Hung Over


I am now recovering from a bad hang over. Hubby and I were having a nice day together yesterday, he was applying to jobs online and I was making fresh pots of coffee for him over and over. Hey the coffee was good. Anyhow shortly after eating dinner my anger, that terribly ugly side of me came over me. I was spewing hatred and anger. I can’t beleive it, but I actually felt the anger and hurt course through my body.

I was (and still am) angry, enraged and livid at his parents for never coming over when I was recovering from the still birth. They have not to this date ACKNOWLEDGED that we lost little E. I have always had issue with his parents because…

I am too fat…

too dark…

when we were dating i was…

too young…

not making enough money and still in school…

Always something.

But not to be there for her? My baby? Not to even say i’m sorry for your loss?

I made it very clear to hubby. The only way my relationship with his parents can be repaired is if they appologize to me and to E. THAT’S IT!

I’m not holding my breath. It will never happen. Last call I got from his mother was in reference to her son being sad. Always seeming sad. How I may be a burden with all my crying and all.

Hello…you fucking neanderthal, HE LOST HIS CHILD TOO! HE IS SUPPOSED TO BE SAD.

Ugh, I just can’t stand it any longer. They are fucking dead to me, along with his fucking sister, that calls looking for hubby, and has the gall to ask: “So, how’s it going?” Just two weeks after our loss.

I could murder the bitch.

There is always an excuse for his parents…that they are brutes, uneducated, but well-meaning people. But that excuse is pure bull. Sympathy, even pity (hey i’ll take it), can not be taught.

All those years of disrespect from his parents, direct and indirect comments, and their fucking backwards clouded and warped logic has taken its toll.


No more insults. No more of my wonderful but sometimes retarded, dumb, not a man, missing-his-balls husband just standing there and not defending me. No more. No more feeling inadequate and not feeling beautiful. No more of them taking my dignity and treating me like a doormat. If they won’t give me or my daughter our place and if my husband does not have the balls or courage to take a stand, I sure fucking do.

Sure they are good peoople. Sure they’ll lend you a hand, and give you food. They’ll share a laugh with you. But who the fuck was there for me? Who helped me lift my head, when all I saw was darkness and stars? Who helped me out of bed when I was weak and alone while recovering? Who wiped my tears when the room was spinning in my dizzied head and and my emotions were raw and angry? Who helped me to the bathroom? Alleviated my thirst? Hugged me? Just hubby when he would come home from work. Hubby did the best he could, and he is my hero for it. But we needed others, tragedy calls for others, and I guess all those years of bullshit bbq’s, drinks, dominoes and retarded, hurtful comments, did not warrant that.

I had my mother over the phone along with my grandmother to comfort me. I needed more. If there was ever a time when I needed my mother’s touch and carresses, if there was ever a time I needed to feel like a newborn myself, it was then. My hubby should have let my mom visit, he reallly thought we could do it on our own. But this hurt was just to big for us at the time.

It is like a cancer, I must channel it, and I am working on it. And so last night, after my bitch-fit, I began drinking like a drunken and was briefly truly happy. I showered and told myself that tonight I got to be someone else. Tonight I was going to be the most beautiful woman in the club. The one other women would envy and men would desire. I was not going to be the infertile, the mother of a dead baby and a living Angel. Tonight, I would be envied, instead of me enving other women, for a change. And so I did my hair and put on my tight sexy skirt with the thigh high splits, and my revealing top. I loaded on the make-up, body glitter and perfume and looked my intoxicating best (literally). Yes, yesterday along with our friends DS and PG we went dancing and I was happy and very drunk.

…and now I am very hung over and his parents and sis are dead. Funny how in this hang over things are suddenly very clear…


About Jessica Emilia

Mother, wife, grief survivor, dancer, yogi, feminine, baker, cook, lover, fighter, perfectly imperfect, optimistic, pessimistic, reader, writer, funny, sarcastic, compassionate, emphatic, sympatheric, HR Pro, anxious, confident, supernatural, hocus-pocus, friend, daughter and momma again...

One response »

  1. I have “dead to me” relatives too. I’m sorry that your in-laws haven’t been more supportive of your loss. Losing a child is probably the hardest thing you’ll ever go through and I’m just so very sorry that they’re not there for you.

    I wish I could have been,

Leave a Notion!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s