*The image above is the cover to a story that I'm working to share and work through this second round of grief.  *

I sit here, holding my proverbial pen over digital paper and wonder what I could possibly write about my life these past few years that I've been absent from my online life.  Am I hoping for a retrospective confirmation that I'm still on a path of healing and away from self-imposed negativity?  It started during 2017 with a separation from my partner after marriage.  I understand why it was needed, but I still tried to be reasonable and give the family I stayed with a helping hand.  It led me down a dark and lonely road where I thought about using the loss of my life to hurt another.  I realized before carrying through with such a thought that I didn't want to throw this away to cause pain.  The person wouldn't have cared in that moment in time.  I can't speak for them, but I know now that it would've hurt far deeper that I imagined and different kind of family feud would've been causes by my death.  I sat up that night, chosen for the fact that it was person's birthday and said, No.  I chose instead to live and walk away from that negativity, and the people I believed were responsible for it.  I still wonder if it was my fault that I couldn't get through to them. 

2018-2019 Jobs come and go, I learned that I'm definitely a support type of work personnel and though I tried for a management position it wasn't for me.   I changed jobs and started to become productive at work.  Then I was diagnosed with bilateral plantar faucitis that became so bad the doctor was recommending either an injection or surgery.  Stretching would only alleviate the pain for that night.  It would trigger after four to five hours of being on my feet no matter what I was up and about doing.  It eased up after self-imposed bedrest.

2020 Covid appeared and ramped up.  During this time, I started to notice signs that lead to us to discovering that my hubby and I were pregnant.  I'll be honest here, I still had suppressed anger at those I walked away from during this time.  I don't know if this affect my pregnancy and what happened next.  I changed diet and drink and a few lifestyle traits mostly trying to be easier on my body.  Then June came around with its excess heat and peak work hours.  I pushed myself not wanting to be thought of weak or slacking off.  Yet, still trying to enjoy and experience my first pregnancy fully.  By July I started to notice that I couldn't keep water in my body, I would drink and 15 minutes later I had to pee.  I felt like a constant waterfall.  Even reaching out to work and medical sources got me laughed at and told it's normal.  Only, to find out at 18 weeks pregnant that we were losing him, the offered abortion.  I said, no.  Better to return home and hope for the best, even with a chief specialist telling me my son had a one percent chance to live.  Premature rupture of the membranes was the cause of the loss of my son.  I held him within me until I knew he was gone.  Still born, my precious, beautiful son.  I took pictures of use holding his still, cold form.  I only held him from when he was born to around noon, before we had to let him go.  We weren't being forced; we just knew that if we kept him, we hurt ourselves more.  Covid was made me wonder if the medical community was to paranoid to help my son and I fully.  I want to believe that I got what information and help that I could to try to save my son before losing him.  I still lay awake wondering if there was more that I could do.  Then the life continued onward, I was still trying to make something of life after such an event.  With family and friends offering what support they could.  I also lost out on the chance to take over my brother's home by buying it that same week that I lost my son.  It seems small compared, but it stacked onto what I had already gone through and made both feel like utter failures on my part.

In March 2021 lost my job as I was unable to stay committed to a schedule while continuing to work.  I should've switched internally to something more flexible workwise, taking advantage of not having to go back to work right away.  I didn't want to be less than an able working woman.  My view and self-worth still need some work to do like the Serenity Prayer says.  It was also then that I found out my mind and emotions had been in a numb since my son's loss.  I realized with acute clarity that my treasured mind had been broken by the trauma.  I wasn't sure anymore that I could be strong, independent and

able to work a regular job that smiled through the hardships, annoyances and etc.  I stayed home bound to heal my body, but I know now that I ignored my mental and emotional state.   I did have a kids within my family to help raise and focus on.  Especially, one born the same year as my first born son.  I really attached to him and stole him whenever I could.  Though I wouldn't keep him from his parents, I did notice as they did that I was using their little one to heal.

Now it's 2022 and I was still fighting anxiety about the workplace, grief and being able to get where I needed to go even with family still offering help.  No one pushed, they each tried to understand in the their own way and still patiently encourage me to move forward with my life.  My husband and I moved about and discovered new places with other members of our family.  We started over again in a new state, city and home.  A new pregnancy a second surprise and another baby boy.  Nerves and fears as each milestone week passed.  Extra medical and personal precautions that eased a little of my nerves and fears.  Consistent contact with the women in my family to update them on my day to day.  Cooking like crazy, hopeful for a second chance.  20 weeks pregnant past, trying to keep up with the water regiment, light exercise and healthy meals while still indulging the cravings.  21 weeks, nothing out of the normal, healthy baby boy.  22 a booger like, but nothing that was out of the normal.  Then the following week, my body felt hyper alert, irritated and heavy.  We left for the hospital and déjà vu hit us, seeing too much of a parallel to when we lost our first.  Scared, but trying to keep the hope.  My body had been experiencing real contractions that just felt like a heaviness to me.  I am told that I have priority over saving my son.  Some sort of infection was running through me.  The wouldn't be able to save us both but I opt for just that.  Keep my pregnancy and they in turn keep watch over both us.  My second son is delivered, but his chance of survival depends on if he can make it past three days.  He reaches the second before signs of failure.  Another decision, another failure.  Why?  I don't know if it's right to say that the second time was easier yet still hard to bear. 

But, I know that sitting here having typed out all of this, speaking about my boys and what I went through still brings me to tears, tears that I fight back, suppressed breaths and muted feelings.  I know I'm not ready to go back to the workplace, to be out among other people, but I try to live a life.  I am still sure that I need more time to heal, grieve and just be.  I'm just losing patience with myself, I want to do something worthwhile, working, supporting, living and yet still able to step back and feel through what I need too.  I don't want professional help, medicine, drugs, therapist won't change the two very permanent losses, empty spots in my life, at least not to me.  However, I don't want to be stuck moving forward on the outside and standing still within.  So, here I am returned to my sanctuary, returned to another part of my family and wandering the hallowed halls with a different, much needed company.

I do not mind your honest responses, silence, lurks, or shenanigans.  Just know I may be quiet for a different reason that's laid out here.

*Leaves a blood red rose that still pulses with life for each and every one of you.  Kissing each one in turn as I lay them around this written piece of mine. *