The end of it, pt 2

We were back in Corpus Christi and when it rains it pours. My mom had died and a week later his great aunt was gone. The next day his grandmother was gone. He made it known how upset he wasn’t there with her. Somehow it was my fault. We were away dealing with the loss of my mother.

I definitely don’t fault him his pain. To lose someone you love hurts. It hurts in a spot so deep inside. But why take it out on me? I was dealing with losing my mom.

As the months went on after losing my mom so many things changed. I never felt more alone. All of my family was somewhere I wasn’t. My husband was happier than I’d ever seen him. He was spending so much time with his family and friends. I tried, but there was never an acceptance or love there. Maybe it was my fault… I felt so empty.

I was slipping deeper and deeper into depression. My old and faithful friend. Work sucked and I felt like I was just walking in a fog. Just going through the motions. I wanted to try again for children.

It was ten months after my mom died and I was feeling so alone and disconnected from my family. I was again disconnected from my husband. So much time would pass without talking or interaction.

I got an email from one of my brothers telling me I had to get on Facebook. I did it and there was my family. Just a click away. I could see what they were up to and it helped me feel connected. I found so many old friends that I hadn’t had in my life! I was able to connect with the friends I had left behind.

I thought this was a good thing, but it only served in the end to make me more homesick and depressed. There they were the people and the places I was forced to leave.

He was always gone fishing or spending his time with family or friends. Sometimes I’d go along and just sit in a corner. No one interacting with me and when I interjected it wasn’t appreciated. Lol I can appreciate that, I can be a hard pill to swallow.

It was about this time that I decided I needed to go home. I had a honest conversation with him. I was sad and lonely, I needed to go home. Texas wasn’t home and never had been. He knew that. His family would never accept me as family. It had been twelve years now and they’d made it abundantly clear.

We decided to go back to Washington. I told him that he was not to come with me if he didn’t mean it. I wasn’t going to force him and he had to be sure.

We returned in September of 2009 and almost immediately my punishment would begin.

He was back in a place where he still had family, mine loved him, and he had friends who adored him. A lot of friends all so happy to have him back. A job doing what it was he liked to do and gave him the schedule he preferred.

He told me we would try again for kids. That he would even open himself up to adoption. Whatever it would take to become a family.

So we worked the overnight shift together. I thought this would make things better. It seemed okay. We were taking my nieces to stay every weekend. Was that to keep us from being alone and intimate?

We had returned to a sexless marriage. I couldn’t understand. He promised! And I had worked on not getting super heavy, even in my sadness. I was trying to get things arranged for adoption and he refused to be a part of it. I told him I couldn’t do it alone and if he’d just give me a little bit of his time… Still nothing.

Then I was offered a job at work. It would mean we wouldn’t share the same days off and be on different shifts. But it would mean a promotion and a raise. No! I don’t want it. I think it will be better for us to stay connected on this shift. He pushed me and pushed me to go for it. I remember asking him if he didn’t want to spend the time with me anymore. This shift would make things harder. He said I needed to go for it. So I did. I gave in to the managers who were begging me and got a new position.

Like I thought it made it harder for us to spend time together.  Sex was rare if it happened at all. It usually happened when I’d cry and ask him why he didn’t love me. When I’d pull away and start wondering if it was worth so many years of my life. Then he’d have sex with me…

Then came the silence. There would be nothing. I would cry and beg to talk. Did he not have anything to say to me anymore? No, no he didn’t. When we were at work and our shifts overlapped I would be so excited to see him. Smile and say hi… He’d walk passed me with no response or reaction. Not acknowledging me whatsoever.

What did I do? What was wrong with me? Why didn’t he love me? Why couldn’t I make anyone stay in love with me? Want to hang out with me? Be my friend? I was that girl and it made me mad.

If he was upset I’d tiptoe around him. Trying to figure it out. We were married in the church and I didn’t want to lose my place.

It wasn’t until later that I found out anyone else was seeing anything between us. He was so loved! No one thought he could do wrong. I was loud and brash and maybe it was my fault I wasn’t well liked.

