep (he told me later that he went to sleep because he was tired of checking the time for me -- I kept asking him what time it was every time I had a contraction), my sister had come over, and the adoptive mom had called me back.  I told her I was going to labor at home as long as I could, and then I'd let her know when I was heading to the hospital.  My sister left with my son at around 3:30 and the contractions kept getting stronger and lasting longer.  I tried to get some sleep again, but it wasn't happening.  By 4:30 things were REALLY starting to hurt, and I was being very vocal.  I didn't care about the neighbors or anyone else who heard me.  I was trying to make the "MAAAAAAAAAA" sound, as I had read that it was helpful, but I was also saying, "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" like ohhhhhhhhhh my god, this hurts.

Contractions had been steadily at 7 minutes apart, and amazingly I suddenly found myself sleeping between them.  I made some more labor tea and sipped on that as well.  When I got to the point where they were too close together to sleep between, I called my doula and told her I thought it would be soon and asked her to come over.  This was about 6.  She and her apprentice got there by 6:30 and their support was invaluable over the next hour, as I was at the point where I had already had an epidural with my other two and I was feeling pain unlike anything I'd ever experienced before.  She kept reminding me to keep my face relaxed and gave me pointers on more comfortable positions to labor in.  She kept me focused by talking to me in a soothing voice and looking at me in my eyes, which helped distract me and give me strength.  She reminded me to take deep breaths and stay calm.  I did very well at that for a while, but there came a point later at which I couldn't even force myself to breathe deeply or stay calm.  But while we were at the apartment, I felt in control, serene, and focused.  The contractions racked my body, but I felt strong enough to handle them.

Juliea drew three goddess oracle cards for me while we were there, and I was amazed at  the reading.  The middle card, which signifies the present, was Butterfly Maiden.  It was all about transformation and rebirth, which definitely applied to me at that current phase of life.  The future was Eireen (Peace), which depicted the goddess holding a baby.  And I knew that a peaceful resolution was at the end of this.  In the past position was Brigit, and it said "Don't Back Down" at  the bottom.  That symbolized me standing my ground and going forward with my decision to do what was right, without backing down.  I was passionate enough about giving my baby the best life that I was able to maintain my conviction, even in times of doubt.  The reading was simply amazing and I'm very glad we did it, because it reassured me that all would be well and helped me stay positive.  I went forward, renewed with the sense that all was as it was meant to be.

At about 7:30, I was having a contraction and in the middle of it, I felt a feeling similar to a gas bubble gurgling in my abdomen, it was like a popping feeling.  As soon as that happened, the contraction intensified.  When I stood up, my pants were soaked -- my water had broken, and we needed to get to the hospital.  We gathered up my things and my doula called the adoptive parents to let them know.  While we were enroute, I called the midwife.  Things were intense.  I could barely hold myself together during a contraction.  When we got to the hospital, they put me in triage and I started dry heaving.  My doula put some aromatherapy stuff in the basin, sprayed something, and held on to me while I had contractions.  I found that standing and holding the edge of the bed was the most comfortable position for me to labor in.  They asked if I wanted an epidural and I said I was going to try not to.  At this point, I was feeling a pain that I could never imagine or describe.  However, I still felt in control.

They got me to my room and my doula set up crystals and got out massage oils and other goodies to help me labor.  She had me hold onto a stone, which I clutched until the end.  I believe it was red jasper, but I could be wrong.  It was in that room that I lost it.  I couldn't breathe deeply, I kept hyperventilating.  I couldn't stay relaxed, I was tense and shaking and even rocking back and forth during contractions was not helping.  My doula was rubbing my back and applying counterpressure, which DID help, but that was taking it down from a 20 to a 17 on a scale of 1 to 10.  I kept screaming, and she told me not to, to make low, throaty sounds -- but I couldn't.  I started to panic.  I looked at her and said, "I changed my mind.  I want the epidural.  I'm sorry, I tried, but I can't do this."  She kept trying to distract me and suggest other things, and the contractions were on top of eachother so I only got a few chances to argue back with her.  No one was doing anything!  No one was getting me an epidural, and I knew if I waited too long it would be too late.  I started begging her, so she lied to me and said it was on the way so why don't we get in the shower while we're waiting.  I agreed, but I had a feeling that it was already too late.

She turned on the water in the shower and as soon as I got in, I had the strangest feeling.  My body was pushing, all on its own.  I never realized how automatic that was.  In that moment, I recalled women saying they had been told to stop pushing, and I realized how impossible that would be.  Believe me, I wasn't ready for that yet -- but I didn't have a choice!  They moved me to the bed, and the doctor wasn't even there yet.  I didn't care, the baby was coming and I couldn't wait for anyone.  The girls helped me keep my legs up and coached me through the pushing.  I was scared, I didn't want to give in to it.  As much as I was hurting, I feared the pain that was coming when she came out of me.  The midwife arrived and she said, "You have to PUSH with the contraction!" so I bit the bullet and pushed.  She made a comment about how much hair the baby had, so I knew she was close.  I even commented about how much heartburn I had and we shared a giggle between contractions.

On the next contraction, I pushed with all my might...I felt her start to come out...then when she was crowning, it hurt so bad that I stopped pushing.  They started yelling at me, "Don't stop pushing!" so I started pushing again, and yes, it was a very unique and excruciating horrendous type of pain, but it was short.  As soon as Sienna was all the way out, the pain immediately stopped.  I didn't feel any pain at all, just love.  I was shaking from the adrenaline and in a state of disbelief.  Did I really just do that?  They placed her on my stomach and she was as calm as could be.  She didn't cry or fuss, just peacefully lay there, looking around.  They asked if I wanted someone to cut the cord, and I said her parents.  The adoptive mom came in the room and cut the cord, while I looked on in amazement.  This is the moment I had feared -- I thought I would feel regret, sadness, grief.  I thought I could not bear to give my baby to her mother.  But instead, a feeling of "this is right, this is her mother, and I am okay with that" washed over me.  Instead of feeling regret, I felt an amazing gratitude for having had the very special role of bringing this beautiful baby into the world.  I felt blessed that she had chosen me, and in doing so, transformed me in the process.  I know that they were meant to be her parents, and I was meant to bring her to them.  I felt so blessed that I got to share the first part of her journey and be a part of such an amazing miracle.

The adoptive mother held her with tears in her eyes.  Sienna did not cry or fuss or seem scared.  I could sense this amazing awareness about her, like she knew exactly what was going on, and understood.  She didn't seem confused, overwhelmed, or bewildered -- it was the wisest looking newborn I have ever seen.  I really believe that she is an old soul and already possesses a wisdom beyond what a typical newborn should have.  When she got hungry, I nursed her for about 40 minutes.  She did great -- it made me a little sad that she won't be able to breastfeed, because she was so good at it.  It just came naturally to her.  I really loved and appreciated having that time to hold her close to me and bond with her.  I was amazed with her.  Again, this was a part that I had imagined and predicted to be hard.  I thought I would bond with her in a way that would make it difficult to part with her.  Instead, I felt like we were sharing our love for each other and being grateful for each other and taking the time to communicate our feelings to each others hearts where we could hold them there forever after we had gone on down our own separate paths.

She was 7 lbs 5 ounces, 20 inches long.  She had TONS of silky, beautiful hair.  It looks cute right now because it kind of sticks up and looks spiky.  She is currently the spitting image of her father, but I know as she gets older her features will change and she will show some of my traits as well.  I saw her twice more before I left the hospital and was comforted each time by how happy and peaceful she seemed.  I can see how happy this family is together, and I am beyond words at how special it makes me feel for having a part in making that happen.

Before I was moved to my room, we had a small ceremony just as I had imagined, and it was touching.  I held Sienna and said a few words to her parents (I don't remember at all what I said, I was in a haze) and then I passed her to them and they said some things to me.  There wasn't a dry eye in the room.  Then we lit a unity candle and my doula said some things and hugged me.  I couldn't stop crying -- I had been holding in my tears for so long and the floodgates just burst open.  She gave me a healing poncho that the sisters had made for me, and a T-Shirt that said "Not afraid, not alone, not anymore" down the side and "Not This Girl" along the bottom.  I cried and cried and cried.


