Well, I’ve decided to bail on my DBT group.

At one point in my life, I qualified for a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, but I no longer do. This isn’t just my opinion, I have it from a psychiatrist. So, I went into the group thinking maybe I’d get something out of it, but I’m just not. I don’t have the problems they’re addressing, and I’m just wasting my time and theirs.

I shouldn’t have said yes in the first place, but I’m bad on the spot, and my anxiety kicks in, and I say yes to get it over with. Anxiety is something I do still have a problem with, but I’m hoping to find a good group for that, since one-on-one therapy is apparently not an option.



Well, it’s five days after the procedure and I’m still recovering. The pain isn’t really worse than a period, but I’m used to cramping for two days, not five. Right now I’ve got a headache and depression, but I can’t tell if either of those are related, since I’ve got depression anyway. Called out sick from my DBT group – I feel bad, it’s only my second session, but I’m just not up for it today. Looking forward to this all being over.


The big day

So, today was the big day. Found out I was pregnant on July 13th and it’s taken me this long to be able to get the abortion. Two ultrasounds, blood work, pee tests, all that great stuff. Learned that only one doctor in my city performs abortions, and only at the hospital in the next city over, so Canada’s laws might be some of the most favorable in the world when it comes to accessing abortion, but that doesn’t always make it easy to access.

Woke up at 6:30, had to be at the hospital for 8:45 for a 10:45 surgery. Had a brief moment in the cab on the way there where I thought I would burst into tears (not because of what was about to happen, but because of the realization that the last three times I’d been to that specific hospital my grandfather had died, my mother had died, and I’d had a miscarriage), but I got myself together and avoided the embarrassment. Got checked in, the wait was long and boring, but not as long and boring as waiting a month and a half since the day I found out, heh. On the plus side, I learned I’ve lost 12lbs since my last weighing. As usual, the nurse had trouble with the IV, and after what felt like a beating and five minutes of pumping my fist, she finally got the IV in. I think I’ve lost track of the amount of times I’ve been told by a medical professional that I have “bad veins”.

They wheeled me to the OR around 10:45 and did the usual surgery checks. I got a general anesthetic, for which I was grateful, as I didn’t really want to be awake for the procedure. With my anxiety, I expected I’d fight the anesthetic, but I only remember three deep breaths before waking up 30 minutes later in OR recovery. 15 minutes later they took me to recover on the ward where I was rejoined by my husband. Got some pills for the pain and some pills to prevent infection, and was discharged just after 12:30.

So I’m home now, and reflecting on everything. I feel lighter now, the invisible weight I was carrying on my shoulders is gone. Looking back, I’ve only cried once during this entire ordeal, and that briefly, and I don’t really expect to cry now. I can’t say there isn’t part of me that’s sad, and wishes things could have been different. A third child probably would have been nice, but we’re not prepared financially, we’re not prepared mentally, and this is the reason I had a tubal ligation in the first place. Mostly I just feel relieved, because it’s over and I can move on. A lot of people helped me through this time and I thank them all and give them my love.

I’ve always been pro-choice, and I am so, so glad that this procedure is legal and safe, and that it was an option for me. But I hope I never have to go through it again.


37 and pregnant

I am an extremely private person, and I debated whether or not I should even post this. My mind is made up; it was made up long before this, when it was only a hypothetical, something I never thought would actually happen. Who expects their tubal ligation to fail? I knew the stats, I knew the risks, but I still never thought it would happen to me. Heh. I never thought I’d have to say those words: “I never thought it would happen to me”. Other people say that.

I can’t keep this baby. My husband and I discussed it dozens of times over the years. We don’t have the money. We don’t have the patience. We just don’t have enough of anything. Our family is perfect the way it is. We’d be irresponsible to have a third child, and it’s true, we would be. For us, it’s just the wrong choice.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to think about this. I’m not sure what I feel about this. Mostly I feel numb, just busying myself with anything I can to keep my mind off of it until I can get to the doctor. Sometimes I laugh, because it’s just so bizarre. I’m pregnant? I keep checking the test as if it will change this time. Sometimes I’m sad, because this is harder than I thought it would be when it was just a hypothetical. Part of me wishes things could be different. I don’t have any ethical qualms about my decision, that isn’t bothering me, and I don’t expect it to once the procedure is done. I just wish… what do I wish? I don’t know. I just wish, just a little bit, that things could be different, even though I had a tubal ligation in the first place because I know I’m done with having kids. I know. So why is this harder, now that it’s real?

