Friday, May 11, 2012

Grumpy ranting


I would have been due 3 weeks from yesterday. 

Today I came into work and overheard a conversation about one co-worker's brand new niece. Then they started talking about how office pregnant girl (OPG) is finding out the gender today. Another co-worker joins in and starts talking about his wife's pregnancy (now 30 weeks along). Everyone is talking about baby clothes and baby things and how exciting of a day this is for OPG. As I sit in my office crying. Sickly, I wanted someone to come in and see me.

I find that lately I want to bring up my loss all the time. One example: I was at a fundraiser and was in polite small talk with the mother of a friend of mine (who is marrying an even closer friend of mine in November). We know each other but not well. I found myself saying "When I was pregnant" because you know what? I was pregnant. I was never a mother, but I sure as hell was pregnant. That it ended badly doesn't change that fact. So I was talking about that and said "I ended up losing the baby at 19 weeks". Just as if I was saying "I like cheese" (Which I do... a lot). And she says "my daughter-in-law lost one at 20 weeks". How refreshing. I was glad someone acknowledged that late losses happen.

Other Blogs, Part 2  

Okay, I know that I mentioned here that I like to stumble around the blogs of the babylost and friends club and also that I had a rant about something I find there. Today is rant day since I am not feeling very happy and ranting suits me. I know this is going to come across as rude and probably judgmental. If you want to think I'm all sunshine and roses please skip.

I want stop here and take the space to say that, though I know I can come across as anti-CTT, I am not. I'm not a hypocrite. I don't slam your decision, I think that is wrong for those of us in the shit situation of poor prenatal diagnosis to pick on one another.  In nearly every situation is support those that CTT, but I have exceptions for everything (except that I have exceptions for everything- haha).  I also don't support TFMR in every case, just so you know.

(Gone yet people who want to keep loving me? Okay, moving on)

Today is about the anger I feel when I read the sanctimonious drivel of those that continued pregnancies and have children who are seriously disabled/ suffering or dead because of a fatal, prenatally diagnosed condition and then go on to bash people who made the choice to terminate or, in their language, kill their baby. This IS NOT about people who don't bash what I did and CTT, and yes, you have to say something to the effect of "I am anti-TFMR" for this to be about you. In good, true Bostonian fashion I say to them- Go Fuck Yourself. (Told you you wouldn't like this!) 

I have yet to find a blog of a parent who CTT a baby with T18 who wasn't preaching religion at me and saying that it is their deity's blessing on them to give them a very sick and dying child. Then saying that anyone who TFMR is evil and a sinner and going against deity's will, dooming themselves to hell.  I have yet to find the blog of a parent who TMFRed a baby with T18 who was preaching that anyone who CTT is evil and going to burn in hell for continuing a doomed pregnancy.  

I find it very sad that that most judgmental people I've come across on the internet about this issue are those that claim to follow the teachings of Jesus. Jesus, who said "Love thy neighbor as thyself". They judge the TFMR parents and very few people judge them. They say we're killers, and we say about them "they did what they thought was best". You know what? I'm judging you. I think you're hypocrites. I think you are scared and hurt and chose to defend your decision by bringing others down.  You defend your decision to CTT by citing a book that you don't bother to follow in the smaller moments of life. Judgement isn't for you to pass (according to your book) it's for your deity. Perhaps you should start back at the beginning, you missed some points.

They call her a killer, and they call her a sinner, and they call her a whore.
Everlast, What It's Like

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