I'm not going to lie, I have had some difficult moments since her birth.  I have had no regrets, but it is natural to feel sad from time to time.  After all, I carried her in my womb for 9 months, of course I miss her.  My milk is coming in and sometimes I cry that I have no baby to nurse.  This is really what makes it a sacrifice -- I am enduring this pain in her place.  She is so loved, and has BROUGHT such love to every life she has touched.  To see that happen is worth all the tears I cry today.  Yes, I am suffering.  But that does not mean it was not meant to be -- what's easy is not always right, and what's right is not always easy.  The days ahead will be rocky, and it's hard now to transition into normal life when I haven't transitioned into normal clothes.  But life does go on, and I have to manage my emotions and get through it like anyone else does.

All of my pain, sadness, and trauma from over the past year, all of my mistakes and bad decisions, all of it was surrendered to the higher good and transformed into something so awesomely wonderful that it makes it all worth it.  Like a lotus, blossoming from the muck, Sienna is like a beautiful angel born of the yucky crap that was my life.  It all had a purpose, and now I am starting over too into MY new life, as if I were a newborn as well.  I may have been a victim before, but now I am a survivor.  I may have been a prisoner of toxic attachments, but I know in my heart, I am NOT THAT GIRL.

Kickstarts

I have another awesome video.  I have been listening to my Pandora station at work and heard this bad-ass song.  :)

Kickstarts

9 of Swords/41 Weeks *DUE DATE!!*

This stupid old man just threw off my entire train of thought.  I'm so irritated!  Okay, so I just got to the library.  We had a bunch of books and movies to return, so we were putting them in the return slot which is clearly labeled, "One item at a time".  My son is six years old and none too speedy, but he wanted  to put the books in the slot so I let him do it.  He wasn't hurting anything.  I noticed that there was a guy waiting behind us, he was like 150 years old.  I told my son to go a little faster because someone was waiting.  He was putting the last book in the slot and the rude jerk reached OVER him to put HIS book in at the same time.  I said, "You could have waited a second!" and he replied, "You didn't have to go so slow."  I was amazed at what an asshole this guy was, because seriously -- my son is SIX.  And I HIGHLY doubt he had a hot date or anything.  I told him to kiss my ass and he said, "It's big enough!"  Well DAMN dude, I am 41 weeks pregnant today!  It is my m*$#@!f*&%$ng due date, so kindly FUCK OFF!!!!

It is hard to remain in a peaceful mindset after dealing with idiots.  The past few days haven't been very easy for me and it just seems like I continue to be tested.  I've been so distracted at work from the excruciating back pain and the drama that was going on with N and thinking about the adoption that my audit scores went from a 98.8 to a 97.15.  That may not SOUND like a lot, but it's terrible.  I'm doing stupid things, like forgetting  to sign and date contracts.  I don't even know if I'm going to have a job to come back to -- it isn't guaranteed -- so I'm stressing out about that, too.  I feel like there's way too much going on and I'm in way over my head, I never manage to get caught up.

Yes, I have my family to help, but it's not the same as having a partner.  If my sister ran out of gas, she would only have to call her husband and he would help her.  If he were sick, she could handle the housework and keep everything afloat so he could recover.  If my brother's wife had a giant belly and had trouble putting on her socks and shoes, my brother would be right there to help her do it.  For me, it doesn't matter if I'm tired, depressed, hurting -- I have to do it all by myself.  I have one income and one car and one set of hands.  I have no one to talk to and no one to laugh with to take my mind off of everything, no one who is just THERE.  I hate being alone.  I could be angry with N for robbing me of the opportunity to have everything I ever dreamed of, everything I THOUGHT I would have with him but he KNEW he would never be able to give me.  But really, is it his fault?  As soon as I realized she was living with him and he didn't seem to have any intention to leave, that was my first opportunity to start over and go look for what I really want.  I didn't.  I'M the one who wasted all that time, time that could have been spent finding the right one.  Instead I buried my head in the sand and pretended that one day magically this ugly stupid toad would turn into my prince charming.  Yeah, right.  He just got uglier and stupider.

I just need to breathe.  Life sucks sometimes, but it can't suck forever.  I got a couple of magazines and some posterboard so I can make a dream board today.  That's where you put images that symbolize things you want to manifest in your life, and you meditate on the collage daily to attract those things into your life.  I made one before, and almost everything I had glued to that posterboard made its way into my life.  Unfortunately, the Ford Fusion never materialized.  I guess I didn't have enough power for that one.  But, I got a job, I found love (my fault that I didn't specify LASTING love), and I lost weight.  Where attention goes, energy flows!

I hate my new apartment.  It smells funny and I'm not sure why -- it's an old person smell, like mothballs or something.  It's tiny and it's hot and it has this vibe about it that makes me feel depressed.  I REALLY need to do something about saving money and finding some place to go.  This program only  goes six months, putting me to about June.  Then, I'm back at square one.  It's been hard to plan for the future when I have so many pressing issues to attend to right now.  See what I mean about feeling like I'm drowning?  It's no wonder I'm snapping at random old men at the library.

Besides, I am very well aware that there is no way I can prepare myself for how hard it is going to be to give birth to a baby -- my own flesh and blood, made by MY body (with a tiny bit of help from him, but not much...all he contributed was a little sperm, MY heart pumped blood into her veins, MY body created a placenta through which she received nourishment that I provided, through ME she ate and breathed and survived).  She knows my heartbeat, and my voice, and I will be responsible for separating her from me.  Hell, it's not even just that -- she still won't be capable of recognizing that I even AM a separate entity from her.  To her newborn understanding, we are the same person.  How does it feel to be separate from yourself?

She won't be capable of understanding why it was for the best for quite some time to come.  It will be years before she can accept the whys and hows of my decision, and in the meantime, how will she feel?  It's not like there's anything I can really do about it.  I can feel angry, I can feel helpless, I can feel sad.  Nothing changes.  To people on the outside, it's so simple.  You have a baby you can't take care of, they have the means to take care of a baby, bada bing!  You have a baby, they want a baby, problem solved.  But babies are not meant to be traded and interchanged like outfits!  They don't just go with any set of parents, they were custom designed for ONE SPECIFIC SET.  My milk will be tailored to her exact nutritional needs.  She will respond to my scent, my sound, my touch.  A baby is not just a three prong plug that will fit the same into any three prong hole -- a baby is like a special key, designed to work with just one lock.  It doesn't matter that it isn't my fault or isn't what I would choose, the fact is that she's innocent and she will suffer because I didn't make better decisions.  Well, her father can share the blame with me on that one.  What the hell was he thinking, trying to get another girl pregnant while he's married?  Didn't HE ever consider the trauma the child would endure?  Did he care?  How reckless to intentionally create a life that you are in no position to raise properly!  How selfish.  How thoughtless.  His lack of feelings and my lack of sense were a deadly combination, but look who pays the price now.  It hardly seems fair, does it?  But again, life isn't fair.

I know I'm going to absolutely lose my mind doing this.  I know that I will never be the same.  I know that something inside me will break.  Sometimes I really wish life had a rewind button.

4 of Swords

Okay, first of all, GROSS.  I am SO SICK of my daughter's dad making sexual comments to me, it makes me want  to vomit!!!  Yes, I realize that (somehow) at one point I was not repulsed by the thought of sexual contact with him, but it has been EIGHT YEARS!  First of all, get over it.  Secondly, have some respect for me -- it makes me very uncomfortable and he should be more considerate.  Third, GROSS!!!!! 

It's weird to me to  think that at some point, I will think of N in the same way.  It's encouraging, though.  I hear these sad songs that make me miss him, and I remember that the same songs made me miss my last ex when I heard them.  Now, when I think of my last ex, I am indifferent.  I think it's a survival skill that I developed over the years -- shut off the feelings, shut off the attraction, it's like we never were.  The only problem is, I have no control over when it happens.  I wish I could avoid  this phase altogether -- the tearful nights, the fighting the urge to call or text, the stupid reminiscing, the loneliness.  The only thing that keeps me strong is knowing at the end of this, I will feel nothing.  I think it's horrible that a person who cares nothing for you can make you bond to him so intensely.  It doesn't seem fair that it's possible to fall hopelessly in love with someone who doesn't give a shit about you.  Oh well, who ever said life was fair, right?

