Category Archives: breakdown

solid air

je ne vais pas bien.

je ne vais pas bien.

how is it that i am still here?

      (written for Nick Drake)

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my second day teaching, i broke down in the office while talking to Pol, one of the staff.  she’d  asked how it was being back, and when the words, “it’s hard,” made their way up my throat, so too did a torrent of tears that i couldn’t stop.  it was one of the situations i’d dreaded before going back, and there i was with an obstacle course of corridors and students and colleagues in between me and the privacy of a toilet stall. Continue reading

do you ever have that dream…

nearly four months ago, Froggy and i started our monthly drives to Belgium, that magic land to the northeast where we are allowed access to reproductive care.  as we’d done over a year before, we got up in the dark hours before dawn and drove the three hundred kilometers to our midday rendezvous with a syringe and some of little sun’s donor’s genetic material.  i’d already spent months trying to get my body and mind to a better, healthier place, and in the week leading up to the insemination, i would inject myself daily with a drug that stimulated my ovaries.  after a few days of that, i would begin the blood draws, usually every other day. finally, i would go to my gynecologist and have an ultrasound to see how many follicles i had and if they were ready to be ovulated.  if everything looked good, i would give myself another shot to trigger ovulation, and then 36-38 hours later, we’d be back in a hospital in Belgium, hoping that conception was about to take place. Continue reading

hurt

in what i now think of as my former life, i was a rich woman.  that’s how one of my exes described me, at least. “you are the richest person i know,” she once said, and i had to agree with her.  we weren’t talking about money or possessions, things that to this day mean very little to me…. we were on the subject of friends, and my circle that stretched wide across oceans and ages, languages and life experiences, was something that had always left me feeling particularly fortunate.

these days, when it comes to friends, i am on the verge of bankruptcy.  my dear, dear Pen and Spindle are still there, as are one lovely local friend, a handful of imaginary friends from forums and a few other babylost mamas. for the most part, though, i’ve been abandoned by the people i once thought of as my chosen family, and lately i find myself careening between fits of unwieldy anger and crushing bouts of hurt. Continue reading

so broken…in pieces

six months ago today, little sun came into this world.
six months ago tomorrow, he left it.
i’m still here, though, reeling and railing and trying so hard to hang on
to something…anything.

if you’re someone who stops by this blog regularly, you’ve probably noticed that i’ve been more silent than usual these last few weeks.  the month of May was not very kind to me, and i’m still clinging to the ropes and trying to get steady on my feet again after a series of emotional KOs.  my therapist tells me again and again that i’m a fighter.
all i can see when i look in the mirror
is someone who’s lost…

(i miss you, baby boy.)

raise my hands, paint my spirit gold

it’s been a hard week. i have literally banged my head against walls in frustration and anger, and i have literally been brought to my knees by desperation and despair. there have been tears and hyperventilation and fits of rage so violent and unwieldy that i came very close to dashing my beloved laptop to bits. thankfully, though, the storm seems to be passing….at least for now.

i have a lot of catching up to do here. Froggy and Auntie Tan and i made a trip to Belgium over a week ago, and since then i’ve been to both Sacré-Cœur and Notre Dame. i have pictures and stories to share, but tonight is not the night for that.

instead, i want to talk about music. Continue reading

montmartre, paris

i haven’t been writing much about little sun lately, but not because i haven’t been thinking about him.  the truth is i think about him constantly. his absence is a weeping wound that never heals.  i just try to cover it….by roaming the miles and miles of small Paris neighborhoods, by filling my head with the pabulum of television and light internet reading, by drawing and drawing and drawing until my hand cramps and i see nothing but colors when i close my eyes.  under that thin surface, though, i am crying out for him, my little lost boy.  oh, god, do i miss him.

we’ve been cleared to ttc again, and i find myself inwardly freaking out.  what if it doesn’t work? what if all i ever see again are bone white hpts and an empty space in the back seat of our car? what if it does work?  what if i miscarry or there’s something wrong with the baby or my pre-eclampsia comes back worse or there’s a cord accident or the baby’s stillborn and worst of all…what if the same thing happens all over again?  at nearly 41, i’m anything but the proverbial spring chicken….if i had feathers, i’d certainly be gracing someone’s dinner table by now.  am i still even in this game? how am i going to get through all of this?  i’m so fucking scared, and i don’t know how not to be.  

so i draw and draw and read stupid shit and miss my little sun.  and in between, i try to remind myself to breathe.

and, oh, yeah, tomorrow’s the final vote on gay marriage and adoption in the French National Assembly.