It was months of no talking, I’m used to that. No sex, I’ve grown use to that. I was incredibly lonely again. And I felt more and more unloved. He couldn’t care less about me.

We only had the one car so at night I’d finish my work and then I’d wait for almost two hours for him to go to lunch. This way he could bring me home. We didn’t live in a very safe area of north Everett. We had to go through two locked doors just to get to our locked apartment.

On the drive home there was no talking. Or at least there was non from his side. I just kept talking and laughing. Making jokes and trying to get him to engage with me. Nothing!

As we pulled up I opened the door and told him I loved him. This didn’t matter he was already speeding away before the door even closed. It was actually the force of him pulling away that closed it.

At almost three in the morning and I was scrambling to get my keys in the door. It hit me right then that he absolutely didn’t love me or have concern for my safety. That he didn’t like me. That he wasn’t wanting a family and for fourteen years I had been tricked.

I couldn’t go on this way any longer. If he was going to do everything he could to keep from giving me the family he promised, what difference did it make if I was alone. It was done and I was ready.

I would be alone. I would take care of myself. I’d already been doing that since I was 18 and taking care of him as well. I’d let go of that dream of children and a husband and home. This was the end…

The end of it, pt 1

So my mom was gone and I felt like an empty shell. My husband arrived the day after she passed and the family prepared to take her home. Back to El Paso to be laid to rest. This made her happy to know in her final days that she would return and be surrounded by the desert she missed for all of those years.

I kept trying to convince myself we were okay. That we would be happy, that he was good to me and I was lucky. I was good at it because that’s what I’d done my entire life.

It was hard to take her home and know that she wouldn’t be close by when I needed her. Plus there was the fact that we would be seeing my mother’s family. This is never easy. Not a lot more than strangers to me. There is never a comfort level there with my mother’s parents or brothers and sisters.

We arrived to a warm welcome and it was nice to be surrounded by people who also felt the loss of my mom. We met Father Eddie who knew my mom as a girl. He would perform her mass and that was such a comfort.

On the day of the funeral we had a police escort through El Paso through the streets and the freeway to take us to the church and then to the cemetery. It was such an awe experience.

When we arrived at the church, the one my mom attended as a girl. The one I had heard so many stories about. There were so many people there to pay their respects and say goodbye.

I was personally overwhelmed by the turnout. My mama who spent so long feeling alone was surrounded by love. Did she know it? Could she see how many people she had touched in her life? My heart didn’t know whether to break or to mend.

It was here at the funeral that I should have started to see the cracks. I should have seen that perhaps my husband didn’t love me the way I loved him.

I was chosen to do the responsorial psalm. I don’t often wear high heels, part of that whole never finding my femininity, but for my mama’s funeral I wore my black dress and black high heels.

I made my way through and held in my tears as best I could. Then it was time to go back to my pew. I stepped down and thought for a moment I was going to fall. Then for a moment I thought I was safe. And finally I fell… My balance was lost and away I went! Fell over and rolled slamming my back into the baptismal font. Moving it back by like three inches!

There I was laying on my stomach. Completely embarrassed and hoping I would just fade into the wind. It felt like I laid there forever, but in reality it was probably less than a minute.

I was laying there and thought to myself, “what if your dress is over your head! Get the fuck up!!” So I did. I sheepishly picked my head up and in an instant I saw father Eddie running to my side. My Uncle Paul was running up the aisle from the very back of the church and my brother Who was in the middle of the pew was trying to climb over to get to me. What I also noticed, but pushed away, was my husband just sitting there staring. At the end of the pew with no obstacles, he just sat there. No worry or concern. No care.

It was embarrassing for me, but it brought levity to a very solemn day. Once I was okay everyone was able to laugh. Father Eddie said my mama tripped me because we needed to laugh and she knew my guardian angel would catch me. When I went back up to talk about my mama I had to be extra dramatic about it. Exaggerate for comedic effect…

My mama hadn’t been gone long. Just over a week and we were all getting together after the funeral. Isn’t it funny how that happens. Someone is gone and everyone is like lets hang out and eat some food. But it’s in those moments that you can feel normal and see how much this person you loved more than life was also loved by so many others!

