teenmommie's Diaryland Diary
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Dear God,
Please stop with the practical jokes. It's not funny anymore.
I keep feeling like all that I want is always just out of reach. And then I tell myself that maybe it's just because I don't really know what I want.
Whatever the case, it isn't very nice to keep feeling like I'm almost there, but will never get to it.
Please, please just stop.
x
9:40 p.m. - Saturday, Sept. 19, 2009
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waiting for another day
Okay, so now that it's over and I can breathe easier, this is my latest update:
I mentioned the possibility of news didn't I? Well, I had a terrific pregnancy scare a couple of weeks ago. Of course I had to hold on and wait it out before I could test myself. And I have, three times in total, and it's a no.
So, in other words, no news there.
Let me start from the beginning so that you don't think I'm a reckless whore who hasn't learnt her lesson okay?
I went off the pill because we've both been too busy to see each other, much less cuddle up for hours on end. It felt awfully silly of me to be taking the pill every single day and well, simply put, not gettin' any.
So well, we went back onto rubbers, as and when. The last time, I'd been hooked onto these online calculators and I was pretty sure I was safe. Of course, as life would have it, I was dead wrong. It wasn't just a "high-chance-window-of-time" thing, it was right on the dot.
I realized a day or so after and went down to get the morning after. Before which, I'd just been reading up and had stopped at the point which claimed the pill to be an abortion pill (I was at numerous sites which had links to more sites and they were all saying the same thing).
Obviously, I freaked out at the last minute and went home. Feeling stupid, I did more research and found all the answers to those claims.
There are always two takes of course, and the anti-abortion website was adamant on saying that life began at conception and technically speaking, by using the morning pill, you would already be killing life.
Whatever the case, (and I still don't know which side I'm on), the doctor claimed it was too late to give me the pill. Even though it'd only been about 72hours and these days, you've got a five day window.
I think at that point I gave up and left up to God actually. I felt, if it was supposed to happen, then it would. I guess I didn't feel like I wanted to have a hand in it because, I did that last time and look where that got me!
So I sat through about a week and a half, practically shitting in my pants but not having anyone to talk to.
I had come to the point that I knew having one now wouldn't right my wrong. At the same time I was kind of excited, to be honest. Being me, I spent more time oggling at things in Mothercare and whathaveyou.
I wrote a lot, smiled a lot and was basically, pretty sure that I ought to start prepping for a kid.
When I took the test the first time, I was overwhelmed by disbelief. I kept staring at the thing, practically willing the second line to appear. Which of course, it didn't.
It took me ages to start thinking that, well, maybe it just wasn't my time yet.
Then I took a second one when I missed my period and it was a tad bit easier to swallow. Five days after that I took a third test, just to be sure.
And well, if they're all saying the same damn thing, I can't exactly embark on a rampage around Babies R Us can I?
So I've gathered (rather late, I'd say) that sometimes you think you're ready, when you're not. And sometimes you don't think you're ready but maybe you are.
I think a huge part of me is sad that I didn't test positive. At the same time, I know it just means more time to work at having my kids in an infinitely more stable environment.
And finally, I've a feeling that I had this scare for a reason. It's the eighth of September today. And if I hadn't been worrying about whether or not my little one was on the way, then I'd be digging a hole for myself to sit in today and mope.
I didn't get the chance to build up on sad thoughts and cry, just looking at kiddy shoes. So I suppose, it was a kind of blessing in disguise.
It's a quiet day today. And I think I need to enjoy it a bit. It's the hols, so no work but I do have errands to run. I find it difficult, you know, to not think of what I'd be doing if August were here with me.
But I'm done hating myself already. The blues are addictive, and I don't think we ought to indulge in defeatism and what have you so often.
I've got that sad song on repeat and my eyes are watering up again, just a wee bit.
It's a nice, quiet day to remember, but it's also a good day to take a deep breathe of fresh air.
10:13 a.m. - Tuesday, Sept. 08, 2009
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balloons, like love, burst.
I'm drawing closer to the anniversary of the day I gave August up. It sounds wrong, somehow, to use the word anniversary. I think the word anniversary sounds too much like a cause for celebration.
I'm better.
He's right here, in my heart.
I've come a bit of a way, and I figure, I had to go through deciding to give him up, giving him up and recovering from it. If I could go back and do it all over again, my decision might be different, if I could keep the knowledge if the year that's just passed.
But for the most part, it's comforting knowing that, even if my excuses and reasons fell flat in the end, at that point in time I know I was only trying to do what was best.
I've also come to accept that, having another will never right my wrong. But when it comes, when my time comes, whether a week from now, five years or ten, it will be right and I will know to love more.
And at the end of it all, I will be okay. Or close enough(:
10:18 p.m. - Monday, Aug. 31, 2009
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slipping into the cracks in your heart
On my way to the office today, I stopped by the hospital and popped into the baby ward. I just stared at the newborns from behind that glass window and I couldn't figure whether to smile or cry.
"Yeah, she's my niece." I said to the guy who asked. He just became a daddy.
I don't know what I expected to get out of my visit.
But I don't think it's the last time I'll be going.
10:25 p.m. - Saturday, Jun. 27, 2009
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You're everywhere.
In the red of the falling leaves,
in the streams of sunlight slipping through dusty venetian blinds.
During sunsets, just like your daddy.
Everyday I miss you, and everyday I wish that you were here with me.
But every second turn I make, you're right there. And you still make me smile August, just like you used to when you were inside me.
I love you so, so incredibly much.
7:29 p.m. - Friday, Jun. 26, 2009
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Love After Love
Love After Love
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Derek Walcott
11:43 p.m. - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009
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The last day of the month
It's the last day of the month.
The last day of a month that I didn't think I'd be able to live through.
Last day of the month that I would've been a mother.
Last day of the month that's had me wishing I was and wondering about all my What Ifs.
I must say, it is nice to breathe again.
It is nice to know, to believe that all's not lost. That you can still carry on and not feel like you're forgetting.
I won't forget. I can't.
It's nice to finally admit to myself that as much as I want to, if I went back in time, I might not have changed my mind. But if history repeated itself, I'm not going to give in to everything that I should be.
It's nice to know that sometimes I can still cry, and I can still miss my baby boy. And I can watch little kids and wish they were mine.
At the same time, to know that I'm not evil for doing what I did, that my final decision was not selfish.
Things could have been a million miles off from they way they are now, i know.
But hating myself isn't bringing August back to me.
My time will come and I won't be shackled to my regret and lack of second chances.
If August was here right now, I would have loved him with all my heart. His daddy would've too, for sure. And I love him now, even though he's not with me. You could believe it, or you can laugh at me. But I know how I feel for sure, and that matters to me.
Knowing that, at the end of the day, i did love him. I did want to keep him with all my heart.
