I’m not usually so mean

I don’t really wish ill on anyone, especially not on other moms-to-be. I wouldn’t wish this pain on my worst enemy, I really truly wouldn’t. However, when I saw a very pregnant mom yesterday in the hospital hallway, waddling around dreamily with her hand on her belly, I desperately wanted her to wander right off a cliff. Or go up in a puff of smoke. I wanted to scream at her, push her, make her hurt. It’s an awful, awful feeling. I know that it’s not HER I want to hurt, it’s life, it’s fate, it’s the experience. I’m so angry. I want to hurt something. I want everyone and everything to be as miserable as me. I want to make someone PAY. I want justice. I want the death penalty. I want to mount heads on spikes and line the roads with them. I’m so desperately, tortuously, full of rage.

Author: Mother of All Things

Mother by fostering, adoption, and marriage... wife to my best friend... Bay area critical care nurse... travel in my blood, reading in my bones, clean food on my mind!

3 thoughts on “I’m not usually so mean”

  1. I remember when I went through months (almost a year and a half, actually) of those exact feelings. And, if I were honest with myself, I still feel that way at times. It’s hard. It sucks. Nothing can really take away that pain that we experience. I’m so sorry that you’re hurting. I wish there was something that I could do.

  2. Found your blog from LFAC. I have been TTC for four years now. I have never been pregnant. My husband and I just had our first IUI and I received a negative beta today. I don’t know what it is like to lose a precious little baby, but I understand the rage. It’s amazing, the things we have to go through. Thinking about you.

  3. I get it. Oh dear God, do I get it. Yesterday, after being told that I’m about to miscarry at 11.5 weeks, I got stopped behind one school bus after another on the long drive home.

    The Rolling Stones’ song “Paint It Black” has been stuck on repeat in my mind: “I want to see the sun blotted out from the sky.” The rage is overwhelming. So is the grief.

    But if I have to choose, I’ll take either of those living emotions over a hardened, dead bitterness. Maybe that’s where mindfulness comes in? I don’t know; I’m just stumbling through this, too.

    Thank you for writing this blog. It’s real, raw, and somehow truly beautiful. It’s the only thing that’s brought me some comfort today, in fact. I wish you peace.

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