Category Archives: PPD

My Girls in Heaven (trigger warning)

If I close my eyes and wish hard enough, dream sweetly enough I can hear your laughter. Soft and sweet giggles on the wind. I can feel your little hands close in mind as we go running through the field of wildflowers into the woods where we play hide and seek. I can see your eyes, bright blue and bright green, your hair in alternate shades of deep and light red, your skin pale as the day is long with those scatter freckles across your cheeks just like your brother and sister. I can hear your soft sweet voices singing on the wind as we tumble to the ground and make daisy crowns for our hair while we play by the water’s edge on our afternoon adventure. I feel the weight of your bodies in my lap as I hold you in my arms not wanting this day to end, this dream to be woken from. Your sweet kisses to my cheeks assure me that you will be there again when I come to visit you, that I don’t belong there to stay, that it’s time for me to go home. And when reality sets back in and I open my eyes to the world with tearstained cheeks, I know that somewhere you are still watching over me.

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I scoop up my babies and hold then tight, whispering to them how much I love them. They ask me why I have tears in my eyes and all I can tell them is that it is because I am so happy to have them with me. It is not a lie, I am happy, I am lucky that I get to hold them in my arms, that I get each and every day with them. The only part I leave out is that part of the reason for the tears is for their siblings who are always watching us and will one day be able to hug us when our souls join with theirs. One day I will tell them about their sisters who will forever be in our hearts. But for today, I will wrap them up in all over my love.

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There is for as long as I have known a stigma around writing about miscarriage, a taboo about the written word of losing a baby before they were born. But my girls were a part of me and I am not ashamed to say that. There is a part of my heart and soul that no matter what anyone says or how much time has passed that won’t stop hurting for the loss of them. They were part of me, I created them, I saw them, I knew they were there in my soul and then they weren’t. And that loss is soul crushing.

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When I found out I was pregnant in 2008 I was beyond the moon, a second baby when I was told I couldn’t have a first. I knew that this pregnancy was going to be different because I couldn’t even stand the smell of sugar, oh it was terrible. I was somewhere between 7-10 weeks along when I lost her that Father’s Day, June 21, 2008. It was confirmed by a test the next day, they took my blood and called me and I remember the phone falling out of my hands and dropping to the ground. I remember feeling crushed. I held my spritely boy that day so tightly as though the heavens would take him from me too. Later than summer I was granted a wish and therein lie the miracle and my Pixie was born 2 months after her sister should have been.

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We thought I was sick in 2015, we thought it was my lap band, we thought it was something with my stomach, I went under surgery twice not knowing. And then the results came in, I was pregnant. I was thrilled, beyond thrilled, I had a wonderful relationship and everything was going well. I was terrified and anxious and excited, I was going to do everything right this time. But everything wasn’t going as planned. The first sonogram showed her smaller than she should have been but that was ok. Then the next one, I saw her heart beating! I saw it, it was slow but it was there and I thought, look at that, this is really happening. I tossed away all the concerned looks that everyone else had because of how small she was still measuring. Then it happened the next week. She was still there, a smudge and actual smudge, I saw her…but her heart had stopped beating and she was gone, just gone. And so was I., This time, it wasn’t just let nature happen, it was medical intervention happens. We didn’t know exactly how far along I was. But June 8th, 2015 was her day, her birthday I suppose but as she had passed while still inside my body I don’t know what t call it. She was about the age as her sister had been, but the whole experience was different. This one included contractions and pain and the whole experience I had with my live births. I was devastated. My life would be forever changed.

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Why am I writing this now? Because it is June, because June for me is a hard month, one of plenty of happiness but one of a lot of pain. One that will bring about the summer and one that will forever remind me of my angel babies. May-June one day be a month of rebirth for me and not hold my heart so heavy, this is what I can wish for. So today I will go and make a flower crown with my faerie kids, we shall run and we shall play and we shall laugh. And our laughter will bring us smiles and I know somewhere our angels are smiling down on us.

