Dedicated to all the fathers of the world…

How do I write a blog post that contains one year’s worth of….advice?  Experience?  Stories from the trenches??  I think I need to write a fucking book at this point.  It’s been a year since I’ve written on this…but that goes to show you how LITTLE time I have to myself these days.  Zero time.  Zilch.  Nada.  Once you have a baby, there is no you-time.  It’s baby time, ALL THE FUCKING DAMN TIME.

You know, some have been asking me, so when are you going to have a second one?  Haha. HAHAHAHA. HA. HA. HA. HAAAAAAAAA. 

Hell to the hell no fucking no.  My daughter is so GD difficult, that I cannot even imagine having a second human child.  And knowing my luck…the second one will be worse.  And honestly, if I have a worse baby, I’m definitely leaving him or her on the doorstep of the fire station.

So what can I say about my first year being a parent….

Honestly, it’s been the most stressful thing ever.  By FAR the hardest job in the world.  And of course we’re currently going through a worldwide pandemic, so add that teeny bit to the overwhelming amount of stress of being a new parent.  What it really is…is trying keeping your baby alive…and making sure they’re still alive every, oh, 5 seconds??  Are they breathing?  What’s that weird sound?  Is she eating enough?  What’s that bump on her body?  Wait, can she breathe?  Why isn’t she sleeping?  Wait like for reals, is she breathing??!  She’s facedown!  I can’t see her body moving!  [Run in to put your hand over her back to physically check that in fact, yes, she is still breathing.]  You know, something like that.

Sigh…and it doesn’t get that much better as they get older.  Sure, they sleep a little longer…but once they become mobile, it’s now a game of, “How to stop your baby from committing suicide every chance they get.”  Because if you have a child like mine, she puts anything and EVERYTHING into her mouth.  I’ve become an expert at vice-like gripping her mouth open and fishing for the random objects that I find in there…with 99.9% being non-edibles.  She’s constantly trying to run into the street with oncoming cars, drown herself in the tub/pool, running into sharp corners, hitting her head on hard objects, and not to mention, she’s been sleeping facedown since she’s been 3 months old.

Ever since December 9, 2019, I have had one…ONE…ONE night where I slept for 8 hours.  Long gone are those blissful days when I could sleep 9-10 hours straight through.  You don’t know how much I miss that.  But alas, I have a child who doesn’t sleep through the night 99% of the time.  And yes, my child only wants MOMMY when this happens.  So it’s MOMMY who wakes up Every. Single. Night. and rocks her back to sleep.

Okay let’s talk about this ‘only mommy mommy’ business.  Sure…it can be cute when your baby only wants you and no one else.  Cute for 2 seconds.  Because when it’s 3:00am and she’s screaming bloody murder, it’s not cute anymore.  I spend between 30 minutes – 2 hours rocking her back to sleep every night.  While my husband sleeps away.

Oh and let’s talk about husbands/partners/the ones who didn’t birth the babies from the vaginas.  Talk about the RESENTMENT.  There’s a reason why I bought the book “How Not To Hate Your Husband After Kids.”  It’s a real thing folks.  Those of you who are brand new or soon-to-be parents…be aware.  Kiss those days when you and your partner love each other unconditionally….because you’ll soon be fighting and wishing they were dead.  Okay, that’s harsh.  Maybe not dead dead…but you know what I mean.  It’s just unfair that the one who endures the 9-10-ish months of pregnancy, the horror that is labor and delivery, and the complete annihilation of the vagina/stomach, is the one who is usually handling the late night feedings, early morning wakings, consoling a screaming baby, all on a measly few hours of sleep.

And husbands who say, why should I get up in the middle of the night, you’re the one who breastfeeds…should be shot in the face and dragged 20 miles on razors. 

HUSBANDS.  THERE ARE A LOT OF THINGS YOU CAN DO WHILE YOUR WIFE BREASTFEEDS.  There are so many things you can do to help…you can burp the baby when he/she is done, you can change the baby’s diaper, you can help rock the baby back to sleep, you can get your wife some water or WHATEVER THE FUCK SHE NEEDS AT 2AM.  Trust me.  There are things you can do.  When my baby was newborn, my OBGYN actually told me, you are not doing well, you need to tell your husband that he needs to help you more.  Because I wasn’t asking for help.  And that’s also the thing ladies.  Your husband is going to be completely clueless as to what your needs are, unless you tell him to his face.  I find that it is a rarity for husbands to know how to help you during this time.  Ask for help.  Tell him what to do.