So, I went to the midwife last night.  I have gained 46 pounds!!!!  OH MY GODDESS.  I'm not surprised, though.  I was doing so well for so long -- whole grains, fruits, yogurt, and vegetables.  Somewhere along the way, discipline and self-control went out the window.  I'm not surprised I've gained so much -- look in my car!  You'll see Hostess cupcake wrappers, Wendy's bags, soda cans, sucker sticks, Taco Bell cups...ugh.  I did cry about it, but that obviously doesn't change anything.  The only thing I can do is make better choices moving forward, so today I did.  I'm going to keep it up!  Besides, I don't think I look terrible with a couple extra pounds on me.  I can't wait to start working out again though so I can at least tighten up.  I'm dreading  the after-baby belly, but luckily I will have a few months before skimpy clothes season is upon me again. 

Wow, I don't really know what to talk about.  That's a first, right?  I guess I'm still a little depressed, and I haven't really been DOING much, so there isn't much to talk about.  I've been reading, working, and sleeping.  That's it.  I deleted from the dating site because I don't think I'm going to find what I'm looking for there, and I'm not sure if I'm ready.  Besides, why rush to get into another relationship?  My kids deserve to be in the spotlight for a little longer, even if I AM lonely.  There are men who prey on lonely women and that's not a place I really want to go right now either.  I think that barber guy, we'll call him "D", made me realize that.  I'm going  to respect my intuition this time and not pursue anything with him, because his persistence really made me wary. 

Who is that persistent with a woman who is 9 months pregnant?  It's not even flattering because he doesn't know enough about me to warrant being SO interested.  There are plenty of fish in the sea, as they say, and I know there's nothing that special about me -- so it must be something wrong with him.  Or maybe he senses that I'm vulnerable and wants to exploit it.  No thank you.  I should probably stick with my original plan and date women only from now on -- I just don't think I'll ever be able to trust a man again.  Besides, women are so much better looking.  :)

Well, I need to get some ice cube trays so I can make my labor tea and freeze it.  I also need to get some money orders to pay my rent, and some evening primrose capsules as recommended by my doula to help ripen my cervix.  So, I bid you adieu!

Oh, the 4 of swords -- I chose it because this is a time of rest and recovery for me after my recent emotional wounds.  A time to pause and heal, like I was talking about earlier, before moving forward.  After all, what else have I got to do right now?  :)

5 of Pentacles

I know I've been lazy, I haven't been explaining the cards I chose in the last few entries.  I figure if anyone is interested enough, Google isn't that complicated.  Today I chose the 5 of Pentacles, initially because of the weather -- it corresponds well with the imagery on this card!  However, the underlying meaning is relevant as well.  This is kind of a hopeless time for me, but I'm marching forward despite the cold and driving snow.  This card is associated with depression, which I am experiencing a slight bout of right now.  Just a week or so ago, wasn't I talking about how I was only sleeping 3 or four hours a night?  Well, I'm rapid cycling, and I transitioned into a depressive phase.  I have been sleeping pretty much non-stop the last few days and I'm still always tired.  I just need to hang in there,  though.  It will pass -- it always does.

My lesson from the universe at  this stage of my life has been acceptance.  Acceptance, depending on which way I approach it, either sounds much more simple than it really is or entirely impossible.  I often have the mistaken notion that to accept something is to like it, condone it, or approve of it.  I have been grasping lately that you can be accepting of something while still not agreeing with it.  Analogies have always been helpful for me to understand things, so I applied one to this situation and started to get it.  If you wanted to build a castle with blocks and were given only circle blocks, you could say, "If only I had some square blocks.  I could build a much better castle with square blocks."  That may be true, but you don't HAVE any square blocks.  You can either focus on what it SHOULD be, or what it IS.  When you focus on what IS and accept that you only have round blocks, then you are able to move forward into accomplishing something with them.  Conversely, you could accomplish nothing at all and blame your circumstances.  It's all up to you.

I have a problem with acceptance, which keeps me stuck in bad situations for far too long.  Or, I make bad decisions based on how good they would be IF ONLY.  I plan things based on expectations that rarely come to fruition.  I just finished reading that Love Fraud book, and one of the clearest lessons the author imparts is to have no expectations.  If I can not be happy with things AS THEY ARE, I should not stick around waiting for the day that they will change.  Acceptance also does not mean putting up with something.  Like with N, I have finally reached acceptance of who he is and how he feels about me.  Does that mean I must deal with it?  Does acceptance mean I accept the unhappiness?  No, it only means that I accept that he is not faithful, not honest, selfish, and lacking compassion.  Instead of saying, "We could be so happy if only he would...if only we had...if only he didn't...if only he stopped...if only he started..." etc, I need to accept that he is who he is, and although things MAY change, you don't make life decisions based on unlikely possibilities.

The same concept applies to the adoption.  I struggled with it because I really WANT to raise this baby.  And I could do a good job, if only I had someone to help me.  If only I were in a relationship with two incomes.  If only I were more caught up financially.  If only I had planned ahead more.  If only he had stayed faithful and never hurt me and if my family liked him and if he weren't married and if we were living together and if I could trust him and IF IF IF IF!!!"  But I accept what is.  I made my decision based on that.  I can't make a castle with the blocks I have, so I'm going to just make something else instead of crying about it and giving up.  All we can do is all we can do,  right?

I can NOT believe I'm at the library today.  I must be flippin' crazy.  The snow is coming down hard, and sideways!  I need a good book to read, though.  This morning, my car was encased in a sheet of thick ice and I don't have a scraper.  Then, traffic was at a practical stand-still all the way  to work.  I was an hour and a half late!  If baby girl decides to be born today, her middle name will be Nieve.  Well, on the original birth certificate, that is.  Of course the adoptive parents have their own name picked out, but I can put whatever I want on the first birth certificate.  It will stay sealed until she is 18.  I haven't decided yet if I am going to put his last name on it or mine -- my other two kids have their fathers' last names, but  this situation is a bit different.  I'm far from traditional, but in a way I feel like I should.  I don't know if she would like that or not.  I guess it doesn't really matter either way though, does it?

I guess I should pick out a book and get my butt home!

40 Weeks

Yup, I'm still here.  I'm due next Saturday, but I'm hoping to have the baby before then.  I can't sleep anymore, I saw a new stretch mark, and this acid reflux is WICKED!  I wouldn't be surprised if my baby has a full head of hair.  I eat at least 15 Tums a day.  Actually, I got this really disgusting cheap off-brand from Family Dollar and I think they're defective.  They don't seem to do anything at all...why couldn't I have splurged and spent two extra dollars?  Oh well.

I have had a mind full of ideas and wanted desperately to post, but a few of the past nights I've been so crampy that I was sure I was about to go into labor any time.  Even though I didn't, it's still good that I didn't come to the library.  I wouldn't have been comfortable sitting in one of these chairs.

Sooooooooooo, I'm kind of talking to someone now.  :)  I don't really know why I put the smiley face.  For one, I'm not trying to rush right into a relationship.  I don't even want  to meet in person for a while.  Secondly, I talked to him on the phone the other night and something seems not quite right.  It could be that I'm just not ready to talk to anyone yet and no matter who it is, I would find something wrong with them because I need more time.  Still, though...he seems too persistent.  This is how it went down: I was on the dating site, mostly out of boredom.