We learned the day we buried my mom that his great aunt had died. She was almost 100 and she was a very sweet woman. I was sad and felt for him and his family, but I had just lost my MOM! My 56 yo mom. But the focus turned to him and his family and we needed to get home. On our drive from El Paso to Corpus Christi we learned his grandmother died. I couldn’t really relate to that. But we got back and prepared for her funeral. It was all too much. I had just left my mom and now had to switch gears.

At his grandmother’s funeral I was ignored. That is fine, I was use to it. I told them all how sad I was and sorry for their loss. No one was sorry for mine. No one cared…

An Ending

It was early 2008 and my husband decided he didn’t want to be in Washington anymore. After three and a half on and off years, for him anyway, he wanted to go home. 

Because I loved him so much I was willing to give up everything I’d worked towards. What good would it do to force him to be where he was so unhappy. Which I never understood. Unlike his family to me, mine was warm and loving. Always trying to include him and make him feel apart of everything. My parents seriously called him my better half! 

A few years previous, maybe a little less, my brother and I went to Texas to move my parents back up to us. My mom had been pretty sick for quite a while. Too many years of smoking had taken their toll on her. 

She and my father were now alone in Texas and we learned after the fact that she had another hospital stay. That was it! I, and all of my siblings, wanted her up with us. We could look after her and see that she wasn’t left to waste away. 

Now he wanted to go back. Ok. My family was 100% out of Texas now. I had worked hard at my job of seven years to get a good position and I felt like I finally had friends. We went out together every Monday and blew off steam. We had drinks and I could push away all of my sadness. I even felt like I had someone I could call my best friend. I hadn’t had that since I was fourteen and forced to leave when my fathered was transferred.

Everything felt like it was on track, except for starting a family. I had given up on doctors giving me any answers. If it was always going to be shoved aside as you are fat or it’s just hormones, then why bother anymore. My husband wasn’t interested anyway. 

I can’t remember the reasoning, but we settled on the first week of October. Once I went out with the girls, sometime in the summer, and I got so wasted. I never had a sip of alcohol until I was 23, but I sure made up for lost time. My husband was asleep upstairs. He never wanted to go out with me or my friends and spent his time in the room.

Maybe because I was so drunk I tried talking to my mom. I told her how sad and lonely I was. That I was trying so hard to be a good wife and trying to lose the extra weight. I had lost 100 lbs a few years earlier, but with the depressions return so did some of the weight. I told her that he didn’t want to spend time with me or kiss me or even hold my fucking hand! What the hell was I suppose to do?  He was going to force the move back to Texas and I’d be alone again! 

Her response was to tell me to stop being a selfish bitch! That if he heard the things I was saying it might hurt his feelings. And then came the best one! The one that would solidify in my mind all of the doubts I had in my head since I was a child. From as far back as I can remember! You are lucky he puts up with you at all! You aren’t easy to love and get along with, so count your blessings! I’ve never told anyone that before. It hurt me so deep down and sobered me right up! Lol

We got our transfers arranged and I let go of my position at work. I would have to take a few steps backwards, but that was okay. My mom was right. I needed to stop being selfish and think of someone else. It was the end of September 2008 and my life was about to be forever altered.

My father came up the stairs and said my mother couldn’t breath. Should we call an ambulance. Are you fucking kidding me with that question?! The paramedics and fire truck arrived at our house. We answered all of their questions and a way they went with my mama.

I now know hospital procedures with these situations and I wish I didn’t. The family packed into a private waiting room. So many tears and so many times my heart stopped with the thought of losing my mom. After several hours we were allowed to go and see her. A breathing tube in her throat and Ivs were in her arms. Her lung had collapsed again and this time her heart had stopped in the ambulance on her way to the hospital. Thank God for the paramedics. To this day the sound of sirens puts me into a panic and tears flow involuntarily. 