There are going to be so many instances where you want to stab your husband in the motherfucking throat.  But you know what, that’s normal. 

A baby puts SO MUCH stress on your relationship with each other, and if both of you are not on the same page, there will be some serious fighting.  And when I say serious, like I will fucking cut your dick off, divorce you and you will never see our child again kind of fighting. 

Just remember that you guys love each other, you love your baby, and you both want the same thing in the end…for this motherfucking baby to sleep.  So work together AS A TEAM and help each other out.

This teamwork is extremely important when your nerves are on edge, your patience is wearing thin, and you are on the brink of a rageful breakdown.  Do not expect the mother to do housework.  To cook.  To clean.  To do laundry.  To wash dishes.  Just fucking don’t.  Husbands, you do it, and YOU DO IT WITH A FUCKING SMILE.  You are not the one who endured any such physical pain.  You are not the one who is sacrificing her nipples 347632 times a day, trying to keep your baby fed and healthy.  You are not the one waking up the middle of the night.  And if your wife lashes out at you for whatever reason…YOU FUCKING TAKE IT SILENTLY.  YOU TAKE IT AND EAT IT.  Because she has a reason.  And that reason is good. (My husband is actually compiling a list of “mean tweets” that come out of my mouth.)

I’m not saying that it’s okay to husband bash…but there is a reason why your wife is lashing out at you.  Talk to her.  Ask her if she’s okay, if she needs help with something.  DO NOT, FOR WHATEVER REASON, SNAP BACK AT HER.  YOU KNOW WHAT, DON’T SNAP AT HER AT ALL FOR THE NEXT 5 YEARS.  Your wife is tired.  She’s been tired the moment she found out she was pregnant.  She’s the most tired she’s been in her entire life.  Every day it feels like she’s been hit by a bus and run over 50 times.  She’s stressed out.  She’s hungry because she didn’t have time to eat.  She’s (actually literally filthy) because she doesn’t have time to take care of herself.  Emotionally, she may be at a breaking point at any moment.  It’s hard.  Babies are hard.  And husbands who don’t help or who give fucking attitude is even harder to deal with.

Grow up, be a fucking husband and a father, and give her your 100%.  Because you are not as tired as her.

One month down!

I finally had time to write a blog about my experience with labor and delivery.  Haha time…I NEVER have time to do anything anymore.  My life has been consumed with taking care of this tiny human being that is my daughter.  And believe me, it’s been HARD.  You would think the universe would throw me a fucking bone after I had to go through IVF three times to get pregnant, suffering through a shitty pregnancy for 40 weeks, and experiencing the horror that is labor and delivery.  But noooooo.  I now have been hashtag blessed with a difficult baby who loves screaming bloody murder at every little thing, who projectile shits on walls, and who can only sleep when she’s being carried.  It’s been a nightmare actually, but I guess this is the typical experience parents have with newborns.  I don’t know how the hell people have more than one kid…

So as you know, I hated being pregnant.  The third trimester was the worst, with the not being able to breathe, peeing every 5 minutes, feet swelling so much that I couldn’t fit any of my shoes, sleeping upright with 5 pillows stuffed in every crevice of my body, aches and pains everywhere, etc. etc. you know the drill.  And yes, I was miserable.  But oh hoho how naive I was.  Pregnancy was cake compared to the shitshow that is labor, delivery, and recovery.

I was induced around 2:00pm on a Monday.  Let me tell you, being induced when your cervix is practically closed is NOT FUN.  They had to insert a Foley balloon catheter in my uterus.  I’m not going to lie, it hurt like a motherfucker.  From the moment the balloon was inserted in me, I was in pain the ENTIRE TIME.  It was a constant menstrual cramping pain that lasted for hours and hours and hours.  And no, there’s no pain medication for that shit!  You just have to take it.

So this balloon catheter was supposed to fall out of my vagina after my cervix dilated to 3-4 centimeters after a couple of hours.  Yah, that didn’t happen.  At around 7:00pm I was finally at 3 cm, but the balloon was still in there.  I started having contractions around 12-15 minutes apart and they started me on Pitocin.  After a couple more hours, they had to yank the balloon out of my vagina because it wasn’t falling out.  So fucking pleasant.