I feel like I'm cut off from most of adult civilization.  The adults I DO socialize with are all coupled up, and while I'm in no hurry to become half of a couple (I am actually quite enjoying my singlehood -- I do what I want, when I want, and that suits me just fine.) I DO get kind of lonely sometimes.  I want SOME level of flirtatious companionship but for obvious reasons, I can't really start chatting guys up at a bar and then leave when I've satisfied my need for romantic stimulation.  It's like I'm a leper -- this huge pregnant belly is the best man-repellent there is.  Not that I'm complaining -- it's nice to have a break from stupid pick-up lines and insulting comments.  Okay, that came out wrong.  I'm not saying that in my pre-pregnancy days men were chasing me down at every corner and I had to beat them off with a stick.  It's just that I'm a private individual, socially awkward, not very comfortable talking to people until I am very comfortable with them.  So even if I was only approached a few times a week, it made me every uncomfortable and I'm glad that it's something I don't have to deal with right now.  I do have days that I think I look pretty good, but I think even on those days that a man wouldn't dare hit on a girl who is as obviously pregnant as myself for fear that the baby daddy is a few steps behind, prepared to beat his ass.  :)

Wow, this post is going a thousand directions at the same time...that's the beauty of ADD.  ANYway, I was on the dating site.  First, I was talking to one guy who was pretty decent looking.  He had a picture with his shirt off...a tattoo on his chest...we started talking.  Then, wait a second...is that a Latin King tattoo?  It sure is.  I decided not to go down that road.  I started talking to this other guy, a barber who lives in Holland.  He types in all caps, which is really annoying.  He complimented my hair and said it looked really healthy, which I guess is a good compliment when it comes from a barber.  I don't know.  Anyway, I gave him my number so he could text me.  TEXT me.  That night at about 11:30, I'm doing my usual tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable in bed.  My phone rings.  I answered it, I don't know why -- I always regret answering phone calls from numbers I don't recognize.  Anyway, it was him.  He had a lot of energy, talked really fast -- he was very friendly, but a little...MUCH.  At least there were no awkward silences, although I couldn't really get a word in edgewise.  I remember thinking, this guy is definitely a fire sign.  I'll have to check his profile when we're done talking.  (And I did, and he is -- an Aries, at that!)  I didn't really get the impression that he cared about anything I had to say, or even heard it.  Is that how people feel when they talk to me?  I think, when I was talking, he was just planning what he was going to say next.  It was a little overwhelming.  On top of all that, he started making plans right off the bat for where we can hang out.  He comes to the mall often, we can hang out there.  This is where we can go, this is what we can do.  These are the days we can do it.  Yeah!  That would be so perfect!  And you'll probably meet my sister, and my mom (WHAAAAAAT?).

My head was spinning.  Oh yeah, and he loves to brag about himself.  I know it's a sign of insecurity, but I couldn't care less about what type of clothes you wear or how much you spent on cologne or how many pairs of shoes you have.  I know that impresses some girls, but I was very bored with that whole line of conversation.  Do you really think material things are what I'm interested in?  I would have been much more impressed if he was bragging about the places he volunteers or the charities he donates to, something good-hearted and selfless.  Something that indicated the size of his soul, not the size of his wallet.

We ended the call, I was polite enough, and he left it open for me to call HIM.  He said, "Well, you have my number if you want to call me sometime."  Yup.  And I didn't.  That's a hint, right?  On Valentine's day, he messaged me and I messaged back.  Yesterday he messaged me "Miss ya voice" and I decided I would just tell him about being pregnant and he'd go running for the hills.  So I told him, and he's still interested.  I mean, don't get me wrong -- I know I made him sound really bad, and he's actually a very positive, upbeat, good-looking, friendly guy.  So what the hell is my problem???  Well, if he's so great, why is he so into me so soon?  It's almost like he's desperate.  Why would he be desperate unless something is wrong with him?  *sighhhhhhhhhhhhh*  I think I need a longer break from this shit.

Okay, so what else...I met with my doula the other night (Wednesday) after my OB appointment.  It was a very great meeting, she gave me some labor tea, gave the adoptive couple some information, and went over the birth plan.  It was a very good vibe, a very good feeling, and as we all discussed things my mind was very much put at ease that this is definitely the right decision.  They've been going to meetings and doing research and really WANT to do this the best possible way so she will grow up to be as happy, healthy, and well-adjusted as possible.  I know she'll be in great hands and it makes me feel so much more peaceful about everything.  They even went to a multi-cultural support group thingy to help prepare them for raising a child from another culture, even though she's only half Mexican.  They want to learn about the part of Mexico his family is from and Mexican culture in general so they can share that with her as she gets older.  I like that they want to keep her in touch with her roots.

It makes me sad that he had to mess things up so bad recently.  I wanted to have a picture with her, the three of us, so she could know what he looks like too.  And know that we both loved her and wanted the best for her.  I wanted him to be able to say goodbye at the hospital, like I will be able to.  But how can I give that opportunity to someone who just slashed my tires?  He's a dangerous man, there's no predicting how he might behave at the hospital.  But no matter how much of a douchebag he is, it makes me really sad because I know this will be hard for him too and I wish I could do something to make it easier.  I wish he hadn't made it impossible to include him in the process.  It is what it is, though.  I can only be responsible for me -- the way other people act is beyond my control.  He has his own lessons to learn and his own path to walk. 

The Empress

Oh my gosh, I hope I don't go into labor at the library.  Yeah, right.  I'm sure it's just wishful thinking...she's got 11 days left, and I'm betting she'll use every one of them and THEN some.  All the better to torture me with!  Truly, though, I AM having contractions -- I have learned by now, though, that it doesn't mean anything.  It's just Mother Nature's idea of a joke...maybe you're in labor...haha, just kidding!

I was thinking today about this weird craving I have.  I mean, food cravings are normal, and I've had those.  This pregnancy it has been pancakes, avocados, and Twizzlers.  I also have a very strange craving to smell hand sanitizer.

No, I'm not kidding.  Weird, huh???  I had a friend who said that when she was pregnant, she couldn't stop herself from smelling her husband's beer.  She didn't want  to drink it (nor do I want to drink hand sanitizer!) but she loved smelling it.  I didn't believe her, but now I do!  When I was doing my glucose test and the nurse went to draw blood, she wiped my arm first with the rubbing alcohol and that was my first indication of this.  I don't think it's harmful to smell hand sanitizer...is it?  I have heard of pregnant women developing a condition called pica, where they eat dirt and soap and other non-edible items.  I don't really know as much about smell cravings, though.  Odd.

Oh, man.  I'm in pain.  This baby is kicking my ass.  I can just see it, I'll have to drive myself to the hospital and rush to get admitted and they'll ask, "Why did you wait so long?" and I'll say, "I was blogging!"  Hahaha.

I have to admit that I have kind of lost my train of thought, though.  I can't really concentrate on blogging.  I guess I will check out my book and try again tomorrow.  Currently, I'm reading The End of Men and the Rise of Women.  I love it.  :)  It's all about how women have been gaining power over the past few years and men have been struggling to keep up.  There is a power shift going on and we definitely hold the advantage.  It's not just an opinion piece, either -- it's loaded with facts, research, and results of studies which confirm this assertion.  Ah, well, I always knew...but it sure is nice to see it in print.  Now I am going to check out Lovefraud -- How Marriage to a Sociopath Fulfilled My Spiritual Plan.  I'm not really obsessing, just trying to find tools to help me understand and recover.  Okay, well, I should probably get home.  Just in case.

The Sun

I have so much to say, and not nearly enough time or space to say it all!  My mind is racing.  I have slept only 3 or 4 hours a night for the past 5 nights or so.  I know that isn't an adequate amount of sleep for the body and mind to restore and function properly, so I'm a little worried about what the overall impact of this is going to have on me if it continues much longer.  Without enough sleep, people start acting weird.  However, in my life, this is just something that happens.  At least I know that it will eventually pass.

Speaking of crazy, I never realized before how warped my mind has become and how damaged I truly am.  I really do need to recover and heal, I have been affected in small little ways that I never predicted.  For example, the first night I spent in my new apartment, I got up in the middle of the night to get a blanket.  I grabbed my door keys from the table; they had not yet been attached to my key ring.  I used the keys to open a box and I THOUGHT I put them back on the table.  The next morning, though, I couldn't find them ANYWHERE.  I still haven't found them.  That morning, as I searched everywhere, I started to panic and worry that somehow he had gotten into the apartment and taken my keys.  Really?  If you can get into someone's apartment WITHOUT a key, then why would you bother taking them???  Then, I was running late for work so I put my phone in my pocket.  It fell out of the hole so I decided to put it in my purse.  A few minutes later, I had to call the leasing consultant to let her know I couldn't find my keys.  I reached in my purse for my phone...it was GONE!  I started crying and freaking out.  I thought maybe it was all a bad dream.  Eventually, I found my phone in my pocket.  I didn't even remember putting it  there -- in fact, I THOUGHT I remembered putting it in my purse.  It was a rough morning.