It looked like she was going to be in the hospital a while. I went to the husband and said in light of the situation I don’t want to move. Nothing is permanent and I’m sure the store would keep us. I don’t feel comfortable leaving. It just feels wrong. 

He refuses to budge and reminds me that I made a promise to him. Tells me I have family here that will take care of her. I talk to my mom and she tells me not to worry. Why the hell did I listen to her? She was sick and needed me to be there. 

A little over a week after she went into the hospital I hit the road with my husband, his sister and her husband. Non of them understanding why I was melancholy in the back seat. Why I wasn’t joining in on the fun…

A week or so later my mom had a major surgery and I was the only child not there. My brothers on the east coast and my sister in law were there, but not me. Not my husband who my mom thought could do no wrong! I abondoned her!!!!

Then came my brother’s phone call on October 29 in the early evening. Mama wasn’t going to make it! I needed to get back if I wanted to say goodbye. We immediately went into the store because we we’re suppose to work that night. I won’t be in tonight I told them and I needed to take a leave of absence. My mom is dying and we need to make arrangements.

That’s fine they say and get me the leave packet. I go online and get a last minute plane ticket for the morning. Husband isn’t going to come with me. He’ll look into a flight for the next day. So I leave with only a purse to carry my essentials. This looked good for the airport security people…

I arrived in Seattle and my sister and her boyfriend, later to be husband, picked me up. We went straight to thr hospital and I was given the room in ICU to be alone and say my goodbyes. My mom was out and unresponsive by the time I arrived. She couldn’t say anything back. She couldn’t say she loved or forgave me for leaving. I couldn’t even know if she heard me. I took one break to step outside but otherwise I didn’t leave her side. 

One brother was flying back to say his goodbyes as I had done. The final brother was not able to come back. He called and the phone was put to mama’s ear so he could have his goodbyes. 

We sat with her. We prayed for her. We prayed with the priest who’d been to visit over the last month and had given her her last rites. The whole time I’m sitting next to her, holding her hand. Then comes the nurse that says we have to move her out of ICU. They need the room and will be putting her in another. Of course this angers us! She is dying, can’t that happen in peace?! Plus my brothers were coming from the airport! They were messaged our new location.

When they arrived the final child got to say goodbye. There we were in this tiny little room. Her husband of almost forty years and six of her seven children. He said his goodbyes and I was holding her hand. My head face down on the bed. I was exhausted and hadn’t slept in a day. We all said another Hail Mary for my mama. Then I felt her squeeze my hand! I thought, for just a split second, that we were wrong and she was coming out of it. I picked my head up to look at her and she took in her final breath.  It is a sound I can’t describe but that I’ll never forget. That was it. She was gone and I no longer had a mama. With a finally squeeze of my hand, that I hope was her forgiving me, I now lived in the world motherless. My husband wasn’t there to say good bye or hold me up as I fell apart. I couldn’t leave her and my big brothers finally had to make me leave. 

I found my anger over the changing of the rooms transform to gratitude. We were able to say goodbye in private. Our pain wasn’t on display for everyone to see. 

This ending would change the flow of my journey. I now was facing a world of trying to have children that would never know the love and beauty of their Meemaw. I would have to stand alone when the time came for having my own without my mama to turn to…

The journey begins

So I was 19 and married, finally that dream of motherhood was before me! But there was a problem. My cycle was going wonky again. Maybe it was the drastic weight gain? Maybe it was the stress of being newly married? Maybe it was feeling lonely because my in laws weren’t loving towards me or even friendly. It was abundantly clear that they didn’t care for me or the fact I was now part of the family.

I knew I needed to see someone, so I went to a random doctor I’d found. Again, it was a lot of bullshit talking and then no answers. You are overweight. Slight hormonal issues that are too common to be concerned about.