I did a bad thing, an incredibly wrong thing, giving him up. But I couldn't have thought it out more or reasoned more. Based on the (limited) information I had at the time, I made a decision. And at the very least, I can say that the decision was made for him.
From here, it's going to get better.
I'm going to falter sometimes. I will cry and hate myself all over again. I will curl myself up into a ball and hate the world for not knowing what I did to keep it from tipping over.
But I can pick myself up again.
I can hold on to the dreams I still have of him and with him. I can look out and know, that I'm going to get a second chance.
It is, the last day of the month.
9:25 p.m. - Sunday, May. 31, 2009
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So I decided, after my last post, that before I threw myself off a building, I'd really like to talk to him.
And I did.
And I wonder why I ever thought he'd never understand.
(:
9:27 p.m. - Wednesday, May. 27, 2009
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promises
I can't find the strength to do anything. I've been working, really I have. My blog has streams of what seem to be one/two-liners. Musings or strains of thought that I cannot explain in full detail and no one would care for, even if I did.
It's sad, that everytime I happen to hit that rocky place. That place which has me reliving, crying and ultimately, drowning in regret, I have absolutely no one to turn to. Mostly for fear of sounding like a train-wreck that will never right itself, but also because the one person I might tell, I can't.
I don't know. It's not something you bring up over coffee, but it should come easy enough. After all, I do tell him everything.
But see, as it happens, whenever I'm feeling horribly down like this, I don't feel like I'd like to pull him down with me. And anyway, recently, his down-spells have seemed to coincide with mine. So what's the point in making him feel worse when he's bogged down by half a million things?
It's bad for me, I think.
That I want him to tell me stuff if he ever needs to, but I can't tell him stuff at the same time. I'm not actively hiding things, I'll have you know. I just. God I don't know.
I feel so incredibly alone, you know.
I really really do. I can't find anyone who might understand what I'm going through. It's not just all that pain and loss and regret.
Sometimes it's just that I find myself thinking of my could-have-beens. Which hardly ever is a good thing.
Sometimes I want to fit myself against him and cry for a bit and have him understand, just a little bit.
But it never ever comes out the way we hope, does it?
11:19 p.m. - Sunday, May. 24, 2009
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You, in letters and a picture that isn't really.
I believe in doing what you want to do.
And it's tougher than it sounds.
Why tell yourself not to go for a swim because you have to do work? You'll be thinking about swimming the whole time anyway.
Why take a job in a bank (even though it pays you three times more), when all you really want to do is sing in a bar?
Most of us, we pick the benefits, the "this is good for us in the long run" choice. What we fail to realize, is that doing what you want to do, keeps you from looking and wondering. It keeps you focused, undistracted.
It makes you happy.
Because if you really really want to sing in a bar, it's going to be alright that you only earn a thousand five a month. You WILL make it work, because you want to. Just because you want to.
If you have school loans to pay off, or a new family to support, you'll work two jobs to sort that out. If singing in a bar means that much to you.
Most would say, "But isn't it obvious, to take the higher paying job?"
Not if every single day, you wake up wishing you'd get hit by a car just so you don't have to go to work. Not if everyday you come back home and want to bury yourself in the back garden.
Not if you don't want to do it.
Well, for someone who believes so strongly in doing whatever you want to do, I certainly didn't practice what I preached.
Everyday, I make the active decision to do what I want to do.
Do I really want to smoke right now, or am I just doing it because there's nothing else to do?
Do I really want to go out, if I can spend more time at home with my kitten?
Just now, I realized that from the very beginning, I had wanted more than anything in the world, to keep my baby boy.
It occurred to me and I went back to my archives to double check that.
It took me ages to put the mere thought of abortion into words. But from the very first post, from the moment I tested positive on that pregnancy test, I had wanted to keep my baby.
And I repeated that, didn't I?
I weighed out pros and cons, right here, on this blog. I talked about rights and wrongs and what I could or couldn't give him. And in my third post I actually said, that despite how the pros and cons weigh out,
I didn't want to give him up.
So why did I?
Realization is a painful thing.
Besides this, I also found out that my own mom drank about as much as I did when she was six weeks pregnant with me. More in fact. And no, I didn't drink that much. I was one of three people sharing a bottle of wine.
Why didn't I think about asking her these things? I don't know, I was too preoccupied with her reaction, clearly. In the time before and even after giving August up, I'd asked her what she'd say if I told her I was pregnant.
But I've always been one for hypothetical questions and she didn't quite take me seriously.
Talking about it now, i realize how stupid and incredibly selfish it was, that I was more preoccupied with finding out the reaction I'd be facing from her, as opposed to whether or not my baby might actually be okay even though I'd had a couple glasses of wine.
I had done my research though.
Streams of websites have talked about how "even the smallest drop of alcohol can damage a baby's brain."
Which my mother, a trained and certified nurse, says is not true. Of course, if you're a hard-core alkie, downing kegs by the day, you can expect a baby with a damaged brain.
But websites, she pointed out, and all other sources of information for that matter, aren't going to let you risk it, are they? So they just say that the smallest drop of alcohol is detrimental to a fetus.
It infuriates me, that I now feel like I based my decision on nothing.
And I did.
Everytime I come here, crying, typing, moping, I tell myself that at the end of the day, no matter how much I want him now, that I gave him up because I was thinking about him. That I was horrible, drinking and smoking like that, but that in the end, it was him who would suffer possible brain damage or learning disabilities or alcoholism.
And none of that's true.
None of it at all.
How in the world am I supposed to deal with this now?
It's May. It's the month he was due.
I'm realizing more and more, what a mistake this was. And then, the one thing that I had to keep myself sane, my reason for giving him up,
it turns out to be null and void.
Absolute nothing.
I used to say that I'd keep the baby, no matter what the dad thought. It wasn't a discussion, it would be me saying, "I'm having this kid, are you in or out?" and leave it at that.
But as it turns out, I didn't do that.
I'm not putting any blame on August's dad whatsoever. Please don't think that. He left the decision solely up to me and I just wish that I'd stuck with that.
I never wanted this.
I never wanted to give my baby up, I swear to God.
Yes, I thought about it. Yes, I admitted how much easier it would be.
But I never wanted to do it.
And now, this is all I'm left with.
9:24 p.m. - Saturday, May. 23, 2009
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I'm still here
sometimes I think, if I wish hard enough,
I'll be able to undo what I've done.
sometimes I think it's a nightmare that I'll wake up from.
That I'll still get to say,
"No, I can't give him up"
Sometimes I think he's here, and I'm not me and I didn't do what I did.
A lot of the time, I think I'm better, when I'm not. I think, he's here, but he isn't.