That night around 11:00pm I finally asked for an epidural because I was dying.  I was only 4 cm dilated, but my contractions were really frequent and painful.  There was no way in hell I was handling the pain any longer.

Thank god the epidural worked like a charm, because I would have shot myself in the brain if I had to endure my contractions.  Women who don’t get epidurals…you guys are motherfucking heroic.

However, soon after my epidural was administered, the baby went into distress because my uterus started contracting repeatedly.  When nurses and doctors come rushing into your room and put an oxygen mask around your face and not tell you what the hell is happening, it’s kinda fucking scary.  They gave me a shot of terbutaline to stop my contractions so that the baby could stabilize.  You know, someone should TELL YOU the possible side effects of drugs…because when I started convulsing and uncontrollably shaking, I was like WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME.  Like okaaaay am I dying????

And the only thing they could do for me was give me warm blankets.

I stalled at 5 cm overnight, so around 6:00am the next morning they broke my waterbag and I finally started progressing.  At 12 noon I finally hit 10 cm and started pushing.  4 1/2 hours later…baby was still in there.  Apparently, the angle of her head and my petite frame made it difficult for her to emerge.  Let me tell you, trying to push a watermelon out your vagina for 4 1/2 hours is FUCKING BRUTAL.  I was so exhausted that I literally fell asleep in between contractions.  My eyes couldn’t even stay open.  I also had a mirror in front of me so that I could see when my baby’s head would crown.  Of course, all I could really focus on was the growing hemorrhoids that were emerging from my butthole.

Finally, my OBGYN said I had to make a decision to use the vacuum or go straight to a c-section.  I decided to use the vacuum to help suction the baby out…which resulted in the complete annihilation of my vagina and butthole.  I actually have a video of my delivery.  It’s a horror show.

Finally, my daughter was delivered at 4:20pm.  I suffered from a third degree tear, which basically means my undercarriage ripped apart a gaping hole from my vagina to my anus.  Sonofabitch.

It’s a good thing I had an epidural because I didn’t feel that tear, nor did I feel the stitches, or the giant hemorrhoids that formed while I pushed for 4 1/2 hours.

Fast forward to postpartum recovery…I couldn’t even walk or stand up straight, due to the complete destruction of my vagina and butthole.  Blood poured out of me, literally just dripping on the floor.  (I still am bleeding to this day).  I couldn’t pee on my own, which was the most frustrating thing.  I had to be catheterized 4 times in order to pee.  My pain was so bad, I was on three different pain pills, including oxycodone…which of course didn’t work at all.  Pretty sure I needed morphine or something stronger.

My pain was so bad that I couldn’t even concentrate on my own baby.  I didn’t want to hold her and I could barely take care of her because I was so out of it.  I couldn’t even establish a bond with her because my pain was so overwhelming.  I didn’t even feel like she was my own daughter.  Unlike my husband, I did NOT instantly fall in love with my child the moment I saw her.  Everyone says you forget the pain and suffering once your child is born.  NOPE.  NO.  I REMEMBER EVERY FUCKING DETAIL.

It took me a few days…but I eventually loved my daughter.  It helps that I find her completely adorable and so cute that I want to eat her face off.

After I came home from the hospital, came the second worst experience of my life, postpartum poop. Okay, NO ONE TOLD ME HOW UNBELIEVABLY PAINFUL THIS IS!!!  WHY DIDN’T ANYONE FUCKING TELL ME ABOUT THIS?!?!?!?!?!  It was like shitting shards of glass out of my butthole.  I had to brace myself against the wall, shaking and shivering the whole time, with sweat dripping down my face…and here’s my husband trying to talk to me at the same time.  I CAN’T TALK RIGHT NOW I AM FUCKING DYING A SLOW AND PAINFUL DEATH!!  CALL 911 BECAUSE I NEED HELP!!!

I seriously wanted to go to the hospital because it was so bad.  And let me tell you, no amount of stool softeners will help your first poop after delivery.

It’s been one month since I delivered and I am STILL recovering from my injuries.  My doctor said it’ll take months for me to heal.  GOODY.