I let it go and let hope do its thing. If I stay a good girl and do all of the right things. If I’m a good wife and take care of my husband then everything will be good and I’ll be happy and the family will come.

A year passed and I still wasn’t pregnant. Married for almost three years at this point. So I found another doctor to go and see with my worries. This time he was a gentle doctor who talked things over with me. He didn’t just root around and grunt useless answers at me.

You might have a hormonal issue. No big deal to worry about. You just aren’t ovulating as often as a regular woman. You might only ovulate four times a year and that’s okay. So you need to track and find those fertile months. Here’s a prescription for chlomid and I suggest you buy a clear plan easy fertility monitor.

Well the monitor itself was over a hundred dollars at the time and we couldn’t afford that. So I thought we’d just wait until we could afford it. I mentioned something to my parents and they bought us the monitor.

Testing every month began. Looking for that elusive month of fertility. Not that it really mattered because my husband stopped having sex with me for quite some time. It was spuratic at best, but once I was on the chlomid it stopped all together.

I was feeling super down. I wanted so much for a family and at this time we had 10 nieces and nephews. I adored every single one, but with each passing month it was getting harder. My husband was aloof and didn’t want to spend time with me in any way. I thought it was my fault because I still hadn’t given him a child. My mother in law never spoke directly to me, but there was so much questioning as to why I hadn’t.

When I couldn’t take anymore of the the sadness or the isolation anymore. I finally broke down and asked him what it was I was doing wrong. Why didn’t he love me or want to be with me? I thought the point was to have children…

His answer dropped me to the floor. “You’ve become so fat and disgusting. I don’t have a desire to have sex with you anymore.”

I decided right then and there that I was done. I went to visit my brother and his wife in South Carolina. I truly wasn’t sure I would go back. I was stuck in a city and a state that was the closest thing to hell I could imagine.

When I spoke with my mom about the situation she said I needed to give him another chance. That is wasn’t fair to just leave it and walk away. We were married in the church and divorce wasn’t an option.

I spent the summer with family and return home just a day ahead of flying out for my brothers wedding in Washington. This was a family affair that would be added to the many I would attend alone. He never had interest to travel to these things and since my family was so spread out that meant they hardly ever saw him.

When I returned I told him I was done being sad and lonely and if he wasn’t going to love me we were done. This proves what a liar I am!

You see, before meeting my husband I only had one boyfriend. One boy who liked me and wanted me to be more than just a buddy. We were together two years and then he dumped me. He told me I was less than appealing. He didn’t love me and never did. He wasted two years with me and didn’t know why. These words crushed me and reaffirmed my feelings of worthlessness. I was one of those girls! I still am in a lot of ways. I don’t see value in myself where others are concerned.

So even though I said this was it and I wouldn’t take anymore, I was lying. If I left then there would be no one to want me. I should feel lucky to have him. Those feelings were validated time and time again over the years as I voiced any complaint about him to my mom.

For the next ten years I kept it inside. I was alone all the time. He didn’t want to do things with me or my family. But like my father was before him, he had an ease and a charm that made people love him. I was introverted and harder to get to know, so I was obviously the problem in the marriage. Through the next ten years when I would get to a breaking point the promise of children was brought back.

He even said he would be okay with adopting. And I believed him! Until I wanted to start the process and he refused to be a part of it. For fifteen years of my life I was tied down to this. Sad and alone and chasing false promises. He even admitted to me that he didn’t want to have children. He wanted to hold on to me and he knew that was the way! How stupid am I?!

This has always been my soft spot. My point of manipulation. And I fall for it hook, line and sinker…

And then came the babies

I was seventeen the first time I became an aunt. He was perfect and beautiful and so smart! And it was the first time I got to see the difference between your parents and your nieces/nephews/child’s grandparents!

Sounds silly I am sure, but they are two different sets of people. This was something I had a hard time with as a seventeen year old. I grew up feeling inferior to my siblings. Whether they can see or understand that or not.