Friends told me it’s ok to grieve. I’m not there yet, it’s real but it’s still not real. It’ll be real when I see the doctor, maybe. When I schedule the appointment, maybe it’ll all be real then. Right now I’m still numb, there’s no laughter, there are no tears, there’s just me sitting here in front of my keyboard trying to distract myself. It’s not working.



I haven’t written anything new in a long, long time. It isn’t writer’s block, I could overcome that. It’s depression. It’s no motivation and my brain fogging up any time I sit down in front of a word processor, or attempting to do anything of consequence, frankly. It’s anything I think of seeming dead and lifeless and wholly uninteresting. Fuck depression, man. Just, seriously.


Surprise, I’m pregnant!

No, not really. I’d honestly rather pull my uterus out with my own two hands than be pregnant again. I’m not pregnant but it is an appropriate way to start my post.

Today is April Fool’s Day, and once again my Facebook feed is filled with people asking that most important of questions: “Is it appropriate to joke about being pregnant?” Well, most are not so much asking the question as stating flat out that it isn’t, and I just can’t agree with them.

Is it lazy comedy? Yes, absolutely. Is it offensive, disrespectful or insensitive? Hell no.

Look, I empathize with people who have suffered loss or are struggling with infertility. I don’t claim to know what it is like to suffer a late term loss or the loss of a living child, nor do I know what it is like to struggle for years to have a child, though I have had two early miscarriages and I did go through a period when I was first married where I struggled to get pregnant before we stopped trying for a few years. Even if I didn’t have those experiences I’m still capable of empathy, though I’m sure some out there, should they read this, will feel I’m lacking.

That said, I just do not believe that making a joke about my own life affects you in a meaningful way. If I were to make a joke about being pregnant (which I wouldn’t because reread the bit about the uterus), I’m not in any way mocking the struggles or losses anyone else has suffered. I’m just not. When my mother died, I wanted nothing more than to have her back, just for even one day. I’d have given anything to have her back. And I will be honest, it stung to see or hear people complaining about their mothers, things that seemed petty to me. But I recognized that it was my issue, that their complaints weren’t mocking my loss, their jokes weren’t aimed at me. After I miscarried the first time, it was hard to see people enjoying what I wanted and lost, but I recognized that it was my issue. It would not have occurred to me, even then, to take offense at someone joking about being pregnant. The world does not stop because I suffer, and other people’s lives very seldom actually affect me.

Now I grant that I have a skewed sense of humor, and I find great catharsis in laughing at what makes many others wince. Today as I was arguing about this, someone said it was no different than making a joke about cancer, which isn’t appropriate because people have cancer. I’m the kind of person that, if I had cancer, I would be the first to be cracking jokes about cancer. I don’t need to have cancer to know this, I already laugh and joke about things that touch on traumas I’ve suffered in my life. Humor is how I deal with life, especially the most challenging parts of it, and I will never apologize for that.

I want to be sensitive, but the larger part of me just wants to say “get over it” if someone else’s joke about their own life bothers you that deeply. If someone mocks your loss, if someone mocks your inability to conceive, then they’re assholes and fuck ’em, but they are not doing that when they joke about being pregnant.


“If I can do it…”

As I was arguing with some people online, as I am wont to do, I realized something that really annoys me. People using the phrase “if I can do it, anyone can”, or any variant including spouses/aunts/uncles/neighbors/dogs/other four legged friends.

Unless it’s something like “I have no legs and I managed to walk to the store, so if I can do it, anyone can”, you probably shouldn’t say it, and even then, you should use most people, not anyone. We all have our unique, individual challenges and circumstances, and judging people based on what we can do or what people we know can do is generally a pretty shitty thing to do. No, just because you managed to do it does not mean that anyone can or should be able to do it, and we need to recognize this if we’re ever able to develop compassion and empathy for our fellow human beings.