Stupid Is As Stupid Does

Continued from previous post...

Or, the part in the story where I lose my fucking shit and act like an asshole. I am not sure how this story fit into three days, but my Swiss cheese brain insists that H1 was only out to sea for that long. After I had confirmation from the hospital that my baby was dead my 21-year old brain decided that the best way to deal with everything was to head to the bar. There have been times in my life where I have drank way too much (hello to my 15-year old self!) but this was not one of them. Since moving to Virginia in April, I had found a job and started working full-time. That was about the extent of my exciting life. My job? Oh thanks for asking, I would have forgot/blocked it out. I was a manager of a portrait photography studio. Where I took pictures of babies all fucking day. Less than a year after giving up my first-born son. Dumb ass!

Hmm...okay I was at the bar, drunk and being ridiculous when I found a nice young man that took me home with him. Except we were both wasted and for the first and last time in my life I drove drunk. He left his car at the bar. Obviously we weren't screwing like weasels because uh? miscarriage? but I remember being a drunken fool, sleeping in his bed, and crying my fucking eyes out. The next day I drove home and found a freaked out husband.

He came home in the morning, and I expected him in the afternoon. When he couldn't find me he talked to the neighbor who informed him that I had lost the baby. He thought I had flipped out and left town so he called EVERYONE we knew to try and find me. Those conversations went something like this: "Hi this is H1. Do you know where Sam is? She miscarried while I was out to sea and now I can't find her." ... "Oh, yes, she was pregnant. We hadn't told anyone yet." My uncle in New York? Called him. My mother in California? Called her. Everyone in between? Yep! Thanks H1! You're the best!!!

There was one final outside insult to be borne through all of this misery: my mother-in-law. You see, she is a fucking lunatic. Back in the day, she used to call H1 and myself at midnight, one or two in the morning to chat. We didn't answer the phone because we had these tricky little things called jobs and we slept during the night. In my MIL's mind, we didn't pick up the phone because we were out partying all night. THEREFORE I didn't have a miscarriage in her fucked up waste of a mind. I waited until H1 went out to sea and had an abortion because being pregnant was detrimental to my kickass social life.

The cunt instructed H1 to check out my discharge papers that stated I had a "spontaneous abortion" and there you fucking have it. It said abortion, right? FUCK. I think I convinced H1 that a spontaneous abortion is big people talk for a miscarriage but that fucking bitch never believed it. If someone came up to me and said, "I am going to kill these innocent people unless you pick one person for me to kill instead," I would pick that woman in a heartbeat. And at this point I bet her two sons would applaud the decision.

That was the last of people being fucked up about my miscarriage, but my super cool psyche decided that the ride wasn't over. I was convinced that my baby had died because I gave my son up for adoption, that I didn't deserve a child, that I was being punished, and I would never carry a child to term. This is why I have the label, "some fucked up shit."