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Nor breath nor motion

Why, hello. And welcome! Welcome to my doldrums. I apologize for not fixing up the place, but there's been so much to do: sitting around, staring into space, muttering at the dog, attempting to nap. Making a sandwich and then halfway through forgetting about the sandwich and wondering why I'm standing there with a butter knife. Like that! So much.

Would you like some tea? I think I have some, somewhere over here. Of course making tea means heating up water and finding the tea bags and. What? Was I saying something?

Why are you jumping on the couch? No, no, that's not a ferret scurrying out from under the couch to attack you. That's a dust bunny composed of the intermingling of Charlie and Izzy's fur. Sorry about that. I would have vacuumed but the vacuum cleaner is so heavy, and who can figure out how to plug stuff in? It's like you need a science degree for that. With the larger prong and then the other one. Why not just one prong? I ask myself that more than you would imagine.

And yes, I was wearing these sweatpants the last time I saw you, thanks for asking. Stained, are they? Huh. None of my pants fit me, if you must know. This is frustrating. But then, at least I don't have a stupid ass face like you do.

Whoa! Where did that come from? I'm sorry. Your face is not even a little assy. Pants are a sensitive topic for me. As are shirts. Also, life. Can you just sit over there and avert your eyes?

I know the phone is ringing. It does that. It will stop, don't worry.

Also, just so you know, if you ask me how I'm feeling I may start screaming and not stop until you leave. I'm just getting a little weary of that question, is all. I feel like having a sandwich, is how I feel. If only I could work through how that's done, again.

Time for you to go? Lucky! I'm glad at least one of us can enter and depart as we please. If it's anyone, it should be you, and I mean that. Sorry about the, you know, dust bunnies, and the insults. Next time you come, we'll find some cups, and then we'll drink some water, maybe with ice cubes! Now if you don't mind, I'm kind of wiped out. You can open the door yourself, right? I thought so. Next time you're here, you'll have to show me how that's done.

Comments

i'm so sorry, alice. so sorry.

I'm so very sorry for your loss.

There are no words. Only sleep. And naps. And TV if you're into that...Your mind can stay blank that way. Please accept my sympathy once again. OH~ Hugs sometimes work too. Sending one your way now~

Sending you lots of love and holding you very close to my heart...

Mourning is such a heavy task that none of us is really equipped for. You have described your experience of it beautifully. I hold you and your pain in my heart, with tenderness.

i know. everybody does have an ass face when you feel that way. don't take it back. just hang in there and try to ask for help when you need it.

I think you have an amazing way of telling your story so that it speaks both to people experiencing loss and to people who are trying to help those experiencing it. You are invaluable to us out here in this impersonal vastness of the internet. Except it's not so impersonal now is it? I wish I could be one of your in person flesh type friends who could clean your house and make you dinner and sit and stare with you for awhile.

I know just how you feel. ((hug))

Thinking of you.

My face actually IS kind of assy...
I hope the clouds clear for you soon. Because water with ice would really be great next time.

My face actually IS kind of assy...
I hope the clouds clear for you soon. Because water with ice would be great next time.

It gets better. Eventually. You are, however, completely permitted to wallow for just as long as you need. Hang in there.

Oh, Alice. I'm so very sorry.

I know how you feel, I've been there twice, it is really hard, be strong, and soon the sun will shine for you, because between those hard moments a beautiful sunshine came to light every day since the first loss, be strong, I won't tell you to forget about it, 'cause you never will, but keep it close to your heart, life is still beautiful!

It still sucks and it will continue to suck. But, you found the computer and switched it on and typed something ... and reached out. And we're reaching back.

Sounds like things are pretty crappy for you right now. I hope things get better soon. Happy healthy thoughts sent your way.

Holy cannoli. To a word, that is EXACTLY how I felt after my early miscarriage, except I don't have one tenth your eloquence.

It does get better. It takes time, and grief, but the ache dulls and the world brightens, incrementally, like the days getting longer after the winter solstice. But what I did not realize until I was there is that I did not want it to get better. I wanted it to never have been bad, and that is totally different.

Love and light to you, Alice.

Maybe talk to Dooce? Or Dooce's therapist? No harm in letting someone try to reach in and pull you out. Plenty of willing reachers in the world, who happen to love you.

Sending you a big hug and a sandwich, already made.

I am so sorry. I am going through the same thing right now, and I hate every minute. I can't tell you how much I appreciate being able to read your words that so perfectly explain how I'm feeling--but I also can't say how much I wish you didn't have to write them, that you didn't know.

You are in my thoughts every day.

Thinking about you!

It's not the first time my face has been called assy. Here. You sit down right over there and make yourself comfy in those stinky pants. I'm going to make you your favorite sandwich, pour you some water (with ice), and put 52 ponytail holders in your hair (because you called my face assy). Afterwards, I'll deal with those dust bunnies while you take a well-deserved nap. When you wake up? Burritos with homemade guacamole! Or lasagna with a really snobby salad. I'll let you choose. Take all the time you need.

All of this, and yet you still write brilliantly! Here's to writing brilliantly while feeling much better in the hopefully very near future.