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Mommy loves you

Always

Shaye

xoxo

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I’m here for you. For as long as you need me.

I was going to go into detail, tell you of my story but right now I can’t. I can’t because you don’t need to hear my story right now, you need to hear that I will understand yours. If I can’t understand you, I will listen and empathize. I will give you my hand, lend you my shoulder and certainly be a sounding board. I chose these pictures for you because in them I saw my past, I saw my friends, I saw my struggles and I saw the messages I needed so long ago. The reason I became who I am today, I wanted to be the person that I never found so long ago. So these are for you and me.

I am here for you. For as long as you need me.

Sparkles,

Shaye

Xoxo

 

This is NOT a Love Story

The first of many books I stated, let me know what you think

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This is NOT a love story! And what I mean by that is that this is some mushy gushy story about love triangles, about some guy or girl shaped my world or any of that nonsense. Though if I really think about it those aspects are in there. However, this is NOT a love story. I will not let you categorize it as such, much like Disney categorized Frozen as a sisters story when it WAS a love story. This, at least I think is more of a suspense thriller, but most people would disagree…Granted most people can’t see inside my brain. Hell I can’t even see inside my brain. Ok off track here a little bit. Anyway, now that we are clear what this isn’t, let me tell you what this is.
This is MY story; yeah get your chuckles out now. I know what most of you think of me, even some hell probably some of those who I’ve chatted up in the grocery store line. I know what you’re thinking. And no, I am not a conspiracy theorist or any of that nonsense, I just know what mask I where when and how people judge me in relation t such. Hell, I’ve burned some of those masks years ago and people still remember them. They are seared so hotly into people’s brains that I will never be who I am today but always who I used to be. So, this is a story without the mask, or at least I hope I can be brilliant honest and make it through. This is the story I should have typed a thousand times in a thousand different ways and I didn’t…
I have a lot of good excuses why I didn’t, but nothing that really gets me out of it. I have 5 fucking stories on my computer, 5! And they each have at least 2 chapters…One of them even had a PROLIGUE! And they are genuine stories that I hope to finish someday, but I can’t put my heart back in the place it was when I was writing them, does that make sense? Ok so by now you know that in person I have many masks, I make a lot of excuses and totally judge books (and movies) by their cover (and tag lines…see first paragraph). Let’s add to the stack shall we? I often go off on tangents that no one can follow (be prepared), I can be very sexual and potty mouthed, and sometimes I just out and out lie…Granted I think it’s more of a retelling of the story in a more fanciful fashion but when push comes to shove, I lie. If you have to ask why at this point I would tell you because I like to. See I told you a suspense thriller would be more my story.
So here I am baring my soul, to the world. Or at least I hope to. In this story that is not about love, though there is love in it. A story full of stories, full of unheard truths and confessions. Maybe I’m repenting for some bad shit I did in a past life, but all I got from all the oogie boogies down in New Orleans where that something really bad happened in a past life but they couldn’t tell me. I think I am writing my story because it is time, or that I am running out of time. No I am not suicidal, I am literally running out of time, I was supposed to write 50,000 words by the month of December and as of right now my word count is 607. I think if I can pound out 50,000 words in two days I would be incredible proud of myself but incredibly worn out. But I made a promise to someone in New Orleans that I would finish a book by the beginning of this year and I broke that promise. I hate breaking promises. So now it’s time to promise myself I will finally finish what I have started. For once in my life have something to look back on and say hey you…look at that, not only do you make beautiful kids, bake a mean apple pies and have a gay harem that puts the world to shame…but you wrote a fucken book. Go team you.
Now that I have gotten a minor introduction out of the way I guess we should start with my childhood right? I don’t have a lot of memories as a kid, but I have flashes of them, if that makes sense. I look through photo albums and I know faces and names and not a lot of details. Every once in a while a very clear memory will pop up in there and I will blurt it out, but those memories are so sporadic, sometimes I wish they would either stay or go away completely.
©S.R.Gray 2016

