This post is brought to you by a wickedly introspective passenger aboard the Why Me? train. She decided to hop aboard mostly for shits and giggles, and partly for old time's sake.
I HATE the Why Me? Train mostly. I avoid it. At least in recent years. I rode that bitch straight through from the tender age of 21 (WAHOO!) to the ripe young age of 25 (WHOA! Where the fuck did time go?), and while I was certainly navigating my way through life in some form, the view from the window was so blurry, flying by me at lightning speed, that I feel like I missed out on a lot of awesome scenery. The "Oh my GOD, it's New York City/the Rocky Mountains/a slew of TUMBLEWEEDS crossing the road!," so to speak, of my early twenties. The good shit. The stuff that happens while you're curled in a ball in the same pajamas you've been wearing for three days, in the same body that hasn't been showered in more, reading your way to SELF-HELP Land! I lost precious years, I feel like, and I don't want it to happen again.
I got off that train when it landed in a town called He Throws Hoagies at My Head!, which is a suburb of a highly populated city called My Boyfriend Is an Asshole!, and moved to Colorado. I vowed to travel the rest of my life differently, never boarding that fucking train again. I negotiated my own path, propelled only by my own two feet.
Recently, I got to thinking, what the hell is wrong with riding that train once in a while? Like, a month or a day or even an hour or so. Not long term, but for a little bit? Really? Why shouldn't I? I've earned it, I think. Hiking my happy ass over all sorts of terrain for five years has taken its toll. Especially when I'm standing at the bottom of a cliff, wondering how I'll ever manage to climb up it. My fucking legs are tired and I'm parched. Putting one foot in front of the other has gotten me this far, but now I'm watching my feet, making sure I don't fall, and that, well, is not conducive to rock-climbing, which requires looking up. I'm not ready to look up. Not yet.
Happy Villain responded to an e-mail I'd sent her proclaiming how okay I was. It reeked of optimism and, well, lies. I'm not okay. Not completely, anyway. She responded, "While I'm glad you consider yourself "fine," I also want you to know that I think it fucking sucks. You're sad, and that's awful, because you don't deserve this," and I want to say to her, "THANK YOU!" Really. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you. Thank you for saying what the battered and bruised cheerleader curled up all fetal-style in the darkest corner of my brain is whimpering through tears. THIS FUCKING SUCKS AND I DON'T DESERVE IT!
I REALLY DON'T FUCKING DESERVE IT!
WHY ME? WHY THE FUCK ME?
Why do I have to be one of the 1% (*cough* that statistic is bullshit *cough* because rape is not just some dude jumping out of the bushes *cough*) of women who get pregnant as a result of rape?
Why do I have to be the one whose body managed to maintain that pregnancy for eight weeks?
Why did it take an abortion to make that pregnancy end?
Only to have the pregnancies of an awesome and loving man fall out? Three times?
Why does life have to fuck with me? I've STRUGGLED and SOUL-SEARCHED to be carefree, happy, and relatively well-adjusted. It's been hard work.
Why do I have to do it yet again?
Why do I have to be the vase of flowers on the dinner table of a shitty amateur magician? One who doesn't quite have the tablecloth trick down yet? And is fond of Jack Daniels?
Why? WHY, WHY, WHY?
No one knows the answer. Not me. Not you. Not the deities. But can I question it? Can I pound my fist in the air and scream it? Can I? Please? Is it okay to wonder WHY ME? I'm sure it is. It has to be. Because otherwise I'm going to stow away on that godforsaken Why Me? train for much longer than if I'd just bought myself a damn ticket with an expiration date.
And then, in the midst of my Pity Party, complete with thready at the feet pajama bottoms that get stuck under the swively computer chair and countless hours of watching shitty-ass actors on Lifetime, My Belle calls and says, "Hoot and I talked and if Project - Make a Baby isn't going to happen in your uterus, it can happen in one of ours."
And she wasn't inferring that we'd find some crazy ass uterine swap thing that has yet to be discovered by scientists. She meant that Zube Boy's and my offspring, if my uterus simply isn't having it, has permission to live in one of their respective uteruses (uteri???) for nine months.
And I'm like, "Why me? Why am I SO fucking lucky? How could this be?"
And she said, "We want this for you. As much as you do. Wouldn't you do it for us?"