That's not all, though.  I have been talking to a couple of different guys on a dating site.  Any time I get a message from anyone, I analyze the speech (typing) patterns, spelling, most used phrases.  Is it him, pretending to be someone else?  I even wondered that about a couple of girls I was chatting with on another site.  I am always on guard, expecting him to be lurking in the shadows.  I'm not even sure what I'm scared of.  It's completely irrational, yet I feel that I never know what I can predict from him anymore.  When he slashed my tires, it awakened a new kind of fear within me.  What other boundaries would he cross?  How else might he harm and violate me?

But enough of that.  Yeah, I've got problems.  He's got problems.  We've all got problems.  However, we all have a lot to be grateful for still.  The more we recognize the good things we have, the more good things we will attract to us.  I can't dwell on the bad part.  I can't pretend there WASN'T a good part, either.  Was it worth the price?  I don't know.  I did experience true joy.  I fell in love with wild abandon.  I felt alive, I felt magical, I felt cherished.  So what if, to him, it was all a game?  Who cares if every nice thing he said and did was just to gain control?  What does it matter to me if everything I experienced was based on a lie?  I still felt them.  I was still happy.  As I try to move on from the pain of the betrayal and hurt, I also acknowledge that it wasn't all for nothing.  I may not have gained anywhere near what I lost, but I am not sorry that I loved just because the one I loved was incapable of loving me back.  Now that I know, though...well, why waste time loving a heartless shell when you can focus your energies on something real? 

On a completely unrelated topic, I had to get a new battery for my car today.  This is getting ridiculous!  New tires and tie rods last weekend, a new battery this weekend, a new starter a couple of months ago...what's next???  I got in my car last night to head to the sister circle and it wouldn't start at all.  I had to get a jump to make it to work today.  I swear sometimes, life is really trying to test me!!

Valentine's Day is coming up.  When I realized that today, I was a little bit depressed for a minute.  Then I decided there is every reason to be happier than ever -- I have two precious little children who would make better Valentines than ANY man (or woman) I can think of.  They deserve my attention this year.  I'm finally going to do it right and recognize the people who truly DO mean the world to me and will ALWAYS be there no matter what.  Besides, LAST Valentine's Day, I had a boyfriend, and it actually really fucking sucked.  Excuse my language.  First of all, he took me out the night before and made up some bullshit excuse why he couldn't spend the night.  The one night that it really would have been important, that I actually would have liked to snuggle and be happy.  He said he had to work early in the morning, which was a total lie.  I left my purse in his car and at 9 AM he asked me if I wanted him to bring it by.  At 9 AM?  I thought you had to be to work early?  I got my purse back and all of my money was gone.  He tried to blame his sister, but my ID was crinkled up.  I knew that whoever had gone through my purse had been angry.  I wondered, though, if he and his "baby mama" truly didn't have a relationship, why would she deface my ID?  But why would his sister do it?  He played dumb, of course.  He's really good at that.  That night -- VALENTINE'S DAY -- he made up some stupid asshole loser excuse why he couldn't come over.  It all fell into place when she showed up at my house looking for her husband a few days later.  Oh, yes.  That's when I should have left.

Anyway, I hope my Valentine's Day is better this year, and hers too.  He hasn't stopped trying to contact me and giving me his bullshit about how he misses me and loves me, blah blah blah, sing that song to someone who believes you.  Just because HE doesn't respect his marriage, though, doesn't mean I won't.  As much as I have been angry with her, confused by her, and frustrated with her...she completely humiliated herself by going with him to the police station like she did.  If she will do THAT, just to protect him -- if she will take him back, knowing what he's been up to -- well I'll be damned if I'm going to be the one to make her unhappy.  Oh, don't get me wrong.  Somebody will.  He can't keep it in his pants to save his life.  But it won't be ME.

Advice Unheeded

I'm copying and pasting an article which, sadly, I read within the first 2 weeks of this mess.  I am reminded of it now, as I struggle to let go, as a dependence stronger than any addiction I can imagine sinks it's evil claws into my soul.  I know why she never left.  I know, too, why I MUST.

http://psychopathyawareness.wordpress.com/2011/09/28/breaking-the-love-addiction-disengaging-from-the-psychopath/Several readers of this blog mentioned feeling addicted to the psychopath. Today I’d like to repost an article I wrote a year ago, when psychopathyawareness was just getting started and building a readership. Addiction–both physical and emotional–is the right term to describe the hold the psychopath has on his victims. After the relationship is over, many victims feel lost or empty without the psychopath. They need the excitement the psychopath brought into their lives: even if it indicated his emotional shallowness and need for entertainment rather than passion. They need the constant attention, even if they learn that it came from the psychopath’s desire to control them rather than love. How do you escape from these obsessive thoughts and need for the psychopath?

The psychopathic bond resembles any other kind of powerful addiction. Nobody and nothing can save an addict unless she’s willing to save herself. Others can only offer her emotional support, information and help. That’s what I do here.  Most books on romantic relationships tell readers what steps to take to get them or to improve them. By way of contrast, I tell you bluntly and in detail why and how to disengage for good. If there’s one kind of relationship that’s not worth saving, it’s one with a psychopath. You can’t change a psychopath. Therefore, you also can’t improve your relationship with him. Psychologists call psychopathy “pathological.” They state that psychopaths suffer from a severe “personality disorder,” not just normal human flaws that can be worked on and ameliorated. Sandra Brown underscores in How to spot a dangerous man before you get involved that “Pathology is forever.” (23) It’s the result of a faulty brain wiring, sometimes coupled with emotional trauma that occurs during childhood development, which can’t be altered in any significant way once the psychopath reaches adulthood.  Brown doesn’t mince words when she describes a psychopath as “an emotional predator” who represents “the pinnacle of poisonous and pathological dating choices.” (179) When involved with such an individual, she cautions, “You will never change his physiology or his bad wiring. You will never love him into safety, sanity, or sanctity.” (21)

Women involved with psychopaths have been conditioned by their partners to assume most of the blame for the problems that occur in the relationship. They’re often deeply in love. They hope that the psychopath will magically improve and grow to love them more meaningfully. Often, they seek therapy, counseling or support groups. They grasp at any straw that can help them salvage the refuse of a pathological relationship. As time goes on, they focus on the increasingly fewer positive aspects of the relationship. They cherish the memories of how well they were treated in the beginning. They go into denial so that they don’t have to face the deliberate malice of the person they love, to whom they may have devoted their entire lives. When faced with the vast discrepancy between the psychopath’s nice words and his malicious actions, they feel lost, disoriented and alone. They stubbornly cling to the psychopath and to the fantasy of romantic love he initially created.

After spending months or even years with a psychopathic partner, after building a family or dreaming of a bright future together, it’s very hard to accept the fact that everything good about the relationship was an illusion. It’s difficult to see that every one of his qualities, words and gestures were manipulative and fake, intended, as is everything a psychopath does, to get you under his spell and undermine your dignity and strength. It’s extremely painful to realize that the psychopathic partner has never cared about you, no matter how vehemently or how often he may have professed his devotion. It’s infuriating to realize that you’ve been duped and used for his selfish and destructive purposes. It’s frustrating to see that most other people, who aren’t well informed about psychopathy, won’t understand the degree of deception, brainwashing and betrayal you’ve gone through.