And all I'm left with is this huge frustration and getting to hold babies who don't belong to me.
be here, baby. be here
10:07 p.m. - Sunday, May. 10, 2009
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i wish what was happening right now wasn't happening. And i wish it was okay to cry and bawl my eyes out.
I haven't seemed to be able to do anything right since I gave you up.
8:19 p.m. - Wednesday, May. 06, 2009
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But there's no snow this winter
You should've been here this month.
Everyday, I wish you were.
8:14 p.m. - Wednesday, May. 06, 2009
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For the first time ever, I'm grateful that you're not here.
Because I wouldn't want you to see me like this.
But then, I might've been stronger.
God, I wish I was with you right now August.
3:57 p.m. - Monday, May. 04, 2009
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zombie
I wrote about this.
About you, about me.
It took so much out of me that I feel like I'm crumbling and falling to pieces.
And God, I don't want to. But I am.
Called your daddy right after I wrote it. And I was just crying, but I couldn't like, do anything about it. I'd be embarrassed if he read it. Feel like I'm so incredibly stupid for still thinking and feeling all these things.
I can't talk baby.
I can't.
I'm just left with all this nothingness that it frustrates me. I would talk, if I could. But it doesn't feel like I can. There's no one here. There's just no one here and oh, I want to get away.
I want to be with you.
I want to be with you so, so much.
Maybe, you know,
we could've been two lonely people, together.
I don't want to be like this.
Oh God. Please please no, not again.
I don't want to be like this, but I am. I'm so ripped up inside and everything hurts.
It's a new weekend. Last weekend seems like months ago. It really does.
It's never failed to amaze me, what can happen within the span of a week.
Last week, at this exact time, I was excited and jittery and rushing off to bed in anticipation of the coming weekend.
Now.
Now I'm drained, my eyes are swollen and nothing feels okay.
I want it to be okay though.
We could've been, you know, two lonely people, together.
12:06 a.m. - Saturday, May. 02, 2009
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you were all I had left to live for.
Maybe that's why
11:45 p.m. - Wednesday, Apr. 22, 2009
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Yes I know.
I need to stop taunting myself with all these pictures of what I could have had. I know it doesn't help anything and all I end up with is feeling terribly envious.
So this needs to stop and I just can't keep going on, reading and wishing and wondering.
It's not doing anyone any good.
3:22 p.m. - Saturday, Apr. 18, 2009
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It's still not alright
So it was sort of funny, but a little bit sad. It's very hard to explain the immediate month that follows after you've said goodbye.
Most people would just say,
"God, you were freaking hormonal."
And maybe that counts for a lot of the tears, for a lot of the angst and frustration. But it doesn't explain how I can still feel that way now and then, even now.
I figure, right, that what you already feel is just made worse during that one month. But I don't think you can put it solely down to hormones.
Anyway, I've been reading the blogs of too many young mommies. Most of them in Singapore (because the first link I got was from a Singaporean).
Most of them are sixteen, seventeen? A handful of them are eighteen - twenty. But what surprised me is how most of them are married to the father of their babies.
I mean, I would be insanely freaked out at thinking I was getting married for the wrong reasons!
But then, they look happy. They talk about how stressful it is, how horribly difficult and how so few would understand.
And all I'm left with, at the end of my three-hour blog-hop, is "why couldn't I have done that?"
Jodi Picoult, one of my favourite authors, she wrote this in her recent book.
Charlotte O'keefe, a mother of a girl with OI (brittle bones) was asked what it'd be like if she'd given up her daughter.
And Charlotte said that even if her daughter hadn't been born, she'd still be looking for her. In the bowling allies, the supermarkets, the playgrounds. She'd be looking into the faces of all those other children, wondering where hers is.
It meant something to me, that bit. Because I realize that that's exactly what I do all the time too.
Besides the fact that Charlotte O'keefe is a fictional character, she had her baby.
Sometimes it feels that little bit worse, because when I'm looking at all the faces of the children who aren't August, I realize over and over and over again, that no matter how hard I look, I'm never going to find him. He's never going to pop out from behind a clothes rack and laugh at me for being all frantic.
I'm never going to hold him and feel that tidal wave of relief wash over me, and know that everything's alright.
Because no, it's not really alright.
12:07 p.m. - Saturday, Apr. 11, 2009
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someday your heart will just let him go
outside it's raining but I'll just go home.
someday your heart will just let him go.
soon as you get that feeling you can start to live again.
Soon as the worst is over you can make it all make sense.
Right now I, can't give you what you need.
Soon as you get that feeling,
Run to Me
One of those days again, I'm afraid.
Just one of those days.
It's a lie, what they all said.
It doesn't ever stop hurting. Some days are better than others. Others, you can smile that he's not caught up in the bullshit that makes up a tiny fraction of your life. But a lot of the time, you wonder why you couldn't do it.
I woke up today and reached for the separate journal I keep for days like this. I read the last letter I wrote to August and teared up a little bit.
I've gotten myself a kitten. She's growing awfully fast though. Her name's Buttons.
Everytime that she catches hold of some tiny thing I have lying around, I wonder why i haven't tidied up my room more for her.
I wasn't prepared for her either, I just picked her up one day.
But I'm so in love with her. So incredibly in love with her that I cry just thinking about letting her off into the streets.
And then I start wondering if I loved August any less.
okay, a cat, a kid, there's hardly a link. But late nights can do that to you and crying too much of course.
I want it to be okay soon.
I want to be able to get it right, the second time around.
It'd be impossible if I couldn't.
11:17 a.m. - Wednesday, Mar. 11, 2009
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just for you,
I got it done(:
9:53 p.m. - Wednesday, Feb. 04, 2009
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dusty, but not crumbling
So here's an undated something that I dug up:
Here.
I've found myself in this place
of sunsets that I
can almost touch.
Faith.
Is this what my hope is
holding on tight to
Will I,
be able to breathe?
Because my heart left with August
and I'm left wishing for
time machines I don't know how to use
freedom, for a choice I cannot choose,
And August and his smile.
1:30 a.m. - Sunday, Feb. 01, 2009
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It's maddening that it's too late
Darling August,
I wish you were here with me. If you were, it wouldn't be long now til I get to see you, hold you.
Maybe I'm just being silly, but I thought about you heaps over the Christmas holiday. Thought about having you right here with me to take in the Christmas smells and whatnot.
I still miss you, August.
And I still think about you all the time.
I love you.
mommie
12:54 a.m. - Saturday, Jan. 24, 2009
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Soon after Christmas
I've called you now a thousand times
I think I know now, you're not home
I've said your name a thousand times
To be prepared if you'd be there
I wanted so to have you
And I wanted you to know
I wanted to write songs
About how we're walking in the snow
You've got me slightly disappointed
Just a bit and just enough
To keep me up another night
Waiting for another day
The city is taking a day off
The streets are empty
No one's out tonight
My life is in another's hands
I wanted so to have you
And I wanted you to know
I wanted to write songs
About how we're walking in the snow
But there's no snow this winter
There's no words for what I feel for you
It's not enough though it's too much
Why must it always be like that?