Life with a baby is so terrifying.  I am constantly checking to see if she’s still breathing.  Every sound she makes, I need to check to make sure she’s not suffocating or choking.  And don’t even get me started on breastfeeding.  That’s another story in itself.  So frustratingly difficult and painful.

Well I, along with my daughter, have survived one month.  Here’s to making it to two.

162 Weeks Pregnant

I feel like I’m 162 weeks pregnant…this feels like it has been going on FOR-EV-ERRRRR.

Every day I get asked, is the baby here yet?  No…she is fucking not.

Every day I get asked, how are you feeling?  Fucking shitty.

And every day I get asked, are you getting excited?  No…I am fucking not.

Please stop talking to me.  I would like silence from you, a two cheeseburger meal from Mcdonalds, a box of Cinnabon, and a boba tea.  And not those fucking small minibons…I mean a BOX OF FULL-SIZE CINNABON.  Thank you.

I honestly don’t know how women have more than one kid.  I’m pretty positive I am DONEZO after this one.

I hate being pregnant and I never want to do this ever again.  And for those of you who somehow blackout and have pregnancy amnesia and want to have another child…I will not forget.

I will remember EVERY SYMPTOM I have experienced and know how awful it is carrying a child in your stomach for 40 weeks.  40 weeks by the way equals an ETERNITY.

I am so GDamn uncomfortable all the time!  I feel like a basketball is constantly pressing on my butthole.  I pee every 10 minutes, and right when I get off the toilet, the urge to pee comes back again.  I have to sleep propped up because I cannot breathe lying down.  My stomach feels like it’s going to rip open and I am constantly full, even after I drink a sip of water.

I now have constant indigestion and loose stools.  The nerves in my vagina and thighs are getting pinched from the weight of my gigantor baby.  Not to mention the constant swelling of my feet and cankles.  Yes, I have no ankles anymore.  When you press my skin lightly, it makes a semi-permanent indentation due to all the fluid accumulating around my cankles and calves.  My husband said last night, this can’t be normal right??!

Yes…I think it is.

I have tried every natural induction method possible at this point, but of course my daughter is fucking stubborn like her mother.  She sitting pretty in my uterus just filling up on all the sugar and carbs I’ve been eating.

Because yes, at this point IDGAF about my diabetes.

Um…and yah I thought people with gestational diabetes give birth early?!?!?!  Uhhhh I’m almost at 40 weeks people….this isn’t early!!!  This is fucking on TIME.

Pretty sure my doctor is going to have to force my daughter to come out sometime next week.  And my god will that be a FUN experience.  Stay tuned.

30 Weeks

This was literally me this morning…as my leg had a seizure (your typical calf cramp) from this pregnancy.  Yes, I fell off my bed in abhorrent pain, moaning.  What a wonderful way to wake up on this beautiful Friday morning.

So yes…I am now 30 weeks pregnant.  I have been holding off on writing a blog entry about my pregnancy since I don’t really want to complain.  I wanted this for four years right????  Right????  Did I???

Of course I never thought pregnancy would be a breeze, since I’ve seen countless women go through this and struggle.  But you never know what it’s like, until you’re in the trenches.  And my god, it’s not fucking fun.  Whoever likes being pregnant should be shot in the face…only because it’s not fair to the other 90% who die a little each day.  I’m that 90%.  I want this to be over already.

The third trimester has by far been the most difficult…and I’m only at 7 months.  I have two more months of this…which is going to be SOOOOOO GREAT.

And then comes labor.  And then comes breastfeeding.  And then comes the crying.  And then comes no sleeping.

Why did I want this again?!?!?!

Oh yah…to be a mom.

So I shall endure this never ending pain of being in CONSTANT discomfort.  My body feels like it’s rapidly deteriorating down a shit spiral every day…but hey, that’s life right?  I can’t sit, lie down, stand, or walk for too long, otherwise parts of my body flare up in anger.  I wear a knee brace, a wrist brace, a belly and back brace…which of course is like slapping a band aid over a bullet hole.  I am forced to restrict my eating habits, and I need to walk/exercise three times a day in order to control my blood sugar.  I am constantly HUNGRY and I’m fucking pregnant…which basically equals to hangry times 10.