The Answer You Didn’t Want

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You sat there in the chair shifting. The cushion was not comfortable but it wasn’t the worst you’d ever deal with. You waited as the papers shuffled on the desk and he turned to face you. Quietly the little boy with the big brown eyes was playing with the blocks. The noises made the silence worse. Shuffle shuffle, click click, unidentified sounds from that beautiful boy. Finally he turned, you dug your fingers into your legs to keep from shaking. You already knew the answer but you needed to hear it from someone who could tell you that you weren’t crazy. He had a PhD, he knew crazy.  Autism, Aspergers to be exact. Along with Sensory Processing Disorder and anxiety. You lips pressed together so you don’t cry. You knew what they were going to say, but hearing it was a slap in the face. But 4 years later you’re still ok.

Tap, tap, tap….fancy pen on a fancy leather shoe. Your under a microscope. He won’t tell you what’s wrong. Claims he doesn’t know. But you already heard the answer, because you’ve been living with it for years. But you needed to hear him say it. Say that you were bipolar and borderline. And he refused. So you broke his mug. And when you were finally ready to hear the answer, it was still a stinging mark across your face, because it wasn’t supposed to be right. 3 years later, you’re still alive.

Over and over this happens. It feels good and bad at the same time. Vindicated but what the fuck are you supposed to do now?

Now…When you need answers. When the bloods come back highly abnormal, you get nervous. And it’s not nervous that they will find something but more nervous that they wont. You are tired, swollen and drained. So they had scheduled another test. And you pray something pops up. Because in all your years …Nothing has. It’s hard to fight an invisible disease when you can’t find it. Sick and tired of being sick and tired. So you hope they find something. So that you won’t  have to suffer without reasons…

But you realize in this moment that this may be the one answer that you don’t want to have already answered.

Food for thought
Shaye xoxo

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I Love You Forever

I love you forever
I like you for always
As long as I’m living
My baby you’ll be

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I remember life before I was a Mom. I can tell you some tales that are outlandish but true. But those are in days long past, in a memory box, on a shelf not yet forgotten.

Jayson and Kaylin showed me how pure and divine love is. That there can be tears and scrapes along the way but nothing will bounce back quicker, fight harder or grow stronger than the soul of a Mother. 

Now I know that you can eat oreos dipped in orange juice and that boogers are nutrious. I know that when push comes to shove you can and will use anything to clean up spills, that magic eraser doesn’t work on all paint and stains on beige carpet are harder to get out than one would think.

But I also know a tutu goes with everything (so does a Batman mask). I know the satisfaction of being read to. And how important having medicinal peas in the freezer are.

Today is one of those days I am counting my blessing as I can hold my babies tightly. My thoughts are with those whose time was cut short. May they shine brighter than the rest of all the stars. And may we know that they are ever by our side, waiting patiently, till we can take them in our arms again.

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Maybe Dumbledore Isn’t Always Right – Rebecca Ethington

One of my favorite authors and closest friends posted this on Facebook a few days ago. I found it so profound, and you don’t usually find stuff like that on FB anymore. It summed up so many things, what ifs and lonliness, bullying, and just not knowing when to reach out and help someone or when to ask for help for yourself.

Never be afraid to reach out and help those in need, never be quick to judge because you never know what that woman behind that mask or the man behind the curtain are really like. Sometimes it isn’t east to click your heels together three times, sometimes their is no faerie godmothers. But there is always you, and that is good enough for me.