The TV screen is lighting up my room
The film has ended
Every inch of my skin is crying for your hands
And I wanted so to have you
And I wanted you to know
I wanted to write songs
About how we're walking in the snow
You've got me slightly disappointed
Just a bit and just enough
To keep me up another night
Waiting for another day
12:39 a.m. - Thursday, Dec. 04, 2008
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I just don't want to miss you tonight
It's been about a month since I've held my baby sister.
So after her lunch, I took her out for a walk along the corridor as per her usual pre-nap ritual.
She traced patterns on the ill-painted parapet, entranced by tiny bumps that don't really mean a thing. She peered closely at our neighbour's tiny pond, with its stale water and slow moving fish.
And when I started to sing, she leaned back in my arms, to watch me intently. It's the first that she's been so responsive to my singing, and for the length of the song on repeat, I watched her watch my lips and move towards my eyes and back down to my lips again.
Finally, she curled herself tight against my chest, right above my heart.
We lie to children all the time.
Tell them that we'll be back soon, that we'll be around forever, that one day if they're good enough the stars will fall down for them.
And you find that they fall asleep against your heart. Right where you can't possibly lie.
There are nights where I lie on my back with my palm flat against my tummy. No different than it was a couple of months ago.
I think about the nights that I used to do that. The nights that I used to tell him secrets, and hum just a little bit before falling asleep. The nights when I would promise that whatever happened, it would be for the best and most importantly, I loved him.
I had my reasons, I'd tell you, for giving him up. Chemical friends and a baby are a terrible combination and that was the huge sign that kept blinding me with it's bursts of flashes.
But for the most part, I feel like I've lied.
Maybe, deep down, I just couldn't face telling my mother and the rest of my family. Maybe I was too scared and as much as I said it aloud and tried to make myself believe that it was all real, it wasn't yet. And I didn't want it to be.
There're so many video clips and short documentaries that I've been watching these couple of days. Although there're lots of moms ranging from as young as thirteen to as "old" as nineteen, there're tonnes that are my age. (This one particular documentary happened to have nine out of ten interviewees being seventeen at the time of birth)
I am grappling with the truthful answer to the question,
"Why couldn't I do it?"
It's a valid point that was raised in a random forum I stumbled upon. That amongst those who've had abortions, there are definitely those who have regretted their decision. On the other hand, those who chose to carry their pregnancy to term and keep their baby, have never ever (as far as it's been shown) regretted it.
Most of us want our fairytales to come true. We want to be settled and financially stable and married before we have our babies. But then it doesn't always turn out that way.
When I brought the idea of giving him up out into the open, a breath of words growing cold in the 2am chill, his father told me that it was something I could do for him as a mother. A first major decision to make because I loved him all that much.
And when I'd decided to give him up, I told myself and I wrote it out here and in various other private journals that it was for the best. I said that I was doing it because of all those horrible effects from my chemical friends.
I said that I was doing it because I loved him.
That I loved him enough to figure how bad it would be for him otherwise, and let go.
But I never told him.
I told him that I still loved him, and that he would always mean the world to me. I told him that this was for the best. But I never said that it was because I loved him so much, that it was a better decision to give him up.
I don't know if that would've been lying;
either to him or myself.
2:12 a.m. - Thursday, Nov. 20, 2008
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the pain of sanity
I know God will not give me anything I cannot handle.
I just wish He didn't trust me so much.
-- Mother Teresa
Pushed past dust and clouds and white cloth that hangs from nothing and is billowing-
even in still air.
To find myself in an empty school hall, it's parquet floor echoing with squeaks of the schools shoes worn by children who aren't there.
I'm in a corner, closest to the stage, and staring up at it.
And a young boy stands right beside me, staring at the nothing that I too am distracted by.
Holding on to my last finger, like I could promise him the world.
4:19 p.m. - Thursday, Nov. 13, 2008
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two month mark
It's the eighth again, but I find myself too ill to do any running away. Even from myself. What good would that do, anyhow?
It doesn't keep me from missing, or getting angry at the world sometimes. (All angsty-emo teen, gosh!)
I had one of those huge major fights with mommy the other day. We're alright now of course. But well, I kept thinking,
"Bloody hell, if you only knew half of it."
Sometimes it really does make me wonder, and it makes me feel angrier.
I'm too doped up to be making sense right now, damn cold.
I was back at the office today.
It was funny, the last time I was there, I still had August with me and I was so incredibly nauseas it wasn't even funny.
I remember it was like, the day I was the most nauseas, and I just thought that I couldn't imagine going through that for nine months, and a round of applause to those mothers out there.
It bittersweet, then, to find that on the day I gave him up, I wasn't nauseas at all.
But then, it's always like that, isn't it?
10:28 p.m. - Saturday, Nov. 08, 2008
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-
we talked about the whole playing with lives like they were pawns in a chess game,
and i asked about swapping your own kids life to save ten others.
and i was gonna pick the answer that said I'd save my kid, even for the lives of ten random people.
And then i thought
i can't say that, because I didn't.
And the other ten people didn't even have to be dying
12:02 a.m. - Friday, Oct. 31, 2008
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ashes and wine
So another friend's given birth.
It's a boy too, and just the cutest thing.
I'm glad for her,
really I am.
Guess you can say I've been getting better. I wonder if dressing up as a pregnant girl in uniform this Halloween will rip me up inside like I think it might. It's not funny, you know.
But I've run out of things to think or say.
Almost like how when people keep telling you you're fat. It's not funny, but after a while you rub salt into your own wound so that you can say,
"I controlled this."
Isaiah 54
1 "Sing, O barren woman,
you who never bore a child;
burst into song, shout for joy,
you who were never in labor;
because more are the children of the desolate woman
than of her who has a husband,"
says the LORD.
2 "Enlarge the place of your tent,
stretch your tent curtains wide,
do not hold back;
lengthen your cords,
strengthen your stakes.
3 For you will spread out to the right and to the left;
your descendants will dispossess nations
and settle in their desolate cities.
4 "Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame.
Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated.
You will forget the shame of your youth
and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood.
Funny, this was read out today.
And I don't know why but I keep reading it over and over again.
I too, am wondering why I'm wondering.
I'm not a widow, but I liked the last part of the excerpt a whole lot.
Well, this is all over now, isn't it?
I'm moving on I suppose you can say.
Not forgetting, of course.
And I still get that pang, you know.
Like when I see my friends having gone through all that and given birth.