"Yes. I would. In a fucking heartbeat, I would."
So, while unluck runs amok, so does good stuff. And sometimes when you're unlucky, you find out just how lucky you really are. Only, you would never have known how awesome it is to hold the clean end of the stick if it weren't for the shitty end. At least I know where to hold on. At least I know now that there is a clean end. At least I've learned that flinging the shit while holding the clean end can be a little redeeming. Heh. Especially when it's aimed at asshats. Cockroaches in your hotel room MY ASS! Did you KNOW you dumb twit that cockroaches don't happen to LIVE at 9,600 feet! Take your lying refund-wanting ass elsewhere. And next time don't take a vacation you can't afford, eh.
Anyway. At least asking, "Why me?" isn't all bad.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
All Aboard!
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20 Leg Humps:
Your sisters are WONDERFUL. I can't even get mine to clean out the freezer in the horse trailer that she left ice cream in.
Last summer.
It's a matter of principle at this point.
And you're free to ask WHY ME all you want- I'd say you've earned it.
You have got two of the most rockinest sisters ever, Zube. I'm very glad they're there for you. Any and all future little Zubes are going to be exceedingly lucky to get brought into your family. And I know that there will be future little Zubes, because you're going to make a kick ass mom, and I refuse to believe that life is that big of an asswhipe (no matter how often it seems like it's that unfair).
{{hugs}}
Phil
Echoes in a Nomad's Head
what's bad is not letting yourself feel. no why me's=i'm pretending this doesn't hurt me.
You'll be ok, you're one tough cookie and i truly believe you will get that baby, sometimes it just takes some doing is all.
Hey, I have a standing ticket for the "why me?" that I use all the time when I need it....so it's ok for you to have one also....ride that baby for as long as you need!
Wanna smile....come check out what we got this week....I think you'll like it!
Love ya Zube!!!!!
You have every right to ride that train, let the sound of the wheels hypnotise you for a while - for as long as you like. I've ridden that train too.
Your sisters are the most wonderful young women in the world - I have two of those too and I don't know what I would without them.
I do know that you will have the most beautiful ZubeBaby in the world, and you will be a wonderful mom too. You will have a baby Zube - I just know it!!! I beleive it!!!
{{Hugs and prayers}}
In the likely event that my sister will have trouble conceiving, I have already put the offer out there to house her unborn and incubate them for her. I think it rocks that you have options...even though it SUCKS that you might need to have options. I wish nothing more for you than for you and Zube Boy to make your own babies and for you to able to gestate them for the requisite forty weeks (give or take) and to experience the sheer joy (PAIN) of childbirth;) I think it is part of what define us as women, and more importantly as mothers. I am SO sorry for your losses...and for being one of those people who seems to get pregnant just by washing mine and Denotsko's unmentionables together in the same load. And my babies, they don't WANT to leave my uterus. They have to be evicted. I feel obscenely guilty that I have 4 and other people who *deserve* to have 4 try for years, and have none. It isn't fair. You should hate me. Hell, I hate me, now.
Do you want one of my kids? They have really low miles, and all but one of them are housebroken;)
Anyway, my point is that you should not apologize EVER for expressing the negative feelings you are BOUND to have right now. Losing a baby SUCKS, whether you are 4 weeks pregnant or 40. Scream and cry until you can't anymore...THEN you will be able to move on.
The irony of it all just sucks rocks. You're more than entitled to ask those unanswerable questions.
And your sisters are fabulous. What are the next steps (if you feel like sharing)?
I find Dawn's "defines us as women" statement interesting. Which this, of course, has nothing to do with your post...it's just something I've never actually heard anyone say.
I had uterine cancer and a hysterectomy at 27. They found it because I was pregnant but miscarried.
It took a year for them to rip that cancerous piece of shit out of me because I might freak out that I was no longer a woman. 3 different psychs and 4 different ob/gyns later, they got the clue that I'd prefer to be spayed rather than, you know, die and shit.
The defines us as women thing...I never even thought that...not once. Anyway, this is actually the first time I've heard that statement outside of a doctor's office.
(sorry to screw up your comments with this...feel free to delete.)