I sometimes walk like I’m 134 years old, I can’t see very far anymore, and random veins and growths pop up all over my body.  It’s like I’m aging in fast forward, whatthefak.  And I don’t even have a difficult pregnancy!!!  There’s so many other women who go through much worse!!

The things we do for our children, amiright?

 

My Stages of Pregnancy thus far has been…

First Trimester:

Second Trimester:

Third Trimester:

Hell Week

It’s been five days…five days since I suddenly woke up with tinnitus.

This week has been….to put it lightly…hell on earth.  If you don’t know what tinnitus is, it’s ringing in your ears.  For me, it’s a very high pitch ringing sound that is CONSTANT, as in 24/7 non-stop ringing in my right ear.

And it’s not going away.  In order to sleep, I need to drug myself up and listen to tinnitus music.  Yeah, did you know that Apple Music has a tinnitus playlist??  Well that’s been my jam these past few days…gotta love that poltergeist white noise mixed with rain water and bird calls.

I am scheduled to see an ENT, but I have to wait a few weeks until my appointment.  My regular doctor checked me out and said she sees ear congestion in my right ear.  I thought oh that’s good right?  At least she sees something that I can possibly fix!  So she recommended to take a nasal decongestant to help.  And has it helped?  No.  It actually made the ringing worse.  My doctor also told me that sometimes once you develop tinnitus, you have it for the rest of your life.  Unfortunately, there is NO CURE.

Yes…I am going to blow my brains out soon.

How the fuck do you get rid of ear congestion??  My ears are actually feeling a little plugged right now, and along with the ringing sound, my head is beginning to feel fuzzy.  I don’t know if that’s due to the amount of CBD, anxiety medicine, and decongestants I’ve been taking…but I have sort of a brain fogginess going on.  And yes…having tinnitus has triggered my anxiety to resurface tenfold.  FML.  So yes, this week has been AMAZING.

Either help me or leave me alone in this corner to die.

Diet always starts tomorrow

Ever since this long ass break from IVF, my blogs have been few and far between.  Since my life is uninteresting and mundane without my horrific medical procedures, there’s nothing significant to report on.  I’m still on hiatus from IVF…and when I will start back up again is a big fat TBD.

The only thing I’m currently working on is this god awful ketogenic diet that I have been on for two weeks.  And you ask…WHY are you on this diet?  Well, after watching a documentary on Netflix about this diet’s potential to “cure” diseases and such, I decided to try it.  Prior to starting this diet, I normally would binge eat every day and get stomach aches.  I thought hmm…maybe I should change what I’m eating so I don’t feel like shit all the time?  And maybe, just MAYBE, it’ll have a positive effect on my infertility and the many other 23 health issues I have.  It doesn’t hurt to try right?

But oh…it does hurt.  It hurts A LOT.

When you live on a diet of carbohydrates and sugar for 36 years, your body goes into shock when you quit eating those things cold turkey.  I’ve had headaches, fatigue, muscle aches and pains, cramping, ear ringing, sugar and carb cravings, itchy skin and MAJOR IRRITABILITY.

I have been hangry every fucking day, and my patience has been zero to nil.  Pretty sure I could star in the upcoming season 2 of Making a Murderer: Tales of the Ketogenic Diet.  But it’s now week three and I am adjusting to it….slowwwwwwwly.  My cravings for a fucking piece of bread hasn’t disappeared, but I have found ways around it.  Like making my own bread out of weird ass ingredients.  And every night I’ve been eating “healthy” ice cream, which probably isn’t good because it still has carbs and sugar in it.  But it’s been keeping me alive, like literally ALIVE.  And keeping my husband alive because I haven’t murdered him in his sleep yet.

Even though I constantly want to punch everyone in the face, I am getting better.  Really, I am.

As for my friends and family…I’m sorry in advance that you possibly have to deal with a raging carb-a-holic.  Be advised, if you shovel bread and cookies in front of my face, this WILL BE ME.  You have been forewarned.

 

 

On the fence…

I haven’t posted in a long time…but there really isn’t much to say.  We’ve been taking a break from the whole baby making shiz since our last fail in December.  Honestly, it’s been nice not having to deal with it.  No shots in the ass, no shoving pills down my throat…or in my vagina, no painful invasive devices that force open my cervix.  You can imagine that my vagina and body are truly loving this break.