To give you an idea about how difficult it is for this highly abnormal experience to translate into a normal frame of reference, I’ll offer an example. When I watch episodes of the History Channel on Adolf Hitler, he looks to me, as he probably does to many other viewers who didn’t experience the mass indoctrination at the time, like a ridiculous looking madman, screaming and flailing his arms about. Quite honestly, I can’t see anything appealing, much less mesmerizing, about this man. In watching Hitler’s dramatic gestures and listening to his unappealing shouts, I find it hard to believe that he exercised such a powerful and destructive mind-control over an entire nation. But, clearly, he did. Not just over one nation, but over several. Those who have not fallen under a psychopath’s spell are not likely to identify with the experience or to comprehend it viscerally. They will remain sufficiently objective to find attachment to a psychopath puzzling, perhaps even incomprehensible. But such unhealthy attachments aren’t rational, to be examined from a distance, with hindsight and full information in one’s hands.  Psychopathic bonds are largely emotional in nature. They’re also based upon a steady flow of misinformation and powerful mind control.

Consequently, if you’ve experienced the psychopathic bond, not many people will understand what you’ve been through and what kind of disordered human being you’ve had to deal with. It may be upsetting to witness that even (most of) the media coverage of criminal psychopaths doesn’t grasp the nature of their personality disorder. Journalists often mistakenly attribute their crimes to more easily comprehensible and common motives (such as greed, sex, financial or emotional crises or substance abuse) rather than the psychological profile that makes these social predators so dangerous to others. It may be saddening to see that in therapy, if you fall upon someone unfamiliar with this personality disorder, you and your psychopathic partner are assumed to be equally at fault for the turmoil in your lives. Worst of all, it will be painful to face the truth that no amount of love or patience or therapy or medication or anything at all can save a psychopath and your relationship with him. He will always remain what he is: an irredeemably selfish, shallow and heartless human being. If you’ve been involved with a psychopath, this truth will hurt. But ultimately, as one of the contributors to lovefraud.com wisely stated, it will also help heal your pain and set you free.

People tend to say that, as far as problems in romantic relationships are concerned, there are two sides to every story. This assumption doesn’t apply at all to relationships with psychopaths. In those, one person deliberately damages the other. What remains true, however, is the related popular adage that it takes two to tango. A relationship with a psychopath represents a macabre dance that hurts only one partner, but that takes two partners to participate in and continue. If you’ve been involved with someone who exhibits psychopathic traits, you have the power to take back your life. You can choose to disengage from that disordered individual, learn from your mistakes and make far better choices in the future.

Wicked Games

This video...

39 Weeks

Yeahhhhhhhhhhhh buddy.  I'm getting close -- and I feel it!  The baby has dropped, and her head is uncomfortably lodged in my pelvis.  It hurts to walk.  My back hurts constantly, I can't stop throwing up.  Oh, the joys...

Today I am going to address the main issue that seems to be coming up in my life.  I hear what people are saying, I understand and agree with it.  But what can be done?  I've always been this way.  It's a part of my nature.  I understand why people believe me to be dishonest, although in fact I am quite the opposite.  It used to bother me -- why would people call me a liar, when I hardly ever lie?  Then I started thinking about some of the comments that people have made to me lately and I think I'm starting to get it.

I am a walking contradiction.  I am both extremes existing within the same body.  Some people are "bipolar" in that they swing from one extreme to another unpredictably -- hot, then cold.  Angry, then peaceful.  Suicidally sad, then deliriously happy.  How much more confusing it must be for people to understand ME, then -- scalding hot and freezing cold running in the same pipe.  It doesn't seem possible, yet here I am.  It's like I'm too people -- polar opposites -- sharing a mind and a body.  Someone may hear me say that I am against the death penalty, for example.  I may hear and agree with some very good reasons why it is immoral or wrong, and decide that I AM against the death penalty.  Within a matter of days -- maybe even hours, or minutes -- the same person may hear me say that I SUPPORT the death penalty.  Again, I am still telling the absolute truth.  I hear and agree with the reasons why it is necessary.  At any given time, there are numerous things that I am both FOR and AGAINST.

I believe in God, and I don't believe in God.  I believe in love, and I don't believe in love.  I reject gender roles, I understand and see the purpose of gender roles.  I am independent and very dependent.  I don't want everything I truly want, and vice versa.  I hate everything I love, and the other way around.  This is all well and good when it comes to religion and politics, maybe it makes me hard to get along with or hard to understand, but it doesn't cause any real damage.  The issue comes when this personality quirk enters into decisions regarding my own life.

N says I tell him one thing and I tell my family the other.  The detective gets one story from me and a completely different story from N.  What does this mean?  Both stories are true.  At any given time, most people in my life know one story or the other.  Sometimes I have one special person in my life who knows both sides -- that person WAS N, and before him it was my husband, and before him it was Shy.  Sometimes I share an intimate relationship with someone who NEVER gets both sides -- my first husband, my son's father, etc.  When I stop trusting you or lose faith in your ability to understand both sides of me, or when I fear that you will use my confidence in you against me, you no longer know both stories.  And that's where I am now -- a split person.  To my family I am one, to N I am another, but in reality I am BOTH.  I just know who will accept which part and keep the other part to myself.

This is getting complex.  Let me put it in simpler terms.  I told my family I want to place my baby for adoption, which is true.  I told N that I do not, which is also true.  I told the detective  that I did not want N in my life, which is true.  I told N (at times) that I DID want him in my life, which was also true.  However, sometimes I can recognize that just because one part of me wants something doesn't mean that it is right for me.  One part of me is like a little child -- unrealistic, idealistic, only seeing the positive, in need of a reality check.  She is the one who wants to keep the baby, basing that decision only on emotions.  The emotion of love and attachment for my offspring, the emotion of sadness I would have to face in parting with my own child.

One part of me thinks with her head, not her heart.  She bases her decisions on reality and wants what is best in a true sense, not a selfish sense.  The little child -- the Princess of Cups within me -- still loves N because she blocks out the pain and sadness, believes the lies he tells because she wants to believe in a happily ever after, and considers only the EMOTIONS -- the way he makes me feel when he's around, the comfort and security of "love", the hormones raging through my mind and body giving me a chemical high when he touches me -- ignoring all the indications that it is a pretense, a false love, a lie.  The mature one -- the Queen of Swords within me -- considers only the FACTS.  This is what he has done, this is what he is likely to do.  He has lied, he can not be trusted.  He has hurt you, he does not truly love you.  She is cold, hard, unforgiving.  She is the one who screams at him to go away, while the Princess of Cups is desperately clinging on as he does.

If I put the Princess of Cups, a lovestruck foolish adolescent, in charge of my life it will be destroyed in the name of "love".  It has happened before.  Time for the Queen of Swords to take over.  Reject the bullshit, slam the door in the faces of those who have burned their bridges.  Goodbye.

Three of Cups

Today was going to be the 9 of Swords, but as I looked through my posts, I noticed that most of the cards I use are swords.  Well, it has been an emotionally challenging time, so it doesn't surprise me.  However, I decided to focus on the positive instead of dwelling on the negative.  Instead, I chose the 3 of Cups.  It fits quite well, too, considering last night.

While I was at the library, I got a text from Juliea.  She must have sensed my distress or intuitively known that I just needed somebody, yesterday of all days.  She said we needed to get together soon to go over a birth plan and stuff, so I asked what she was doing later and we made an appointment for 8.  I was barely hanging on by a thread, which I'm sure was pretty clear.  I got to her office downtown, which is just the coziest, most welcoming, relaxing place ever.  The lights were dim, The Doors and Janis Joplin were playing quietly in the background, and we sat in a warm room with comfy pillows to chat.  She had her apprentice with her and we started talking about everything that was going on.  Once again, I was touched by how supportive she is, and the sister circle as a whole. 

She offered to help me with the little entrustment ceremony at the hospital, which I greatly appreciated.  She knows me well enough that I trust she'll design something totally fabulous.  I was going to do it myself, but inspiration eludes me lately and although I had an idea of how I wanted it to go, I was at a loss for exactly how to get there.  She said she is going to make me some labor tea which I can freeze and bring with me to the hospital.  She told me to call them when I am in labor and they will stay with me until about an hour after the birth.  She also suggested bringing an empowering picture to look at, and I thought of one taken one Christmas of my son and my daughter hugging.  It feels good to have some kind of a plan in the works, especially considering that I could go into labor at any time.  I am comforted to know that I will be ready.  Well...as ready as I CAN be.