I was not trying to offend anyone who didn't have their parts anymore. I would rather be spayed than ridden with cancer...and I have had many a friend who was no less a woman after having their hostile uteruses removed.
I fear that I was grossly misunderstood.
Amen Hope. And Justdawn.
Zube, I promised myself I would do the same for my seester if it came down to it. I haven't needed to make the offer, but 10 years after her abortion, I hold firm to it. My sisters are an extension of me. Sounds like you are lucky that way too.
That would be pretty awesome. One way or another, you deserve to have a Little Zube or Zubette in the household.
Your sister rocks.
No Dawn, it's not you, it's me...why does that make me feel like I'm dumping you?
A combination of one friggin year...they made me wait a year growing cancer because what if i freaked that I would never have children, wasn't a real woman and would slit my wrists or something...and the defining thing.
I never had kids. I never really cared much. I got to help raise my friends kids...all baby, all the time and you can give them back.
If I had born children, I'd never have gotten to travel practically all over the world.
Oh and no periods didn't piss me off any either.
I guess when push comes to shove, I had a real hard time with those morons making me wait when I was begging for surgery...not a cervical cancer which is rarely life threatening...uterine cancer which can be...because what if I got depressed. Please.
so see, it's not you, it's me.
Hubby and I were talking about this very thing last night. The fact that I never do the "why me", except when I'm reminded by someone else that I have been through a ton of crap that most people would never fathom.
Just 'cause I trust you and feel a connection to you, if you email me, I'll give you the link to that 'other' blog. It's not for sharing though. :)
I believe you DO get to do the why me's. Holy crap girl, you've suffered enough.
I think even more meaningful (at least to me) is for people to see what you've been though and understand (and acknowledge) what a strong and beautiful person you are.
Seriously. I admire the hell out of you.
I'm so excited that you've received such a beautiful offer.
I read this on the train this morning and wanted to respond immediately, but my damned cellphone frustrates the hell out of me when I try to type on it. I'm too old for that texting shit. meh.
What fantabulous sisters you have!
Hey, it's your train and you're allowed to ride it whenever and as long as (or as short as) you want.
You wouldn't believe how many good thoughtbeams I've been throwing toward Colorado.
i say ride that train till you wanna get off again! you're allowed to!
thinking of and praying for you and z-boy.
Your family is awesome and very loving.
Ride the train if you want to. Who says it always has to be roses and sunshine? Roses don't grow without the rain and you can't appreciate the sunshine without the clouds. Sounds kind of sappy huh?
I usually just throw pity parties. I'm the only one that ever shows up.
I know things will be better for you one day. Sooner than later hopefully. {{{HUGS}}}
I read this last night and immediately burst into tears and ran downstairs to call my sister to tell her how much I love her.
Oh sweetie. Its amazing isn't it? Sisters. Just when you think you're are going to crawl up and die in the why me-ness of it all with the misery and the heartache. There is your sister. And she does something that makes you realize that there is light at the end of the tunnel. And you fall a little more in love with her.
But you've earned the ride on the Why Me train. A first class, open-ended ticket ride. Don't deny yourself that. Its part of getting through each day for now. You need that.
Love you to pieces my dear.
I'm sorry for your losses. This might explain more...
Women who had one induced abortion had a 17.5% miscarriage rate in subsequent pregnancies, as compared to a 7.5% rate in a non-aborted group. Richardson & Dickson, "Effects of Legal Termination on Subsequent Pregnancy," British Med. Jour., vol. 1, 1976, pp. 1303-4
Women who had delivered their first pregnancy had (in the second pregnancy) the "best reproductive performance." Those who had a spontaneous miscarriage on the first had "the highest frequency of an early loss." Those with induced abortion on their first had "the highest frequency of late spontaneous abortion and premature delivery." Koller & Eikham, "Late Sequelae of Induced Abortion in Primagravida" Acta OB-GYN Scand, 56 (1977) p. 311.
Zube Girl, I've been reading you on 3 Bitches, but not here because I had blogger loading problems til just this week. I had no idea about the infertility thing. I am there. Been there, done that. Where there is a will, there's a way, don;t give up. Your sisters ROCK!
Dawn, I beg to differ. Never been pregnant, never gave birth, but I am plenty womanly and plenty motherly, thank you.
Anonymous, you aren't the least bit helpful.
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