The weird thing is though…the longer we stay on this break, the more my husband and I don’t want children.

I know having children is like, the best thing ever if you’re a parent, but man, you have to give up quite a lot for them.  Your life completely 180’s and has to revolve around your kids’ schedule.  Your time becomes THEIR time.  Do I want to wake up at 5:00 AM every morning?

Fuck no.  Do I want to pay out my asshole for school tuition?  Umm, nope.  Do I want to drive my child every weekend to soccer/dance/baseball/basketball/karate/hula practice??  No thanks.  So yes…we may be giving up sooner than anticipated.

And I know everyone says that once you stop trying, that’s when you’ll get pregnant.  But we’ve stopped trying for seven months…and N.O.T.H.I.N.G.  So don’t tell me that shit anymore.  You can only force nature so much.  If it’s not meant to be…then it’s not and we can finally move on.

I do have another three eggs in the freezer, but we both feel that the likelihood that a third IVF transfer works is slim to none.  So why even try?  Do we really want to throw another $5000 in the trash?  No.

My husband has already decided that he doesn’t want to try anymore…but I’m still hanging by a thread.  I don’t really want to waste any more time and money and my EMOTIONAL SANITY, but yet I don’t want to dump three potentially good eggs either.  And since we don’t want to keep paying to have my eggs frozen, we have this year to decide whether to try one last time, or just quit now.  And maybe get another dog instead.  Because you know FOR A FACT that it’s happening if we don’t end up having kids.  Siberian husky here I come.

And let’s be real here…I’m not even a kid person.  I’m a lot more inclined to adopt five kittens and three dogs and live my life managing their instagram pages.  Right?

It’s not about gun control, it’s about saving lives

Before you read this, let me just say that I don’t claim to know anything about law-making, or laws on firearms, anything to do with weapons of mass destruction, and school safety.  These are just my thoughts about the current events happening right now.  Even though I fully believe in the second amendment, I do not own a firearm myself.  I do like rifles, because I am pretty good at shooting one, but it’s never something I seriously thought about owning.  Knowing me, I’d probably accidentally shoot myself if I did have one…so it’s a good thing I don’t.

All politics and NRA-mindedness aside, let me ask you this.  Do you really think it’s okay for a mentally and emotionally unstable person to be able to walk into a store and purchase a weapon of mass destruction legally?  Or a person who is on the FBI-watch list for possible terrorism?  Or a person who is a domestic abuser and beats his spouse?  Or a person who has had the cops called on them several times for “violent behavior?”  You really think it’s perfectly FINE for these people to have easy access to a weapon that can mow down hundreds of people in a matter of minutes?  You think that’s okay??  If you do….well then you might be mentally insane yourself and I can’t help you.

But for the rest of us with common sense…you probably don’t think that’s okay.  And that is what they call GUN CONTROL.  This issue of guns is so sensitive to most people and I think it’s absolutely ridiculous.

Gun control doesn’t mean taking away your guns.  It just means making it harder to get one.  Like how it’s harder to get on an airplane and forcing you to give up those dangerous bottles of water and jars of cookie butter?  Like that.

We need more extensive background checks and psychological examinations before a person can legally buy a gun.  We just do.  And for those of you that say, but that will only affect law-abiding citizens.  Yes…you are correct.  But that’s what A LAW IS FOR.  Are you saying that, in general, laws don’t work?  Then why have them?  Sure, go ahead and drive 100 mph in a residential area.  See what happens.  Sure, let a 10-year old child purchase alcohol.  See what happens.  Sure, let babies sit in the front seat of a car with no car seat.  SEE. WHAT. HAPPENS.  There’s a reason for laws…albeit some are dumb yes.  But there is a good reason for most laws; to prevent harm, to preserve peace and order, etc. etc.  Criminals will break laws, no matter what they are.  But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have them.

We need to make the access to guns a little bit more difficult than it is right now.  In some states, you don’t even need a background check.  That is absurd!!!  And I know, nowadays people have been using their cars to mow down people.  And currently, we don’t need background checks to purchase or rent a car.  But you know what, I wouldn’t protest if they did have something in place.  Sure, it would be a fucking bitch to buy a car…but maybe it would help.  I don’t know.

