just a moment in time.

On May 22nd 2025, I arrived at my new home in a state almost 2,000 miles away from where I had lived my whole life. I packed up whatever I could fit into my car, strapped in my dog and left like a bat out of hell. 

I have not once regretted that decision but I wont lie, I’m fucking broke. The one thing I had going for me back in my home state was the solid foundation of financial security I had built over the years. I have no doubt in my mind that I will build it again. That isn’t the point.

The point is that I decided not to reinvest in my web domain hosting. I decided I was okay with leaving this blog in the past. In fact, I didn’t want the last few years of my life to be blasted on the internet for anyone new I could meet to see anyway. It was a fresh start after all. 

But there are some things you can’t leave behind. Things you don’t even want to. I hadn’t processed, or even accepted, that I had really lost my baby. I had tried to take it on a few times, sure, and there was even a small period of time this seemed possible. On her due date, I spent the day with Perfect on Paper Guy, her father. It felt healing. I thought we were healing. 

Blah, blah, blah. We don’t need to get into the specifics of that shit show. I don’t feel the need to tell that story.

But here, six months later, I am still rocked by waves of grief over and over and over again. I will think that I have come to a point of peace with it all and then something new will happen and drag me back into the trenches. 

I took my head out of the sand tonight and decided to see what would happen if I logged back into my blog account. I couldn’t. It was gone. It was all gone.

I don’t care about any other post on this blog other than a soul as big as my own. I rarely reread them. But that post is a handful of paragraphs that painstakingly and lovingly encapsulated the worst and purest moments of my entire life. I wrote it less than a week after the surgery feeling like I was going to bleed out physically and emotionally. I’ve reread it a million times and I’ve avoided it just as many too.

I have a rough draft of it but it wasn’t the final one I put out into the world. The only record of her being real. The only tangible thing that I have. They asked me if I wanted an ultrasound picture and I refused it. He didn’t, I wonder if he still has it. I don’t know if I would want to see it if he did. 

She was mine. She was his. But she was mine. 

And now I have nothing. That’s not really true, I actually have a lot. But there are so many moments that all I can see is that I don’t have her. 

I can’t even make the words come out of my mouth to share this experience with anyone I’ve met here. I physically cannot make myself. I can write it on the internet and share it with strangers. But to verbally say it? I just can’t. It’s my Achilles heel. I’m afraid they won’t understand or they’ll act like it shouldn’t be this hard. I never understood it either until it happened to me. So maybe they’ll say I should just move on. Didn’t I move away to start a new life?

When someone dies, you grieve. You grieve them not being present in your life any longer. You celebrate the life they lived. All of the up’s and downs, triumphs and losses. It’s devastating and painful and it can take years and years to move on from. But they lived, they were there. 

How do you grieve someone who never lived? Someone you never got to see. An idea, even. 

I hoard my grief. I carry it with me every day, I sleep next to it at night. I let it roam a little ways away sometimes but I always pull it back. I’m afraid to let it go. 

It’s hard to start a new life when you’re aching for the one that never got to. 

When I was pregnant, I would lay on my back and try to feel if my body had changed, if I could feel her in there. I couldn’t. But I still did, in some way. She consumed my thoughts, all of my energy seemed to be concentrated in my abdomen. Everything from that moment forward was focused solely on her. I was ready to destroy anything in my path that threatened her. 

And then there was nothing.

When I saw that I couldn’t retrieve that one single blog entry, I pulled out my credit card and immediately charged it. I didn’t care about the cost, I didn’t even hesitate. I was sick, nauseated and sweating. I frantically did whatever I could to bring it back. I immediately copied and pasted it into a new document to ensure I’d never lose it again.

But why? Why do I hoard it when it hurts me so deeply? 

It feels wrong. It feels like if I let go of my grief that will be when she truly no longer exists.

Despite my feelings I have now towards the man I shared her with, that was our baby and that second chance is gone forever, we don’t have any more time. Two for one special, him and her.

I have been gripped with fear recently that if I ever found someone new and fell in love again, if I was to have another chance at having a child, it wouldn’t feel like my baby.

I wonder if I will ever really understand why this had to happen. Sometimes I feel like I do and then I don’t all over again. All I can do is continue to see the value of my own life and continue to keep living it. It really is good most days. 

I keep stringing those good days together, I have more moments of peace than agony. It’s getting better. This is just a moment in time.

I guess for now I will just write about it and cry and shake until it passes. And then I guess I’ll go eat a bowl of fucking spaghetti or something and go the fuck to sleep.

But at least I get to wake up tomorrow and if I feel like shit, I get to feel like shit looking at a mountain and a shit ton of cactus in perfect weather. Maybe I will post this to my Blog of Seemingly Neverending Pain that I couldn’t afford so I at least get my money’s worth. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I will do one of the new hobbies I have picked up or study the things I have liked a lot recently instead. 

I really have discovered a lot of things that give me purpose in my life. It might not be what I thought it was going to be. But it’s still pretty good. I really only write about my life when it sucks ass. Maybe I will try to write about it when it doesn’t. I do want to get my money’s worth.

Anyway, no two for one special today. Just a party of one. And thats okay.