They were smarter, funnier, had better musical ability. They seemed to have no problems making friends or being accepted. I wanted to be a singer/songwriter and it was explained to me that I did not have a gift for song. I wanted to be a dancer and it was explained that another sibling was more naturally suited to that dream. One of my brothers is an artist and that was front and center of my mother’s pride. Why couldn’t I have a tangible gift. One brother is ridiculously funny and I always wanted to have just a fraction of that funniness. Problem being I  terrible with new people and I could never EVER get up in front of strangers and riff.

I thought I’d like to be a gymnast, but I developed way to early to be gymnast or ballerina! Lol. I thought maybe I’ll be a teacher. Then it was explained to me that I didn’t have the social skills or the patience. Corporal punishment of students wasn’t a thing any more. Maybe something practical. Something that would afford me the least amount of interaction with people. I’ll be an accountant, but it was explained to me that my math skills were not up to par.

But more so and before any of those things there was my desire for motherhood! And my desire to be a writer! I’ve always had great awareness and an imagination that can become so real. Writing was my love! Reading and writing. The shy nerdy kid who would find friends in her books. Anne Shirley was my best friend and Atticus Finch was my hero.

I shared a writing that I thought was good, but let’s get serious I was like 8. It was then that my mom told me that I might not be suited for writing. But I should consider children’s stories. I could probably do that. My brother was the one with the real writing talent. Somehow everything to me became a competition with my siblings. And I always felt myself coming up short.

As a matter of fact I received an award in the fifth grade for spelling. One of the most embarrassing moments for me. All because when they called out my name there was a roar of laughter coming from the audience of parents, teachers and students. The laughter emminated from my very own mother! When people looked at her agast she explained that there was no way I deserved the award… Mary is a terrible speller! 😢😢 Confidence has never been something I possessed. And with every reality check my mother, father or whatever family member or teacher gave me it chipped farther and farther away.

So to have this next generation come into our lives and see my parents reaction! Suddenly it was playing and make believe and support! Encouragements that I struggle to remember in my childhood. They were so in love, as I was also, and there was no doubting it.

I did not grow up with extended family. Aunts and Uncles, cousins and grandparents was a foreign concept for me. While we shuffled from one station to the next there were visits. I knew of their existence and they knew of mine. A birthday never went by without a birthday card and check from my mother’s parents. There was no family on my father’s side. So this was all so new to me.

Zachary was the first! I fell in love and was excited for my family to grow. To grow together and to have that relationship I was always so sad to have missed growing up. I wanted to be a part of my nieces and nephew’s lives. To make sure they knew how amazing they are and see that they can do anything they put their hearts into.

He stood alone for a little while. When I got married at 19 he was still the one and only. But that would soon change. Less than six months later we would be blessed with a baby girl and four months after that a baby boy! Zachary was no longer alone and the flood gates had opened.

Helps explain a thing or two…

So I went through my teenage years dealing with these horrible cycles and when my sister started hers she had the pains! We were both sure we would never have children. With my childhood I came to just expect the worse of everything. Sure that goodness wouldn’t follow.

I didn’t have a horrible childhood or anything. To say that would be a bit unfair to my parents. But it wasn’t a good one either. Mostly my fault I am sure of that. I was a difficult child to handle.

When I say that I’m extremely introverted and shy most people can’t see it. That is to say they can’t remember it. Once I’m comfortable with a person all bets are off! It’s me full throttle and there’s no looking back! I can be a large personality.

For many years of my life I wouldn’t even pick my head up in public or in front of adults all together. My mom used to tell me a story about a neighbor we had in housing. Every time he would come around, I had a Spidey sense for adults being around, my head would drop and he hadn’t seen my face. After a year or so they were shipping out. She said on his last day she was talking to him and he was saying how sad he was that in all this time he’d never seen my face. The great mystery, what’s under all of that very blonde hair! Lol

As they were talking I approached with my head down as usual. I tugged on her shirt and she turned to ask me what I needed. I picked my head straight up and asked her for a cookie. At this point our neighbor got to see my face for the first and last time! He couldn’t understand why I never picked my head up. He thought I was so beautiful. I always liked this story as a kid. I felt it summed me up in a nutshell. Lol

Besides being shy and introverted I was extremely sensitive. A gentle soul who wanted to just love on those around me. I always felt things so deeply and would read into everything around me. Put that together with having a strong opinion and anger management issues! This can make a person difficult to deal with. My feelings were always so strong. The good and the bad, just engulfing me.