Here are some other options our government/President have been offering, to solve these mass shooting occurrences:

Arm teachers.  Give teachers guns.  Train them to fight.  Hah.  Okay.  Dude…these are TEACHERS.  They’re not Navy Seals.  Their job is to teach your fucking children math and shit.  Not to defend their class against monsters with AR-15s.  You really want to purchase a gun and train every teacher on the planet?  Good luck with that.  You better start paying them more.  School counselors too…hint hint.

Have armed security at all schools.  Okay, that would be nice.  If the school was a prison.  I work on a campus that is very open and very accessible to anyone that wants to come here.  As are most schools in Hawaii, we are outdoor campuses.  Once you step outside your classroom, you are OUTSIDE.  We don’t have gates.  We don’t have indoor hallways.  We don’t have a couple of entrances.  We have a million.  We are basically cannon fodder for an active shooter.  There is not enough armed security to man our campus.  And we’re just one school.  There is no possible way for every school in this country to have sufficient manpower to safely guard every access point on every campus.  But sure…give us one or two armed guards.  He or she won’t do much when it comes to protecting our 52-acre campus.  But any help is better than no help.  Good luck with guarding UH Manoa’s 320 open acres.

Install metal detectors.  Again…where exactly?  We have a million entrances to our campus.  Metal detectors can’t help when you have a million access points.  And don’t tell me you’re going to build a fucking wall around every campus.  You didn’t even finish your other wall.

Install bulletproof doors.  Okay, I would absolutely LOVE IT if we had bulletproof doors and windows.  I totally believe in this solution.  But again, where are we getting the money to install bulletproof doors on every campus??  We’re talking billions of doors right?  Most of our public schools can’t even afford air conditioning or the electrical wires to power an AC device.  You think we have the money for bulletproof doors?  That’ll have to come out of the Pres’ wallet my dears.

We need to come together and love one another and give more support to children who are being bullied and who are alone.  Yes yes, all good things.  As a school counselor, my job is to support people, so I agree with this statement.  But, LET’S BE REAL.  We are not going to unite as one and all that bullshit.  Kids will not stop bullying kids.  And you’re not going to start hanging out with the socially awkward guy who smells like B.O. at work.  I know we wish everyone got along peacefully…but that’s only a wish.  The moment someone cuts you off while driving you’re going to curse them and wish they die a horrible death.

We NEED active shooter drills.  I fully believe in training all staff, in every school and in every workplace across the country to do active shooter drills and emergency trainings, even nuclear ballistic missile ones.  But just today, I heard Trump saying that he doesn’t believe in active shooter trainings.  Like WHAT THE FUCK??  You don’t even want us to BE PREPARED in case this situation ever happens?!?!?!??!  How backwards are you???  Soooo…you want us to be sitting ducks/running outside wildly/climbing into manholes in a real live situation then.  Because that is what will happen, when it happens.  I mean something even as simple as a lockdown drill, or learning how to barricade a classroom with the furniture you have in there, would be helpful.  And don’t you worry about scaring your children when you explain to them about active shooter drills.  They are a lot more resilient than you think.

Anyway…in conclusion…we need to do something.  ANYTHING will be helpful.  Doing NOTHING is not.  This shit is ridiculous and it’s awful that we have to live in a society where mass shootings are acceptable.  Just GDamn do something okay.

(*Side Comment:  In Parkland’s case, I think the FBI dropped the ball on this one.  Don’t tell me you can’t find the person, who used his real name, who made a comment on a Youtube video.  Really…really.)

15 Minutes

You never know it’s going to be your last day…until it is.  That’s what many people in Hawaii thought when we received an emergency alert that a nuclear ballistic missile was inbound and on its way to annihilate our islands.  We were notified previously, that upon receiving this message, you have 15 minutes to get to a safe place.  15 minutes.  15 fucking minutes.  That’s only enough time for a good shit.  What the fuck are we supposed to do in 15 minutes??  It’s a pretty indescribable feeling when you think you only have 15 minutes left to live.  A thousand emotions and thoughts run through your brain and you either stay calm….or freak the fuck out.

Another huge problem is, we live on an island and there are no real safe places.  We do not have nuclear fallout shelters and barely any homes here have basements.  Basically…we have 15 minutes until we die a horrible death.  Prepare yourselves.  That’s the message we got that morning.

