Don’t Judge Me
Credits: Layered template (Storyteller, January 2011 Blog Challenge Freebie) by Rachel Jefferies (Captivated Visions) and Giggles by Jen C Designs. Fonts are Wartorn and DJB CT Laura by Darcy Baldwin.
Journalling reads: When people look at me they see a miserable 26 year old, overweight woman with a husband and 2 kids. They make assumptions about me, like that I was a stupid naive teenager who has two kids because I didn’t know what contraception was. That I am married because of the kids. That I am overweight because I eat too much and because I am lazy. They don’t bother to ask me, they just look and make a snap judgement. If they had asked me maybe there idea of me would have changed once they found out the truth. Take my kids for example, I don’t have 2 kids, I have 5 only 3 of them live in heaven. Yes I was 4 months shy of my 18th birthday when I had Lukas but he was never a mistake, an unplanned accident maybe but in a good way. I grew up in a huge family and I had spent my whole life thinking I would never want kids of my own, yet when we found out I was pregnant, there was never a doubt in my mind that I wanted him, loved him and was excited about the chance to be his mother, even if back then we did think he was a she. The others they were more complicated, the decision of preventing more pregnancies was out of our hands. A severe latex allergy ruling out some, seizures with unknown causes ruling out others, my age another factor ruling out longer term methods. We were only left with 2 one we tried but decided against after the side effects, the second was impossible, we were young and in love and could no easier stay away from each other than we could stop breathing. So we left it up to fate, if we were meant to have another baby so be it. When the snow came down and we heard the words we had been fearing, our world shattered. We called our baby Gaiebraille, the hospital being unable to determine if our first angel was a boy or a girl so we decided on a name suitable for either. That first miscarriage was the start of a downward spiral, a crazy roller coaster ride of emotions. I spent months crying and unable to bear being anywhere near babies, just seeing one in the street would make me feel sick from the pain in my heart. The unfairness of it all irritated me why did they get to have a baby when I didn’t. I felt so lost and then our miracle happened. That pregnancy was different so very difficult, endless hospital visits and people poking, pushing, fraying my every last nerve. By the time Leo was born our relationship was almost non-existent. The long days and weeks I spent in special care didn’t help matters, then there was a brief ray of sunshine, our baby was finally well enough to come home. Only he came home to a single mother and a big brother who adored him and a Daddy who was conflicted, jealous and thinking that his life would be easier without us in it. I would have coped, somehow. Only I didn’t get the chance to even try before he was gone too and our family our 4 was a family of 3. We clung to each other, desperate for the salvation from the agony only loving and caring could bring. Trying to keep our little family from being swallowed by the grief threatening to engulf us and drown us. It took a long time for us to even function again, it was a haze of weeping and regrets and of sadness and sorrow. We were slow to rebuild any of it, the pain too raw to deal with. Our brief ray of sunshine Ambrose, extinguished like the others before, we didn’t live through those years we just survived one day at a time. Medical issues seemed to hang over us like a dark cloud, we watched people we loved suffer and struggle before being taken from us too. I put aside my doubts that a piece of paper wouldn’t make any difference to the way we felt about each other, we started to make plans for a celebration. More to bring everyone together than anything else. That didn’t quite go to plan either, but we never really dared hope for anything more than just getting through the day. I was right in a way, that piece of paper didn’t change much, except Mark’s name, we still argued and bickered, still loved each other just as fiercely as before. I am never truly honest about my health issues, preferring to keep the extent of them to myself, not wanting to complain, or tell anyone exactly what’s going on. Getting pregnant again made things worse. It seems like everyday the standard “normal” things become harder and harder to do. I struggle through each day, trying to balance the physical issues with the emotional ones and just doing what I can. I try hard to mask the pain in my eyes, but know that on some level Mark sees it anyway. I hate myself for letting him see that I am struggling. We are all tired of doctors being unable to find a cause for the problems, so we just try and carry on regardless. When Logan was born everything changed, because he makes us feel something we haven’t in what seems like forever, hope. So here we are, just the 4 of us in our own little house and our own little world. Trying our hardest to keep our sadness at bay, and go on living our lives. We are doing the best we can, to put one foot in front of the other and take each day as it comes, one day at a time. Until you walk a mile in my shoes you don’t have a clue about me, so maybe before you look at me and make any judgement about me you should just take take the time to talk to me, and who knows I might even surprise you a little.