She and her apprentice did some reiki/guided meditation/massage thing for me which helped me calm and center and release a lot of pain that I was carrying inside.  I honestly felt about fifty pounds lighter when they were finished.  It was almost as if it opened the floodgates, though -- I've been burying so much so deep that all these dark emotions have been pouring out of me since.  I can't contain my tears.  It's a healthy release, though -- I'm not feeling sorry for myself, or beating myself up, or dwelling on things in the past that I can't change.  I'm letting go, I'm acknowledging all the feelings, honoring them, and releasing them.  This is kind of a process and today was as hard as yesterday, but in a different way.  I know I'm on the healing path.  This part just really sucks.  Now that I see things as they really are, as they really WERE, and viewing everything through a different lens...well, it is taking some adjustment.  I have a new understanding, another puzzle piece to add clarity to the chaos that has been my life, and while everything makes more sense, the truth does hurt.  It's necessary, though.

I think the biggest thing I need to remember is not to feel the need to place blame.  Everyone made mistakes.  Everyone is lovable.  Nothing is all good or all bad, we are continually evolving and each choice makes up a part of who we are -- but regardless of the type of choices we have made in the past, we are always capable of making different ones.  I think it's a bad habit of mine to look at a situation and label one person the villain and the other the hero.  In life, it isn't like that.  That's why I rejected Christianity, in part -- there is truly no absolute good and absolute evil.  When a problem arises, everyone involved has made mistakes.  I have made mistakes, but that doesn't make this all my fault.  He made mistakes, but that doesn't make me blameless.  I also need to remember that when people lash out or hurt you, their actions come from a place of their own pain.  It doesn't mean anything about who you are, it says more about who THEY are and what they are going through.  To get angry at people for the way they cope with their problems only adds fuel to the fire.  If someone wants to hurt me because they are hurt, they are already suffering enough and there isn't any need for me to add to it.  I know who I am and what I'm about, and I don't need validation or acceptance from anyone.

ANYway, the Three of Cups is about sisterhood.  I told you it fit, right?  The support of fellow females, celebration.  Sure, it doesn't seem like there is ANYTHING to celebrate in my life right now, but I just need to put it in a different perspective.  The truth HAS set me free.  It does hurt, but I can still celebrate this new phase of my journey and look forward to the happiness that waits for me.

7 of Swords

The sword stealer.  Now it all makes sense.

I have had the worst day ever in history.  If it weren't for my children, I don't think I'd have the strength to stay afloat.  Sometimes you think about how you'd handle a certain situation, and you tell yourself you just wouldn't be strong enough.  Well guess what -- sometimes you have no choice.  Sometimes the things that you imagine would destroy you DON'T -- because, after all, what option do you have?  You have to keep smiling through the pain. You have to keep fighting despite the wounds.  You have to keep standing, falling, and getting back up until your very last breath.  They say life doesn't give you more than you can handle -- lately I'm thinking someone gave me way too much credit, because I surely couldn't handle much more.  Somehow, I am still surviving.

I woke up this morning and couldn't stop throwing up.  I thought maybe something was wrong with the baby and I went to the ER.  They did some labs and everything came back fine.  I believe it's psychosomatic -- my body is having a physical reaction to all the stress that has hit me like a ton of bricks.  I am defeated.  I am humiliated.  I am broken.  My body is rebelling.

While I was at the ER, I had a nice chat with the detective.  I was honest about everything, because supposedly the truth will set you free.  Right?  Well, I learned some very devastating and shameful things.  I look so stupid.  The joke is totally on me. 

I don't care what anyone else thinks, the honest to god swear on the lives of my children cross my heart and hope to die truth is, when I was with him, I thought I was the only one.  Why would I settle for being the "other woman"?  Why would I knowingly stay in a relationship with someone if I had to share him?  After all, how many times did he tell me if he ever caught me with another man, there would be hell to pay?  It didn't matter, because there WERE no other men.  Apparently, everyone knew but me that I WAS the other woman.  Now, his sister had posted something about how "if you're the side bitch, you have no business asking the front bitch any questions, if you're the other bitch, you have no business catching main bitch emotions..." blah blah blah.  I know it was directed at me, and I wanted to say something to her but I don't want any more conflict, any more fighting, any more negativity.  I don't owe anyone an explanation.  The truth, as stupid as it makes me look, is that I THOUGHT I was the ONLY "bitch".  Why?  Because he let me believe that!  So, if you think you ARE the only woman, of course you're going to expect to be treated that way!  Of course you're going to catch all the emotions that come along with the role that you think you are playing.  If, in the end, it turns out that you were just a woman on the side...how can anyone blame you for acting as if you weren't?  She may be okay with sharing, but I don't think ANY man is special enough to be worth having even if he can't be all mine.  She may have known the whole time and been okay with it, but if I had known the truth, it wouldn't have been good enough for me.  It wouldn't have been an arrangement I would have agreed with.  In order for you to expect someone to accept certain circumstances, you have to be honest with them about what the circumstances really ARE. 

Okay but intuitively, I knew this.  I kept trying to get him to admit it, but he stubbornly refused.  Every time I would do a tarot reading, the 7 of swords would appear -- the sword stealer.  It indicates that someone is getting over on you, pulling the wool over your eyes, betraying you behind your back.  Concealing the truth.  Stealing your trust.  I had a feeling that this is what it meant, but he always had some lame explanation for why that card would show up.  Many times, he tried to turn it around on ME, implying that I was betraying HIM.  What I don't get is, how could he expect my complete devotion when he could not give me his?  How could he have had the nerve to threaten to break my jaw if I ever had another man when he had another woman the whole time?  How can you expect something from someone that you can't give?

When he was still living with her, I really thought nothing was going on between them.  Apparently, they have told the detective that the THREE of us were together.  What???  It was my understanding that they lived in the same house, but their relationship was over, and he was with me.  Why would I think that?  Well, because he told me so.  I know, I know -- if he told me to jump off a bridge...

Well, I probably would have.  I have paid the ultimate price for my stupidity.  I am ashamed and wounded.  Everything I thought we had, when I thought things were good -- it was ALL an illusion.  It was NEVER good.  The happiness I thought I had was based on a big lie.  The relationship I cherished at one time never really existed at all, except in my mind.

I can't begin to fathom why she would accept that from him.  Why that would be okay with her.  What has he done that was so great that he deserves her devotion even after doing whatever -- and WHOever -- he wants?  He's not that special.  She's not ugly, it's not like she HAS to be so desperate as to settle for someone who refuses to commit.  She deserves fidelity as much as anyone.  And so do I!  Why didn't anyone tell me???  She might be perfectly content having a relationship with someone who will never belong to her, but didn't she ever consider that I might want something more?  Why did everyone let me sit there and look like a total fool?  She can't have been happy about it.  I saw her pain and sadness.  I know she didn't like it that he was with me.  I may not have realized that he was ALSO with her, but even if that was the case -- if you're so unhappy, WHY? 

I do believe in karma.  And although I can say that I'm not responsible because I didn't know, and who can blame me for believing what he told me, a part of me DID know.  I should never have been a party to hurting another human being -- another woman -- the way that I did.  Now I know that if it hadn't been me, it would have been somebody else.  But it WAS me.  Yes, he was responsible for his actions.  He was the one breaking his vows.  But I should have respected my fellow female and refused to allow him to be in my life unless he was divorced.  I should have never crossed the boundaries of a married relationship based on his word alone.  I should have stood my ground, no matter WHAT he told me, and refused to be intimate in any way with someone who already had a commitment to someone else.  And I believe that this is a big part of why I suffer now.  I didn't know he was married at first, and I can't be blamed for what I legitimately didn't know.  But once I found out, the responsibility became mine to do the right thing and I failed.  Now I pay.