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“There is a scene in the final Harry Potter where Harry and Dumbledore meet at a place between life and death, and in that space they see a piece of Voldemort’s soul – this quivering, whimpering, ugly child, shoved underneath a bench.
And Harry, tries to go to it, convinced it needs help. And Dumbledore tells him not too.
I’ve always hated Dumbledore for that. Yes, Voldemort is evil, did he probably deserve what’s coming to him – yes. And I am in no way comparing myself to that quivering whimpering child, hidden away in pain.
But we have all been there.
We have all been so full of loss and heartbreak, and agonizing defeat, and sadness, and rejection. That we have all been there.
We have been that forgotten child in the corner, a deep part of us just shaking and crying and desperately hoping that someone would just come over and pull us out of the dark and hold us while we cry and comfort us until it all goes away.
I know I have.
And chances are, when you are there, you don’t know how to ask, or maybe you don’t have anyone to turn to anymore. You are alone, and you can hear people talking on a bench and your crying out for help, but they don’t come to find you.
So take this with a grain of salt. But you know those “whiny” posts everyone complains about on Facebook? Yes, some of them are just negative people. But what if some of them… just maybe… where people so lost and alone and scared and so desperate for help that they are asking for help the only way they know how. That maybe they just need that hug, or that phone call with a real voice.
I can’t believe I’m going to say this… but maybe sometimes we shouldn’t listen to Dumbledore. Because maybe sometimes they need our help, our compassion, our empathy and our love. Don’t be afraid to reach out – because people are people – but they are also human. And in this crazy world, we can’t do it all on our own.” – Rebecca Ethington

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We Have Apples

So there is this wonderful mental illness blog that I follow by Rachel Griffin called We Have Apples. A little bit ago she had put up a post asking for pictures, both uplifting and at our times of trouble to put in a music video for a project she is doing. Let me give it to yo in her own words (it pasting it from her site)

“As a lot of you know, I’m a singer/songwriter in New York City with a fabulous life…. and a mental illness! (the two can go together! And errr.. it wasn’t always that way! LOL) I am so passionate about mental health awareness, ending the stigma, and connecting with other warriors like you! I am also writing a musical about these topics.More about the mental health musical I’m writing, We Have Apples, can be found on the website. You can also hear songs there. (But the song for this video is not released, yet- You’ll be the first to hear it, though!) If you want, you can sign up for the show’s mailing list to be kept posted on the development!:)

I was just selected as a Dramatists Guild Fellow, which means this year I will be working on developing We Have Apples with Broadway professionals!

More about my career as a singer/songwriter at: Rachel Griffin Website. This info I’m giving is not because I want to brag, but I want to tell you a little about my career so you know this song and video we are going to make will be high quality and could do very well! 🙂 I’ve won two National songwriting contests, recently wrote a song for an internal Macy’s campaign, and I have a publishing deal for a few of my pop songs.”

Well I participated in this as mental health is a very important subject to me….Obviously. I am keeping my fingers crossed that I will get to work it Rachel in the future. But here it is…..My debut in a music video….Pass and share it is so important!!!!

Superhuman Spoonie Squad

Recently I made a group on Face book called *see title of post* I was tired of joining groups with over 1000 plus members and trying to find my niche.

Superhuman Spoonie Squad

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This was my callout for my members

I have started a group for all of my spoonies. Because sometimes it’s nice to have a place to go, when you can’t have a friend to hold your hand, and there isn’t over 2 billion strangers to try and converse.

So raise your hand if you need a voice, a hand or just to lurk and hear what spoonies like you have to say.

Safe space. Is what I intend. Rant, vent, laugh, cry…..

Comment, pm, tx, email….get in touch

Superhuman Spoonie Squad

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This was what I had to say about me.

So let’s see….
Graves disease
Immunothrombocyticpurpua
IgA Deficiency
Chronic fatigue syndrome
Fibromyalgia
Uticaria focal caused by who the fuck knows anymore
Bipolar II
Borderline personality disorder w/narcissistic tendencies
Anxiety disorder
Binge Eating Disorder
PTSD from all forms of abuse, violence and my miscarriages
Oh and I randomly black out for reasons they still don’t know

At least I don’t have cancer?