I still feel like I didn't have the guts to, and sometimes I hate myself for it.
It's true, to a certain extent,
that there'll never be enough reason for either option you choose.
There wasn't a right answer, and there isn't one now either.
I can't say for certain what would happen if it happened all over again.
If it wasn't a mistake, how do you learn from it?
9:00 p.m. - Sunday, Oct. 26, 2008
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You had my heart, the moment that you were. You were meant to have it, anyway.
I found out something the other day:
C's baby was born on August 27th.
The same day that I found out I was pregnant. I know for sure that if I'd talked to her, I would have kept mine.
But as is.
As if that isn't bad enough,
as if missing something with all your heart and not having enough of yourself to hate isn't enough,
I found out something else too.
At 6 weeks,
my baby had a brain and a heart.
At 6 weeks,
my baby was, in fact, a baby.
He had kidneys, his hands and wrists had begun to form, his arms and legs had already begun to take shape two whole weeks before.
So, I wasn't stupid for thinking of him as a human being I suppose, but that isn't as comforting as I thought it'd be.
That girl beside me was wrong.
She was wrong.
At seven weeks, her baby had joints, even.
August was two weeks away from being about 90% complete.
And I didn't keep him.
I think I have run out of tears to cry.
Because I am writing this and I'm not crying anymore. I'm staring blankly at my screen, although it doesn't make an iota of difference.
I think from the start, I leaned towards wanting to keep things the way I knew it. I was scared.
But look, I've got what I wanted, right?
Everything's as it was and hardly anyone knows.
I never figured that would leave me wishing otherwise instead.
The doctor asked,
"Are you sure you've thought about this for over 48 hours?"
Christ, I'd thought about it for nearly two weeks!
"Definitely" I had answered.
I was so sure it was what I wanted.
I was so sure that it was for the best.
And failing all, I comforted myself with the thought that, it doesn't even have a brain or a heart. It's not really a he yet, it's barely a person.
And here, I find myself too late to do anything and so fucking wrong.
I could have asked to come back another day, then. But I had worked myself up and brought myself there.
It was funny, you know.
I remember my nausea stopped that morning. And I thought, "Just when I am about to give you up, you are perfect."
He wasn't ever not.
Figures.
I want him back so badly.
I want to be able to undo the entire last month, thought about it more.
I have never in my life regretted something. I've always believed in things happening for a reason and that, if you relived that moment in your life, you probably would have done the same thing.
I'm not guilty, because I felt it was right at the time. But I am drenched in all-consuming regret.
and.
there is nothing I can do about it.
He's gone now, and I'd like to go too.
I really would.
Isn't this just rich?
I had the guts to take his life and I don't have the guts to take mine.
Seriously,
I need to fuck off and shut up
----
and before you would know,
within that tiny hand that had yet to fully form,
you already had a piece of my heart gripped tight.
Don't you ever forget that I love you and that all I could ever wish for, is for you to be here with me.
6:51 p.m. - Monday, Oct. 13, 2008
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aftermath
He wrote me a letter the other day.
One that he accidentally told me about and felt that if he chucked it, I would just end up hounding him.
now the world knows how psychotic i am.
He still thinks about it.
What happened.
And it's comforting to know that I'm not the only one who is frustrated at how unchanged my world is.
But you know, he was just fine before all this happened. And I just wish I thought it over enough. Because then I wouldn't have told him. He tells me not to ever wish i didn't tell him. But you see, he would have been fine otherwise.
Me not keeping the baby, it's over now and there isn't a need for him to know. At the time, him being around did wonders for me.
But I'd rather not have had that, and know that he'd be happier now.
I wish he didn't have to go through this with me.
Don't want him feeling like he just can't do anything to make me happier or to make things better.
Because I'll be fine.
And I don't know if I could say the same thing for him.
I really want to though.
and I want to love him like I used to.
6:36 p.m. - Monday, Oct. 13, 2008
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normal
So i spent yesterday running away, before I realized that there wasn't anyone I was running away from besides myself.
Besides blogging here,
I tried a hand at being normal.
Whatever normal is.
I would've believed me,
I would.
"You haven't been happy for a long time," he told me.
there wasn't much of a point denying that.
Now since the one month mark's passed,
does this mean I'll stop being hormonal and crying at every second thing?
Cos that would be rather nice.
Alone with your thoughts, is the most dangerous place to be.
10:58 a.m. - Thursday, Oct. 09, 2008
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It's a month now, love
Hello, October 8th.
Right now I feel that at any given moment, I'm going to just keel over at the slightest prick; deflate like a balloon and cry until the world thinks I've gone mad.
Bordering on hysteria last night, and crying so much that I could barely see, I texted a close friend.
I haven't been talking about all this to anyone at all, but I texted her anyway.
And as sanity slipped itself onto me this morning like a second skin, I read the message I'd sent:
Tori, it said, I wish I kept him. I can't hate myself if i did the right thing. Yet i miss him, I want him back. But it's too late and I should move on, but I can't. He was mine, Tori, and i loved him, I swear I did. So why did I give him up?
I didn't get a reply.
But then, I wouldn't know what to say if I were her either, and I don't know what I could possibly expect her to reply.
Maybe I'll forget I became human and that I went on yet another crying spree.
I had a dream last night, and I was holding a baby as it fell asleep against my chest. And I was sure it was my baby boy. But then when I looked down, it was my baby sister instead.
Hasn't someone once said something about not worrying about the dead when we've still got the living to look after?
Don't ask me what my dream meant, I don't know.
It's October 8th,
and it happened to be a beautiful day to be beautiful.
But I'm not.
Today I don't want to answer calls or texts or IMs.
I don't exactly want to be left alone, but I don't want to talk.
I want to stare blankly at people and see right through them before looking away.
I want someone to sit with me and hold my hand while I remember and cry.
When I was at the clinic and we were all in the recovery room, just waiting, we started out careful conversations with each other. The girl beside me told me that she scheduled the appointment the moment she knew. "I've got my life ahead of me," She said, simply. When I asked if she'd kept a picture of the scan shot back an immediate No.
Why? I had asked.
"我不想看到他!" She had said. Translated, that means, "I don't want to see him!"
She was seven weeks in at the time,
"About the size of a grain of rice." She had stated, matter-of-factly.
"Really?" I asked, looking at her.
"Yep. It doesn't even have a brain or a heart."
Someone once told me that they aren't yet. Some argue that they aren't anything until they've got a brain or a heart, others argue that they're not even anything until the day they're born.
So sometimes it makes me feel silly.
I don't know for sure if it was a baby boy, I'd have to wait til, well right about now come to think of it, before I could confirm for sure. But I've a pretty strong feeling. And my mommy's a nurse, so something as simple as the difference in pulse strength in your wrists can let you know right away.