The detective asked me if I want him to go to prison for what he did.  Prison???  What?  Through my tears of sorrow and shame, I told him that I don't want to hurt N, get revenge, or get back at him.  All I want is for him to leave me alone.  I don't want to punish him for what he did, I just want him out of my life.  Especially knowing what I know now -- if your wife is sticking by your side after all this, you surely don't deserve her.  And you should realize that you're a lucky son of a bitch who should treat her like gold.  I'm not saying a woman SHOULD put up with this, or that she should be commended for doing so.  I'm not saying it makes her look smart, or that she has any self-respect.  BUT, if she chooses for some hare-brained reason to be your doormat, you should at least try to be decent to her! 

He needs to focus on his family, and I need to wait for the one who will bring my happiness.  This pain is so great, but it's better to know now than never at all.  Everybody can laugh now.  The past year of my life has been a big fucking joke.  Ha, ha.

38 Weeks!!!

Wow, so much has happened in six weeks.  I feel like I've been through hell and back -- but here I am, STILL STANDING!!  Not only standing, but smiling.  The past few weeks have brought trials, tears, fear, and heartache.  I have been tested and failed.  I have believed and been let down.  I have put my trust in the wrong people and situations.  However, at the end of it all, I can confidently say that I am better than I ever was before.

I think it would be easiest to start with where I AM, then go backwards and explain the events that have led up to it.  Tomorrow, I am moving.  Today, I had to replace all four tires because some psychotic maniac slashed them all.  I guess we'll start with that, because that's the running theme throughout this blog.

So, over the past six weeks I went from deciding I would never speak to N again to letting him wear me down so I began to give in to renewing my conviction to keep him out of my life and encountering his wrath as a result.  Allow me to explain.

I didn't want him in my life.  I knew that all he would bring would be pain and lies, and any involvement with him was a waste of time.  After all, I moved for a reason.  I wanted to dedicate myself to my children and leave him in my dust.  I stood firm...but then he began breaking into my apartment.  I say breaking in, but he must have made a key or found some instrument to put into the lock, because I would hear it on the occasions that he would do this while I was sitting right in the living room.  Sometimes, I would come home from work and he would be waiting -- sometimes hiding, sometimes not.  Other times, I would be relaxing or trying to sleep in my living room, and in he would come.  Of course, I loved him with all I had at one time.  I was intimate with him, familiar with him.  So although this behavior was totally crazy and unacceptable, it was hard not to gloss over it as if it were completely normal that he was in my apartment uninvited, refusing to leave.

I tried to fight back at first, and I was repaid for it by having my hair pulled, being slapped, thrown/pushed around, even spit on at one point in time.  It was useless -- I couldn't make him leave no matter what I did, and the harder I tried, the worse it would be for me.  I felt like a prisoner.  Why didn't I call the cops?  Well, when he followed me to my apartment and I tried to call the cops later  that evening, all they did was give me attitude about waiting so long.  I was emotional and fragile and couldn't deal with it, I felt like they didn't want to help me.  I remembered the two times I tried to press charges for domestic assault when he had choked me, and how nothing was done because I had no proof.  If I tried making a phone call while he was in my apartment, he would take my phone.  After he left, I felt like there would be no point, since I couldn't prove anything.  Eventually, I just came to resentfully endure his presence.

Then, I think something like Stockholm Syndrome set in.  He was unwelcome, he forced and bullied his way back into my life, I was hanging out with him because I felt like I had no other choice -- but at some point, my delusional little mind started to think I was falling in love with him again.  He almost got me.  I was thinking I could keep the baby, we'd raise her together and be one happy family, and everything was going to be perfect.  Things happened, though, and he couldn't keep his act up forever.  Eventually, his true colors showed through and the spell was broken.  I remembered why I had fled from him to begin with.  I thought of all that I had gone through to get away from him, and told myself I'd be damned if I ever settled for that misery again in my life.  I was a fool to let him suck me in, even for a second, because I know what he is and what he's about and it will NEVER be good enough for me.

He showed up last Sunday, just when I was getting ready for the sister circle.  He wouldn't leave and I got very upset.  When he went to go to the bathroom, I grabbed my phone from under the cushion and tried texting my daughter's dad to come over.  I thought maybe he could help me get the point across to N.  Well, N came out of the bathroom and I was holding my phone.  He got mad, grabbed it, threw me down, and hit me in the face with my phone.  Not hard -- it was really just a light tap on the cheek, but I was scared.  He proceeded to go through my phone and read my texts, then started to post as me on my Facebook that I didn't want to give my baby up.  My texts were talking about how he had broken in and I wanted to get rid of him.

He told me I was "fake" because I acted like everything was cool when he was around, but behind his back, I talked shit.  Just because I don't make waves when you BREAK INTO MY APARTMENT and try to make the best of the situation does NOT mean you were welcome  to begin with.  If you were, you could have knocked, and I would have opened the door.  The fact that you had to force your way in should tell you that I wanted you to keep out.  Granted, I admit that I handled the situation badly.  I should have called the cops.  If I had known then what I know now, I most definitely would have.  I guess I just didn't want to face things and hoped he'd eventually go away.

Then, Wednesday morning, I went to leave for work and he was standing outside of my apartment in a ski mask!  Granted, I'm sure he thought that this was just a fantasy/role play type of situation, which maybe IF WE WERE TOGETHER, it may have been.  But having just told him Sunday night to leave or I would have to take time off from work to get a PPO, and him promising I'd never see him again, this intrusion on Wednesday was most unwelcome.  I was going to be late for work and he wouldn't leave.  He made me promise I'd let him see me that night, and of course I agreed so I could leave.  I had my daughter's dad wait with me that night in the apartment in case he showed up, but he never did.  I thought I had a few days before he'd pull any more stupid shit.  I was wrong.

The next morning, he did the SAME THING -- I think he planned on trying to have sex with me, but he was working with a limp noodle and gave up.  He kept pulling my pants down and I kept pulling them back up, yelling at him to leave.  Finally he gave up on THAT and asked me what I was going to do with the baby.  I pointed at his face, in the ski mask.  I said, "Look at you!  Do you think THAT is what I want for a father for my baby???"  Then he started to threaten to help my ex get custody of my son.  That was the final straw for me.

Hurt me all you want, I probably won't do anything.  I DIDN'T, did I?  Never got a PPO, never even called the cops.  But when you prove that you would try to make an innocent child suffer -- a child who LOVED you, despite the fact that you NEVER deserved it -- just because you aren't getting your way, you are officially a monster in my eyes.  I know I'm not a perfect parent, but my son and I have such a precious bond.  He loves no one like he loves me, and I'd lay down my life for him.  I have fought for him since day one and always been in his corner.  His father, on the other hand, has choked him, broken MY nose, neglected him, broken numerous promises to come see him, broken his little heart, let him down.  His wife has a substantiated child abuse claim against my son for shoving a blanket in his mouth when he was crying so that he couldn't breathe.  It breaks my heart, and it infuriates me that someone could be so vile as to have NO regard for this little boy that he would be willing to put him back in that situation.  I know I've made mistakes as a mother, but I would NEVER hurt my son or allow anyone else to do that.  That's why I spent $3,000 and battled in court to get full custody after I heard about the blanket incident -- to protect my son.  Anyone that threatens his well-being is officially my enemy.

He left, I called the police.  I had warned him time and time again that I would call the cops, and I guess he didn't believe me.  But this was the LAST STRAW.  They came and took my report, I went down to the YWCA, and they agreed to move me.  This was Thursday.  Friday night, I was staying at my daughter's dad's house and I woke up in the morning to find all of my tires slashed.  I never thought he'd do anything like that, either.  He was full of surprises.  Somehow, I always believed that deep inside, he was a decent person.  That he had limits, that there were some things he cared enough not to do.  I judged him by my own standards -- I'd never wish harm on his children, or destroy his personal property just because I was angry.  But I guess he isn't like me after all.  He really IS heartless.  That really made me sad, too.  I always looked at him and saw the innocent little boy that he once was, and loved him as if he were still that little boy.  I always thought his inner child was still there, just needing to be loved, needed to be understood.  I thought I could be the one to heal his pain and slay his demons.  I thought I could fix him.

I was wrong -- he was destroyed long ago.