So what the fuck happened?

At approximately 8:05am, Saturday, January 13, 2018:  A routine internal test during a shift change at the Hawaii Emergency Management Agency was initiated.  This employee apparently PUSHED THE WRONG BUTTON.

A devastating and unfortunate mistake.  At 8:07am:  A warning test is triggered and everyone with a smartphone received this message:

The words “THIS IS NOT A DRILL” was legit the most terrifying thing I have ever read. And immediately, people started reacting.

Alerts continued over the television and radio.  Panic ensued.

People quickly jumped on social media, the news stations, the radio…but received no information whatsoever.  We didn’t have a clue as to what the fuck was happening.

Then the running started.

I heard people were driving like they were racing Vin Diesel in The Fast and the Furious, driving at speeds of 100 miles per hour and barreling through red lights, just to get somewhere safe.  I can imagine some accidents may have been caused.

Parents had to hold it together and explain to their children what the the hell was happening.

People at home, like me, barricaded themselves in a bedroom or bathroom.

Some folks outside even got into sewers.

Some stayed where they were and prayed.

And others, like my parents, didn’t really care.  My parents were at a restaurant when the alert sounded.  The restaurant closed down and people left…while my parents just sat there and finished their breakfast.

While there were police who took to the streets with bullhorns and politicians posting on social media, it actually took 38 minutes for an official false alarm alert to notify the people of Hawaii.

Now I don’t know about you, but 38 minutes is a really long time to be thinking that you could die at any minute.  I thank the cellphone gods that texting and the internet worked while this was all happening.  Because while social media can wreck havoc….in this case…it was a savior.

This was a major wake up call to the state of Hawaii, and how ill prepared we all are in a catastrophic situation.  My emergency kit was literally a plastic bag with bottled water in it.

We would have definitely died.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Costco and Sams Club sold out of their emergency kits, bottled water, and toilet paper.  Mass hysteria = mass toilet paper outage.

Don’t mistake these gifs as an attempt to make fun of what happened to Hawaii.  This was a terrifyingly real situation and most of us were scared out of our minds.  Many of us communicated with our loved ones and said our last goodbyes.  Parents had to abandon their children at soccer games and dance classes, as there was no time to go back and get them.  We truly believed this could have been our last 15 minutes on Earth and we did as much as we knew how to.  This just goes to show that our emergency system needs to improve and that everyone, not only in Hawaii, but the rest of the United States, needs to be more prepared for situations likes these.  This incident just reinforces the fact that it’s really easy for some asshole to push a button.

As we speak, I have an emergency food supply kit, a 100 gallon water bag, and a crank radio awaiting delivery.  We are going to be more prepared next time, you best believe that.

Life, as explained by Michael Scott

Christmas is usually my favorite time of the year.  I love holidays and family gatherings and of course, getting presents.  But not this year.  This year was fucking shitty.  Like the, don’t talk to me, don’t touch me type of shitty.  I was miserable the entire time.

My uterus had murdered two more babies and I was literally, dead inside.  With two floating dead embryo babies being flushed out on Christmas day.

As I said in my previous post, meeting with the doctor did not help at all.

I was pissed off, confused, and just over the fucking bullshit.

I tried to be okay…forced myself to appear “normal” because this was the holiday season.  But I wasn’t okay.  Not in the least.

I thought I was downward spiraling into depression…as I couldn’t feel happiness anymore.  I felt as if a heavy presence was pushing down on my body.

This was the worst Christmas I ever had.

But now it’s the new year.  As as all the new year bullshit goes…it’s time to move forward and look towards a better future.  One that possibly will be childless.  And we are in the process of coming to terms with that.

I continue to research voodoo methods of getting pregnant, using essential oils and touching ancient rocks and all that…but the underlying thought about trying to get pregnant is…

It’s all bullshit.

I’ve drunk pomegranate juice and herbal tea, eaten pineapple, wore crystal beads, purchased golden fertility charms, placed rice under my bed, gotten blessed, did acupuncture, and suffered from resonant healing.  Other than sacrifice the blood of a baby unicorn underneath a full blue moon, I don’t know what else to do.

As of right now, I will be doing nothing.  We’re just going to try and enjoy being a family of three (including our fur-daughter Sophie) and get on with our lives.  The end.