Oh Sweetie, I'm so, so very sorry. I'd make you a sandwich and get you a glass of water with ice if I were close by. I'd also do some laundry for you. Clean laundry always helps a little.

I'm so sorry Alice. I wish we could all take turns coming over and caring for you. Best I can offer is a long distance hug and a fervent wish for light and love to you and your family.

I'm so sorry Alice. I has a miscarriage a few weeks ago as well and am struggling to keep my head about water. Also apparently my insurance company decided to share my "happy news" with several corporations and suddenly I find myself deluged with Babies R Us and Pampers coupons. Last night I got a Lamaze magazine in the mail and totally lost it.

Anyway, just wanted to vent and let you know you are not alone.

Poor Alice! Be nice to yourself. In the midst of your pain you are still adorable and funny. Even when you are pissy you are cute.

The dust bunnies are also taking over my house. One just hauled the puppy under the sofa and is making a snack of him as we speak.

Take care. If California wasn't so far away, I'd totally come over and slaughter your dust bunnies, make you a sandwich and a nice cuppa tea.


I'm so sorry, Alice. I know those sweatpants so well.

Dear Alice – It’s not possible for any of us to make this experience less painful for you, Scott, Henry and other members of your family, but please know that there are many, many people across the ‘net who would, if only they could. Take good care.

Susan

There's nothing wrong with the way you're feeling. It's your grief, to be worked through on your own timeline. Don't let anyone tell you different. Or better yet, tell us and we'll all come over and handle it for you. Many hugs and deepest sympathy for your loss. As long as you keep putting one foot in front of the other, you'll make it through.

I just today caught up with what has happened, and had to say I'm sorry. I had an OB appt just a few days after yours, at nearly the exact same point in my pregnancy. No heartbeat, horrifying ultrasound. It is so hard for other people to say the right thing and even I don't know the best thing to say. Many times over the last week I have heard, "The exact same thing happened to so-and-so's wife," or "I had one too," and so I know there is very little consolation in that. But when I read about your experience today, so similar to mine, I don't know. I just wanted to reach out and...touch a hand, internet-ly. Take care of yourself.

Yea, I remember those sweatpants, too. God, I hated having to go to work and pretend nothing happened. (No one knew yet). But my boss was a single guy, I'm not exactly about to tell him what happened so I could skip meetings and sit around the house staring into space. Looking back, it probably helped going to work, giving me something to do, but it sucked so hard. (I guess the choice between sucky work and sucky talking about it with my boss, sucky boss was worse. :P)

I felt EXACTLY like this after my two miscarriages, and could never articulate it to anyone. I'd like to turn back the clock and send this post to every person who expected normal behavior from me back then.

I hope you're being well taken care of right now. And I wish people would treat miscarriage like all other deaths, and bring over a friggin' casserole, for pete's sake.

I just found you today. I was looking up ways to help my 3 year old son eat, and read your hillarious entry with Henry and the cinnamon and the chart from a few years back... I've added you to my fav's and will visit every day. My heart goes out to you in this terrible sorrowful time. I wish I could say the perfect thing that would take some pain away, but I know there's no such thing. Time will heal, but there will always be a scar. Just remember that your family and friends love you.

I don't mind being told by you that I have a stupid ass face, or anything else right now.

Wishing you minimal chaos in other parts of your life at the moment, while you mourn.

Mm. I know. I'm sorry.

I can't say I know how you feel because I've never been in this situation. I can say I am so very sorry and I wish there was something I could do. You touch a lot of people on a daily basis and we are all thinking of you.

As for the dust bunny? Name him George.

These were the most lyrical words I have read in a long time. And I read a lot of Vonnegut.

I have no unique words to say that haven't been said already.
So..

(((( Alice ))))

For the record, I forget how to do things all the time too, and I have no excuse. I'm just kind of like that! So you're in good company!

So many paths that wind and wind
When just the art of being kind
Is all this sad world needs.
-Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I'll pray that just the right kind of kindness comes your way. At just the right times, in just the right doses.

Sandwiches are overrated. Sweatpants rock, particularly ones with stains and stink. BREATHING can be a difficult task.

Hugs to you.

A reader with an assy mug and a lot of understanding.

oh...i have nothing. Feel better soon, Alice.

Talking is just so exhausting, so don't worry if I don't speak. But you feel free to go right ahead...oh.....what did you ask? Am I LISTENING? HELL NO! That takes energy too.

I wish for you peace, Alice. And a deli that delivers.

Love to you from this coast...

Just to let you know... it's okay to hate women with infants. It's even okay to hate the babies. It passes, with time. Many hugs, unless you're not in the mood.

Dear Alice - I am sending wishes for peace your way.
I am so sorry - please take care of yourself and know that you will heal.
God Bless.

I know you're in a shitty place right now but I loved this post. It has a universality to which all depressed people can relate.

Why not just one prong? Indeed.

Talking is just so exhausting, so don't worry if I don't speak. But you feel free to go right ahead...oh.....what did you ask? Am I LISTENING? HELL NO! That takes energy too.

Oh, sweetie. I am so sorry.

I'll show myself out. But here, before I go, a box of chocolates and some tequila. For you. I can't think of anything else that might help.

Hang in there.

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