I feel silly because even now when he is no more, i still refer to him as my baby boy.
Yes, it makes me feel silly because he didn't have a brain or a heart. He wasn't even a 100% a he yet.
And yet, I never seemed to have thought of him as anything less than a person.
I picked up my baby sister who's just turned nine months. I picked her up from her high chair and said to her,
"Can I just hold you today?"
And I held her tight to me, like she was mine and I wasn't ever going to let go.
It can't possibly matter that if he were here, I would give him the entire world if I could. There's no point in me telling him i love him when he isn't here because I gave him up.
There's no point in me crying, so why can't I stop?
Are you still going to tell me that I'm just being hormonal?
I don't fucking know what to do with myself right now, especially not today.
But I miss him. I miss him like crazy and I'm finally admitting it now:
I wish I never gave him up.
Because nothing else would've mattered anyway.
1:42 p.m. - Wednesday, Oct. 08, 2008
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I just want you to know who I am
Aren't I singing the same bloody tune over and over again?
It's too late to say "I wish I didn't," and even if I could go back in time I can't promise that I wouldn't.
There isn't anywhere else to go, and there isn't anyone else to talk to.
So here I am, again.
Naked in front of a world of strangers and crying. Because that's all I can fucking do these days even though it doesn't help anything.
It's an hour and forty-five minutes into the one month mark of the day I gave up the piece of myself that meant the entire world.
Now, in all my sappy, teary-eyed computer-screen nights I'm just thinking:
It wouldn't have been anything if I told my mommy or the rest of the world. It wouldn't have mattered if I never got my degree, my BA, my masters or my PHD. Because I could get all that now, and I am still left with absolutely nothing.
My friend allowed me access to the private photographs of her newborn baby boy. She's a year younger than me and doing her O levels this year.
Why couldn't I have done that?
What made me think that having my baby would have changed my future in a way too drastic for me to handle?
Why couldn't I have had the nerve to say,
"Nothing else matters, except him"?
I read an article today which said that even the tiniest bit of alcohol during pregnancy can have detrimental effects on the child. At least that's something I saved him from.
But then, how come it doesn't make me feel any better?
There isn't a point saying what I wish I did. Don't I know that for a fact.
And there isn't a point in saying
"what if" or "Should I have".
But it doesn't mean I don't.
And it doesn't mean it doesn't matter.
And I'd give up forever to touch you
Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now
And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
Cause sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight
And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
It's so odd how this bit of the song spells out parts of what I want to say.
-----
For the moment that you were,
you were mine. And God I swear I loved you with every single bit of the horrible heart I have. The same heart that could go through with giving you up.
The same heart that loves you and misses you, still.
I love you.
Fucking hell, I love you so fucking much and I just didn't tell you enough and I didn't show it. How could I have loved you if I couldn't face what we would go through.
Couldn't I have seen that maybe I just might have been enough for you?
Could I have?
Would I have?
I want you.
I want you back, right here with me.
I want to hold you and tell you I'm so fucking sorry.
And I want to love you for as long as I possibly can.
It's too fucking late now for regrets, so why am I even walking down that road with a dead end?
It's too late now, but I love you all the same. And as much as my heart is capable of loving.
We think we know best, that we can play God.
I thought doing this was good for you because I could avoid you being raised in less to be desired circumstances.
I thought doing this because of my disgusting habits and diets were enough of a reason.
I thought, and over-thought and reasoned.
I thought it was all for the best.
Clearly, I thought bloody fucking wrong.
Because there's nothing left here except this cold empty shell of a person, screaming for the one most important thing in her life which she CHOSE to give up.
I once wrote in a college essay, that loving you was an accident. I also meant that, even though you weren't a mistake, loving you was.
It wasn't though.
It isn't.
Loving you isn't a mistake because it's the only thing I have left.
And I'm just loving a memory; a greying picture.
I know.
But it's all I have left of you.
Baby, it's all I have left of you.
This realization, that my heart could fill so completely and still have space for more. That I could ache and hear my insides tear themselves apart.
That I could want to reach in and rip myself apart because of what I've done.
That I could want to give you so much of me, and it still wouldn't be enough.
This realization, that I could love again.
Before you could even be, you'd changed my life.
I want to have had been ready for that change. But what's the point in wishing now?
1:44 a.m. - Wednesday, Oct. 08, 2008
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I'd give up forever to touch you
I want to talk.
I want to talk but it feels like I can't.
I want to sit and cry and focus that pain which sears through my entirety.
and,
there doesn't feel like there's anyone to talk to. Not about this.
The moment you say "I want to talk" you've got amazing friends coming round.
But it's just as difficult you see. Because I don't want to keep talking about this to people who will grow tired.
To people who will tell me that it will be okay eventually and that I'm just hormonal.
To people who'll tell me how sorry they are that I have to go through this.
Because I don't feel sorry that I have to go through this.
I feel sorry that I had to do what I did, that I couldn't bring a life into this world. But I don't feel sorry for myself.
I don't, but I don't want to sound selfless and martyr-like.
Because if I could just spend a day crying, and telling you every single thing even before I've arranged it properly in my head, I would think I'm wallowing in self-pity.
Most of the time I think I'm just being utterly stupid, for spending ages staring at picture of my friend's baby, or feeling like crying when I see a mother and her newborn.
I feel stupid because I don't think I've got a right to. After all, didn't I make that final decision? So shouldn't I get my head out of my ass right about now?
If I was doing it for him, my baby boy, does it make it right?
And if it does, why doesn't it feel like that in the least?
If I really loved him as much as I say I do, why can't I let go?
Isn't it far too late to say I'm sorry now?
In two days, it'll be a month.
I wish I talked to him more, told him I loved him more often.
What I wish, more than anything though, is that I had the guts.
The guts to keep him, even though it might have seemed selfish or far from the best choice.
Because I realized that,
nothing in the world could have outweighed that moment I would have seen him smile.
10:12 p.m. - Monday, Oct. 06, 2008
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Dream Figure
Dream figure,
who my heart knows well
Could I love you a bit longer
Must I say goodbye now?
Can't I go, with you?
Are you lost,
in the shadows to which you don't belong
where the truth still stings
and you're paying for another's wrongs
yet no one knows your name
Still you'll never know the pain of sanity
or the fear that comes with truth that sets you free
or the hurt white lies cover
like bandages over wounds
But couldn't I have stayed to hold your hand
and brought you through that portal
Because all I want to do now,
is go back and find you.
My dream figure.
Dream figure,
who I'm thinking of
can I love you a bit longer
Can I not say, goodnight?