Well yall know me. I’m a sassy, snarky survivor that tries (sometimes too hard) and pushes myself (definitely to hard). So as I get my computer fixed I can continue writing the books that I have started. I am going back to school in the fall to get my bachelor in therapy for teens with mental and personality problems.
My dream is to open a coffeeshop, with mismatch in cushions that is a safe space. A Place Where IF YOU NEED help YOU HAVE someone to talk to. It’ll have books and board games and at ni h t there will be optional group meetings. THE Walls Wil BE DECORATED By PHOTOGRAPHS AND Art From Local artists. My photography studio will be in the back.

They are still fucking with my meds so if I say non sensible things In here I’m sorry. My fibro flares seem to be worse because of the rest of my diseases.

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I know some of my readers and fellow bloggers use this world as a safe space to vent. I want you to know that there are other places as well. I have my degree in therapy as does a few in my group, but that is not what the group is for.

This is what my group is all about.
Friendship, handholding, venting,laughing, crying and being the incredible human beings we are….even if we don’t see it some times.

If you want to you are invited to join us, to lurk, to talk, to listen and to make or 5.

Superhuman Spoonie Squad

I belive in you.

Sparkly love

Shaye

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Diagnosis

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You’ve been here before
You know what’s to come
You know the symptoms
The causes
The signs

You’ve spent months doing research
You’ve  talk to the doctors
You’ve talked to the therapists
Hours on Google
Sites they tell you not to read

The time has come
You sit in the waiting room
Those chairs eat to make you feel at home
But you feel it
The anxiety creeping up
You already know what’s to come
Why are you panicking

The needles go into your arm easily
That one good blood drawing vein
You managed not to pee all over your hands
When they give you a much to small cup
They check your vitals
Blood pressure cuffs that bruise
O2 monitors shows you’re perfect
But you’re not

This pain has been building for a long time now
The rashes
The blackouts
The sleepless nights
The snarky comments
The feelings of everything snowballing
The highs
The lows

Sony appointments
So many tests
Ekgs
Eegs
Mr is cats scans
Stress tests
Sleep studies
Trial pills

They call you into their office
You are 9
Your mom is there
You have Graves disease
We had to take out your thyroid
But at least it’s not cancer

You are confused, there are tears
But it’s ok, because Mom is ok
They do a Home Improvement episode
Randy has the same thing
You kind of understand
Then surgery

The weight starts to put on
You are a nervous teen
Uncomfortable in her own body
In her own mind
Not popular, but you best friend is
Popular by association
You are tired of being around all the bad stuff
You just want to sleep

You fill a bottle of pills
100 Benadryl 100 Tylenol
You sit next to your group at breakfast
In the crowded lunchroom
Make conversation
Take each pill one by one
No one notices
You wait for the bell
You are scared
You are 13

You take hold of your best friend’s best friends arm
You tell her to take you to the guidance counselor
You may die
Counselor calls your mom and 911
Mom yell at you profusely
Ambulance arrives
You are unconscious

Next thing you know is mom doting on you
Doctors asking for a psych evaluation
Mother denying it
They ask me about pictures
They never ask me why
The release me home

Everytime mom got upset
She’d throw a bottle if pills at me
Asked me if I wanted them
High school was chaos
I just wanted to fit in

Never didn’t have a boy friend
Did things for money
Experimented with girls
Then I got real sick
Mono, flu, ruptured appendix,flu,mono

The night my Father caught me smoking
Was the night get met me before class
At night school
Shiny white construction truck
Something was wrong

Get in
They think you have cancer
My heart stooped
Routine blood draw the day before
Came up with possible cancer
Had to go to the hospital now
Mom was hysterical
And waiting

We didn’t talk
I smoked his cigarettes
He didn’t say a word
Blood tests
Had to come back in the morning for a bone marrow
Might be luekimia