And now the trifecta… I was stubborn! When I say stubborn I mean, Good God I’m going to throw this person against the wall! I refused to budge or be bullied. Even the slightest feeling of being bullied and I would dig my heels in! Try to budge me!!!!

My father was not a very nice man to his children growing up. Hard for people to imagine because he was so charming outside of the house. He was horribly physically abusive, most especially to my older brothers, but each of us felt more than any child should. But worse, for me anyway, was the psychological and emotional abuses. Support and encouragement were never on the menu. The biggest thing I wanted was to be a wife and mother, but there were so many other things I thought to do and there was always some reason why I couldn’t do it. Some reason I would be no good at it or just straight up fail. I let the words and discouragement engulf me and I washed away with it. I’ll always be upset with myself for the things I had ability to change and just let people discourage me. This, this infertility, is something I had no control over.

Here we go!

This is all new and crazy for me. But I need somewhere to just vomit my feelings. No one has to read anything without desire to do so and I can be as brutally honest as I’d like.

It has been a long, long journey and there is still no light in sight. I feel it wearing on me and I know my Remy is feeling it too.

For me it started almost 19 years ago. I was only 18, but I had met a man who claimed I was the greatest and he wanted to have children with me. Oh boy was I a dummy! Fell for that hook, line and sinker. I use to be very old fashioned and so it was marriage first and children second.

This is something I’ve wanted since I was four years old! Literally wanted to grow up and be Donna Reed and have a house full of children!

But being extremely shy and introverted I’ve never been great at making friends. I grew up with 5 brothers and 1 sister, so feminity was not something I ever found. So on top of not making friends easily, boys did not see me as a girl. Not as someone they wanted to spend their time with in a romantic way. This all set me up for my greatest mistake.

At 18 he wanted to have children and be with me forever. Naive, I just jumped! That age is still so young and stupid! Not that any 18 year old will see that they are stupid. We all think we are so smart and worldly, but in reality douchey idiots.

I said yes and put aside that his family openly disliked me. Not long after saying yes I found that I went from a size 8 to a plus size 18 in a matter of two months! My cycle went crazy, but it had never been easy.

When I was just passed 11 years old I started my cycle. Something I wasn’t comfortable with and since my mom had had a partial hysterectomy when she was just 28, after the birth of my younger sister, she no longer had a cycle. That meant when mine began there was no privacy or hiding it. It was out there for everyone to see and comment on.

They weren’t easy from the start. I didn’t  have the cramps, the aches and the pains. What I did have was a cycle that didn’t know it should have a stopping point. The summer before I turned 13 my cycle began and refused to stop. All summer long, three long months! Finally I got my mom to hear me and she decided to take me to see a doctor.

My father was in the Navy, so to the naval hospital we went. The doctor talked to me separately first. He asks the 12 yo if she is sexually active! Seriously?! My now famous sarcasm came flying out of my mouth. He assured me what ever I told him was private and he wouldn’t share it with my mom. No, the 12 yo isn’t sexually active! Give me a break! Plus the fact that he was a LIAR! He totally told my mom everything I said!

On that day, at the age of 12, I underwent my first pap smear! I’ve always been a suck it up and deal kind of girl, but as my mom held my hand and bawled like a baby I too cried. It was awkward and uncomfortable to be on display on that table. With a not very sensitive doctor rooting around my world.

The worst part of this experience was the results. There weren’t any. Oh she’s just a young girl and her body is adjusting. Take this birth control to stop the bleeding and let time do its thing. That was it…

I’m going to pause here because it’s late and I need some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day and new stories to tell.