Do you cry,
in the corners that have now become your home
where life taunts and mocks
and you're calling, out for me
Still you'll never know the pain of sanity
or the fear that comes with truth that sets you free
or the hurt white lies cover
like bandages over wounds
Oh I could've stayed to hold your hand
and saved you from that wretched land
Because all I want to do now,
Is go back and find you.
My dream figure.
My dream figure.
10:02 p.m. - Monday, Oct. 06, 2008
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full circles and goodbyes, baby laughs and teary eyes
well,
in a couple of hours it'll be exactly a week from the day my decision was made.
And on this particular day,
September 8th, I'm saying goodbye.
Yes this is me
This is real
And this is happening.
I've been having the worst of the symptoms, though I'm sure it can get worse.
I've gone off smoking, amazingly.
But everything makes me feel like throwing up.
Every tiny movement, every smell that assults me.
His daddy's taking the day off tomorrow to hold my hand.
It's amazing you know, the support he's been of recent. Not that he wasn't.
It's just.
Well.
He's felt useless, he says, seeing me all pained and not being able to do anything. But i feel shitty because I know I'm absolute horrid company right now. And i probably will be for a couple of days more.
I don't really want people to have to worry about me, or ask if I'm okay.
Because I'm not.
And i feel awful about it. Simply because I don't want them to worry. I don't want them to think, shit what am i doing wrong, what can I do. all that stuff.
I went into a weird mood swing today.
But all I really wanted to do was lie down somewhere cool and not throw up.
I really want the nausea to go away.
It's terrible.
It's amazing, what I'll be doing tomorrow.
i'm scared because I'm not sure how I'll be when it's all over.
I'm really scared about that, and I actually think it's fucking selfish of me.
This past week,
I didn't talk to him/her/it. He wasn't there, I didn't want to get any more attached than I already was.
Does that make any sense?
I thought I'd hold on to that feeling of being a mommy for really long.
I thought I'd fall asleep at night and smile and savour those happy-mommy feelings.
But i didn't.
I lived. well sort of, what you can call living anyway.
I laughed and walked and threw up.
Maybe in my mind, it's already happened.
He's already been pulled out of my body.
You know, before I told the Daddy my decision (he gave me til wednesday),
he told me how he actually started making plans. You know, like if I did choose to keep the baby.
I smiled at the thought.
I watched The Pursuit of Happyness the other day. I know it turns out happy and all in the end. But there were moments, where I just felt, that child should not have had to experience that. Not sleeping in the toilet, not watching his momma walk out on him.
I blame the mom a lot more than i blame the dad.
Seriously, if you decide you're going to keep the kid, you'd better have the idea and the plan to struggle it out on your own. You can't ever be dependent on someone else like that.
I looked at that scene and thought,
I am doing the right thing here.
And at least I can smile at that.
10:54 p.m. - Sunday, Sept. 07, 2008
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I'm okay. I will be
It's occurred to me that most girls in this predicament wouldn't go set up an anonymous blog and type out their fucking soul.
Well, to each their own.
As you can see, I've been flip flopping around like crazy.
I went to church yesterday, even though I really didn't feel like going. And it was good I suppose.
During worship, a song came up.
It went:
If You say step out on the water,
and they say it can't be done
We'll fix our eyes on You and we will come.
If You call us to the fire,
You will not withdraw Your hand
we'll gaze into the flames and look for You.
Then the worship leader said something about us being taken completely out of our comfort zone. Said that we might feel like we're fish out of water but we've to know that He's there with us.
Then the sermon, which I left halfway through, talked about being vessels for God. And how, more importantly, it's never to His convenience.
Maybe I'm just identifying with things that aren't supposed to hold that much meaning.
As if my morning tumble of thoughts wasn't enough to handle.
So I went outside for a bit, and I was probably worrying him crazy because I just kinda stared off into space a lot. But anyway, I told him.
I told him I wanted to keep the baby.
And I do, with all my heart.
We went down to the beach and talked about it. I was excited. I've always been, thinking about it.
As opposed to the day before, waking up and crying or singing and then crying.
We both didn't want the kid to be born here, so we figured I'd fly back to home to the UK first.
He was the sweetest thing.
He then said that he'd come over too.
I was really happy, the entire day. I found myself incredibly light-hearted (yeah I know that sounds cheesy). You know, I was practically skipping about. Strange isn't it?
I liked, no scratch that, I loved that plan.
It's awfully funny you see.
The daddy and I, we're not together or anything. And we're not in love either. We're just really good friends.
He claims he's emotionally dead and I don't think I ever want to be with a guy again.
So that's why it was a bit of a shocker for him to want to well, play more than a weekend dad.
We've decided to give it til this Wednesday to decide.
That would mean exactly a week from the day I found out.
Gosh, has it only been that long?
Well,
I thought about it like crazy.
Thing is, even though I was convinced yesterday, I'm just as convinced that I can't.
There's a whole list of reasons, really.
If I don't think about anyone else at all, then it'd be that:
1) I've smoked and drank a hell lot and I can't deal with my baby having to grow up with learning disabilities (if not physical) because of me.
2) As if that isn't bad enough, on top of that I can't provide and comfortable enough environment and childhood.
That just, isn't fair.
I think about his (yes, it's a baby boy) daddy. And I mean, I can't possibly want or twist his hand into becoming a dad at 25 and restarting his life in some unknown country.
I know it's not that he doesn't want the kid or kids, eventually. But now, would be too insane. Much too insane.
I think I've overthought the effects on my sister and my mom, so much so that I don't really want to.
Then,
I've thought about me and how unstable my work is. And how it'd be the worst time for me to bring up a kid, especially before I'm even done studying.
So here I am,
feeling a few of those superpowers you get when you're preggers. You know, like being able to smell every fucking thing, and having weird insights and gut-feels, being sore and not being able to poop.
Though those last two weren't really the most appealing of superpowers.
And here I am,
with my final decision.
I'm not keeping my baby boy.
I can't, knowing what a horrible mother I've started off as and might just turn out to be.
I should stop making such a huge deal out of it actually. I feel awful, feel like I'm dragging this on and milking it for all it's worth.
I randomly think about it sometimes, I do.
And i hate that I've developed this emotional attachment so early on.
Anyhow,
I've scheduled an appointment already.
So.
Eventually I'll stop talking about it, because there's really nothing to talk about when it's all over.
And then after a while, I'll stop thinking about it altogether.
And then one day, I'll tell my kids about it so that they won't have to go through the same thing.
But yes,
I will be okay.
11:09 a.m. - Monday, Sept. 01, 2008
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decision
and there's no denying it.
Did I decide that, for real last night?
I woke up this morning and thought,
"I'm giving it up."
And then, reality hit and I didn't want to and all.
It was funny.
The topic came up with an old friend of mine and we ended up talking about it over lunch.
I even posed that not-so-hypothetical question to my little sister. She opted out of keeping the kid.
