Monthly Archives: November 2012



Fuck I miss him.

It’s only been 19 hours. How the fuck am I going to last a month like this?

I’m a hormonal pregnant mess. I cried when I took the empty milk glass that was sitting in “his spot” to the sink. It was the only thing he left there and I had to clean it up. And now his spot is empty. And I’m crying again. UGH.



It’s for the best. It will make us better. It will make us more solid. And more grateful. It’s a great opportunity. It’s a dream he’s had for years. It’s so fucking important it makes me sick. But none of that matters when I’m lying in bed alone, feeling my baby girl kick and wishing I had his warm arms around me. His shoulder to lay my head on. His amazingly soft lips to kiss.


I hope they’re worth it.

I love them to death. I really do. I have since before they even knew I existed. They are the reason I pushed for this. They are the reason I think this is so important. I just hope they have a TINY clue. I hope they have empathy for me. I hope they appreciate this sacrifice – even if just for a fleeting moment.

This is in the top three hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I can’t really rank the three, but…

1) Giving my eldest son up for adoption.

2) Accepting my son back into my life after the passing of his adoptive mother/my aunt.

3) Sending my husband off for about four months (with two weeks to look forward to) to pursue his dream while I stay here with our three children (and one of the way) to wrap things up with our home and finances.

AND THIS WOULD BE SO MUCH EASIER IF IT WERE JUST A SURE THING! But I can’t fucking get a loan. I’m owed near $14,000 – that I should of gotten nearly three years ago – and I can’t get a fucking loan for the $3,000 we desperately need in the next two weeks. $3,000 to pay off his last debt, to gain his freedom and set up his new home. WHY is that so hard? I can’t even sell the copier – our one real asset – to get close to that!

I take two showers a day and just sit under the water and try not to feel. I’m not motivated to get dressed or go out. I have THREE FUCKING KIDS THAT ARE RELYING ON ME. I feed them, and talk to them, and do all the things they NEED. But I should be doing more. I know I should.

It’s just hard.

And it’s only the first day.