Didn’t sleep
Bone marrow test sucked
Hematology/Oncology Peds ward sucked
I was pulled out of my senior year
Soent days there
Without Luekimia
With Immunothrombocyticpurpua

I was allergic to the treatments
They had to give me longer ones
With other thing
To keep me from dying
But at least it wasn’t cancer
I missed senior year
I was 17

They told me I’d never have babies
They told me lots of things
Because I would always have chronic illnesses
But I met Drew Barrymore
I week later I met Trip
Two weeks after that I was pregnant

High risk
Moved to VA to be near him
Shotgun wedding
Known each other 3 months
Everyone wanted the baby gone but me
He was my baby.
Couldn’t drive
Couldn’t do much of anything
Felt insane

Hospital time
I’m allergic to latex (I didn’t know)
My son is perfect
Trips been sleeping around
6 weeks later I start to bruise
Hematology said if I  dont come now
I could die.
If it weren’t for my new born I would have gone.

The abuse started then, emotional, mental
We got physical a few times
He lost his job, I got one
We got pregnant
I lost Hope
It was devestating
We called our marriage quits

Then the barrage of insults
I had gotten too fat, lazy, bad wife
Meanwhile he was sleeping with
My best friend
One last hurrah on my 25th birthday
Pixie was implanted

He saw her sonogram 3 months later and left me at the doctors office
Took little man with him
It was our 2 year anniversary

That pregnancy was hard
Living in a small room 
In mom’s house
Slept in a twin bed with my son
Fetal cardiologist everyweek
2 vessel cord
No husband
Drove 45 each way to work
In another state
Started having blackouts

Into the world she came
Out of mom’s we went
Well first came meds because I had such bad post part depression
I could let any one touch her

Then my little man got diagnosed
With sensory peception disorder
I knew something was wrong
But give it a name and it’s real
And scary

Fast forward
Hand shaking
my four year old
still doesn’t articulate much
I know the answer but I’m scared someone else may say it
Then it’s real
Autism
Aspergers
Anxiety disorder

Slap
Slap
Slap

I knew I knew all along but
To hear it describe
To know my angel baby is going to have
Some form if difficulties
That’s hard

Ot. Pt, TSS, BSC, Speech therapy
And I work
Because Kie is jobless
And well bills need paying
Pixie needs day care

The the break happens, my break
Thrown against a wall
Accusations flying
Abuse thrown at me
I hoped she choke me out of kill me
It hurt so much

I broke
Doc sent me to out patient
A mental hospital
WITH Crazy People
But it was that or being 302’d
They didn’t diagnose at first

They watched
interviewed
Tapped their FUCKING PENS
Used NOS as an excuse
Loaded me with so many meds
I couldn’t remember my name

I knew what was wrong
But I wasn’t prepared
Bipolar II ok gotcha on that
Anxiety disorder ok feeling ya
Borderline personality disorder
WITH NARCISSISTIC TENDENCIES
Scuse me? What the WHAT?

SLAP
SLAP
SLAP

Speechless
More meds please
At least it wasn’t cancer?

I read books
Tried to understand
And IT made sense
I could live with it
But refused to take all the meds
That was a struggle

But a blackout
Leading to a major car accident
Made them agree with me.

Fast forward…
Diagnosis – Binge Eating disorder
Diagnosis – CFS
Diagnosis – IgA Deficiency
Diagnosis – hives due to allergy from progesterone
Diagnosis – fetal heart stopped beating, need to induce labor and force miscarriage
Diagnosis – Fibromyalgia

No matter how mich you know, to have a doctor tell you anything, it hurts, a lot. And I know I’ll get through it. But I’m scared. Scared of more things wrong. Everything hurts. Pain in touch, to sunlight, no sleep,  no real awake. Of this is a dream I want to wake up. Because it’s a nightmare.

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What am I fighting for?

Well whilst I can’t answer this directly on here just yet as it was a question posted for gishwhes.  I will say, things have not been peachy and there are days I feel like I am fighting for my life.