At the end of it all, it seems clear as fucking day:
At seventeen, you don't keep the kid.
You can't because it's impossible. Because you can't possibly provide the best for that child.
Then I heard daddy's take, which I know for a fact is more or less the same as mommy's.
The argument I gave in my last entry, basically. And daddy added on that, even though it's difficult, the only thing to do now is to try your damned best to be a good parent.
I can't say for certain where I stood after that. I mean, I always knew for certain (pretty much) that I'd keep my kid. But how I'd start off, which would involve telling my parents, i had no idea.
Tonight, I told the father.
He was the sweetest thing. He asked what I wanted to do, he said it was completely up to me. And I mean, I really believed him when he said that.
For the next two hours we sat and I spilled completely on my reasons. Every single one of them.
And my final decision was that,
I wanted with all my heart to keep the baby.
None of it made sense.
Everything practical and rational points to an abortion.
But I wanted so badly to keep this child.
So, well, I asked him what he wanted me to do.
I know he'd say the same thing as a friend and it's not just because he's the father.
I figured what he'd say. But when he said it, I just felt like everything inside me was being ripped out.
Everything hurt so fucking bad, it was unbelievable. All I could do was cry, and I didn't want to stop.
I felt like dying. That's all I felt like doing.
And I knew, I know, that when I go through with the abortion, for ages afterwards I'm just going to feel like dying.
But here's the realization I've come to as well:
That it'd be selfish of me to keep the child. I mean, if we could choose our lives, we probably would. So since we can help someone else choose their life, we should make a decent decision, shouldn't we?
Everyone else will come out of this unscathed, if I have the abortion. And if i survive any suicide attempts, then I mean, fuck it, I'll live.
And that's how I decided.
No one's ready, though I can fool myself into believing I am.
And I know if, after I get the abortion, I'm never going to want to have kids again. I mean, i'm quite sure I don't want to get married but I used to think I'd want a couple of my own kids.
Now, I don't think I'd want to. Ever.
I don't think I could ever deserve something like that.
3:44 a.m. - Saturday, Aug. 30, 2008
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Second guessing
what will you say, when i finally tell you?
I don't know what I'm waiting for right now, to be honest.
I think I'm waiting for the 48 hour time lapse so that I can retake the test and see if this is all really happening to me.
For the first time, like ever,
I thought about an abortion.
For the first time.
I've never supported it. Ever.
The thing is, that being inside you, didn't ask to be put there. Taking its life wouldn't be fair.
Then there are all these other factors to take into consideration.
1)If you're pretty damn sure you're not going to be able to provide a good enough life for the child,
should you have the baby?
2)The knowledge that by not having this child, your life would very likely go back to exactly the way it was.
3)"I'm just not ready" would suffice too.
I think about twenty-ish year olds who would choose to have an abortion because they're in the middle of building their career and all that. I used to think that was like, incredibly selfish of them.
But now I'm figuring, if they've spent so much time climbing up, and they're hitting the peak of their career, the last thing they'd want is a baby.
Let's be straight, I mean,
having a baby throws all plans/planning completely out the window.
I look at mommy and my sister. And I just think, Fuck I love them so fucking much, and I don't want to mess up their lives.
And I know for a fact that this will affect them, whether I want it to or not.
I think about how my grandma would blame my mom and scream blue bloody fucking murder. And I just, don't want her to have to go through that. She'd have gone through enough, trying to breathe properly and holding my hand.
It's things like these that scare me.
I went out with my mommy today. Oddly enough, it's actually something we haven't done in ages. We've both just been busy with our lives.
After a while, I forgot the secret that I was burying deep, deep inside me. But as and when I thought about it, I'd look at my mommy- this woman I love so incredibly much- and I found myself thinking,
"What am I about to do to her?"
Things like these are what make me feel like crying. And I haven't felt like crying since I found out.
There's a part of me that's so incredibly excited. You just wouldn't believe. Sure, I'm scared as hell, but I smile a lot to myself.
Then I think about my mom and my sister and what they'll both have to go through.
And for those reasons alone, it seems like a good enough reason to get an abortion.
Whenever I thought about this happening to me, I always decided that, without a doubt, I would have the child.
I probably wouldn't put him/her up for adoption but that would only be decided later.
I never took into consideration the beginning of the shift of my entire world.
I look around me and I think,
How can they not know?
How can everything be so normal?
I sit in a cab, and I'm thinking about things like these but I realize, on the outside, I look exactly like I always do.
All these insane thoughts are running through my head and I realize, with this horrible pang, that everything I consider normal and everyday would cease to exist.
In a few months, I'd be wishing for those moments. Just normal, everyday moments like taking the elevator up to our apartment or falling asleep in the cab ride home or kissing mommy goodnight.
I'm trying to keep it in til Saturday.
I'll take another test and then, if there's not denying it then I'll tell mommy.
It's either that or just getting an abortion lined up.
After all, it wouldn't make sense to put mommy through all that.
But I don't want an abortion.
There.
I've typed it out.
It seems so bloody easy. It just makes sense to have an abortion. I don't blame all those people who chose to have an abortion either. It's just that, I can't. Or I don't think I can.
No, I'm not thinking of myself or of my family or of anything at all right now.
This is just gut feel.
As opposed to being realistic and thinking it through. If I were to do that, then an abortion would make sense.
I'm seventeen.
I'm in the middle of my Associate's Degree, I've got college to go to in a year and a half.
I want to act and sing and how in the world is that going to feed a kid?
And the father.
I haven't talked about the father have I?
He's an amazing person but I don't want to freak him out and screw up his life either.
What will you say, when I tell you?
What will all of you say?
Right now, I want to tidy up my room.
And then,
then I want to run away.
I want to run far far far away.
I want to tell them I'm sorry. I want to be in a place where none of this will matter in the least. I want to know that I'm not messing up anyone's life.
But isn't that precisely the problem?
They all begin with "I".
I'm no more clear-headed now, than when I first started typing.
Guess one thing's for sure;
That if this is real, I won't have an abortion.
It doesn't feel like I'm going anywhere at all right now.
10:06 p.m. - Thursday, Aug. 28, 2008
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-
I don't know what to do.
If this is real, then I'm going to keep the baby.
But I think there's a tiny part of me that's sort of hoping it's not real. That it's a fuzzy dream.
It doesn't feel like a dream.
Sometimes there are moments in your life where it's all so unbelievable that it feels like you're walking in a dream.
It doesn't feel like that.
It feels real.
It feels like.
Like I have to take a deep breath and embark on the rest of my life.
I want to laugh and have it be okay.
If there's one thing I know though, it's that this is not a mistake.
This isn't a mistake.
I just need to know what to do.
4:09 p.m. - Wednesday, Aug. 27, 2008
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