Three to the fourth power

I came to glance, to poke around, to remember. And at the bottom of my page sits a ticker that prompted me to say, "huh. how 'bout that."
Even though everything in my being is screaming in rememberence of Nick, I felt it necessary to comment on the baby girl's status.
3 years, 3 months, 3 weeks, 3 days... since another star burned out.
Ah, yes.

Thomas woz there

Perhaps I need someone to lead the way out. My very good friend Jill found the door and backed out quietly. She left the lights on, and couple of house plants over here that need watering, but took all the damn furniture. So now what?
I've been thinking for a while that there's really no use for my own blog anymore. My work life has taken over any semblance of a personal life, in actuality. What I have to offer here is basic pissing and moaning that in no way reflects the dear god please help save me from myself urgency that initiated my tome.
Am I cured? Fixed? Healed? All better now?
Fuck. NO.
I'm every bit as crazy and then some. I still cry, almost daily.
I'm not "cycling"; I can't call this an infertility blog.
A "loss" blog, yes, but people tire of hearing sad stories and I sure as hell can't make it any more entertaining.
A "life" blog? Well, maybe. But I'd have to change a few things here and there, I suppose. I feel very compartmentalized. While the whole of me encompasses all the varieties of experiences in my life, I still feel some sick need to keep things separate. This is the everyday me. This is the work me. This is the crushed by life's unfair treatment and why the fuck can't I cry if I want to me.
To be honest with myself, I haven't moved on. I added more baggage to the closet upstairs, and am shopping for some storage organizers. I'm not quite ready for the garage sale.
My name is Julie, and I'm a professional hoarder.
Soon, perhaps, I'll be ready to turn a corner, flip the page, write the conclusion. Maybe. But not yet. If I allow myself the time and the heartache, there is so much I have left to say. About everything, nothing, and all things in between. For now, denial and silence seem to be working in my favor. Go me!
Jill, my love, my pal down-under... I am so pleased that you are in the place where you need to be now. You go, girl. Rock on.

Brain Scan

Small Talk

DD has an interesting post up over at T.K.O.
It brought to mind some weirdness from work the other day.
A 40'ish lady from another department wanders near me, doing her thing.
"Hey, how ya doin'?"
Good, how about you?
Not bad, thanks. Quiet night.
Yeah, here too.
::silence::
::more work::
That's a nice top.
Thank you! I wasn't sure about the pants, but I guess they match.
Yeah. Looks good.
::silence::
My boyfriend picked it out.
[smile]
::silence::
I had a pretty interesting weekend.
[ ? ? ]
Yeah. Slept with him for the first time.
[ wha?] ::incredulous look of WTF::
::uncomfortable silence::
You, uh... you...
I mean I slept over for the first time.
How long have you been together?
About six months.
That's great.
Yeah. He's great.
So, you, uh... you slept at his house?
[trying to look terribly busy. c'mon phone...ring]
Yeah, it was a little strange. He's like all over the bed and stealing the covers and stuff. I was more worried about morning breath. ::giggle::
[oh dear god help me]
::smile::
::silence::
[seriously trying to find a distraction.]
Yeah, he's really something. He really proved himself to me when he showed up to videotape me singing at blah blah blah....
And so she went on for another 20 minutes, detailing the past several months of their courtship. I don't even know her name!
WTMFI.

Okay with it

One of the ladies I work with has miscarried. Fourteen weeks into her pregnancy, (at her first appointment), they discovered that the embryo stopped growing at 6w. Her body just didn't realize it. Neither did she, as her lack of symptoms just seemed okay. She said she didn't know any better, but she's okay with it. She was able to avoid a d&c with the administration of cytotec. She said that since it had been 10 years since her last pregnancy, she had forgotten what to expect, and hoped that maybe her body was just cleaning out and preparing for the next one to stick, as she intends to try again. She said other than the intense bleeding, she really wasn't too bothered by it.
"It's not like we were trying or anything; it really wasn't planned."
Now, I know that miscarriages happen all the time, to anybody.
And I know that not everyone has to try hard to get pregnant.
I also understand that one hasn't had sufficient time to "bond" with the baby that early in the pregnancy.
{For instance, my loss at 13 weeks hurt most because it was right on the heels of losing Nicholas. Yes, I ache for what could have been, but I wasn't as emotionally invested in the pregnancy yet. I think the news that I'd lost a little girl that time hurt more than the fact I had lost another child.}
Certainly, I don't expect everyone to react with complete hysterics at the news of a loss.
I don't even feel that everyone needs to cry.
But her nonchalance has me puzzled. And I don't know why.
Perhaps it's because she doesn't struggle with infertility. She chose not to have another child between her firstborn and this loss. She has a new-ish husband, who is much older, and again I must point out (yes, this is a different woman than the co-worker I spoke of before), the husband was "shocked and worried" because he didn't really want/need more kids. She's all like "Oh well, no big deal", and I honestly believe that is her stance. I can't read anyone's mind, but if you knew this gal, you'd understand that she is truly unfazed.
I swear I don't have some sick need for her to be a blubbering mess. I don't. And I know that my own frustrations don't amount to a hill of beans to someone who hasn't been there.
There's nothing you can do about it.
Move on.
Get over it.
Shit happens.
So, why does this even warrant any thought on my part?
You've all had losses - do you find the unemotional "Eh, oh well!" behavior a little weird?
I won't even ask if maybe I'm just nuts. 'Cuz we all know the answer to that one.