this is my life

what my day includes. how everything works. how i feel. &&&& why i still carry on.
Yesterday’s theme, I swear.

Yesterday’s theme, I swear.

Baby Days - a month in

Holy. Hell. If I would of known I’d be this sick and this ready to pull my hair out…I might of said screw it at the beginning and wished that the miscarriage would of happened. Then again, at the beginning I was accepting this because my other half wasn’t going to be involved. We were split up, and I was ready to tackle this little bundle of joy by myself. Now that he’s involved, everything has changed. Suddenly I’m trying to balance his schedule and my own to be able to fit in this baby stuff. And I’m trying to relax these pregnant hormones so that I don’t set off his shitty temper…or my own for that fact. Granted he’s promised to try and be more patient and understanding, he’s not exactly coming off as it right now. I know that his trainer pushes him, and I was told they had a big jealousy talk this morning and maybe that’s what is tripping his trigger. But still, I’m controlling this crap I have going on inside of me and he can’t control his?

Not to mention, I’m tired of being sick. Puking more than three times a day can not be healthy. I have the urge to cry randomly and I’m finding out that sleep is my best friend right now….that is when it’s nice enough to stop by to hang out.

extra stress...jackass

  • Me: Guess you don't really want to talk right now?
  • Him: Nah, you go ahead and talk to the other guys texting you.

Baby Days - initially

It wasn’t that long ago that I could remember holding a baby for the first time. My mother sat on one side of me, my godmother on the other. My eyes were wide and I was in awe. Of course every little girls has her dolls and loves them dearly, but that little baby girl was living. She had eyes that blinked and little tiny fingers and toes. And that little girl was part of my family. She was my godmother’s daughter, and I was perhaps eight. I was a small little girl with green eyes and long brown hair. And I sat impatiently waiting for that baby to be passed to me. “Make sure you support her head.” My mother had said as she positioned my arms for the little baby known as Terra to be placed in them. She was handed to me, and I couldn’t help but grin ecstatically. It was a moment I’ll never forget, and neither will my godmother. There’s a picture of it. Me sitting on a couch, with the first baby I had ever held. A cheesy wide grin spread across my face, and my eyes so lit up with excitment. I’ve always loved kids, and it had always been my dream to have one. Growing up I was the girl who went through tons of dolls, and babysat the instant she could. I took care of all the little kids at family gatherings and made sure that nobody was hurt. My motherly instinct was something I always took pride in. But, how could I not? It was just so easy, so….perfect. And I knew that one day, I would find the guy who would make my world complete, and I would have to babysit anymore. I could have my own children. 


But never did I think it was going to happen this early. I grew up quickly, and I always wanted commitment…though a kid was always something I wanted to wait until I was at least twenty to take part in. Anything under seemed just a little too young for me. I couldn’t help it really, it was just the way my brain worked. I understood that people accomplished raising children at much younger ages then myself, but it just wasn’t my cup of tea. But I met this guy. Isn’t that where it all starts? A girl meets a guy and he sweeps her off of her feet and they run off into the sunset living happily ever after. But this guy wasn’t just any guy. In fact, if there was an opposite to me…it was him. I’m the make love not war girl. I wear beatles shirts and have messy hair. I wear some makeup, but not enough to make me look like another person. I enjoy flip flops even in the winter months and I always always always have music going. It’s not hardcore music either,…it’s usually something pretty light and fun…though it can sometimes be something that nobody knows.  He’s the fighter. Mr All Star. Football, soccer, baseball, basketball, hockey. Mr MMA. Putting time into the gym from 6am to 1pm where he goes to work right after and I’m luck to see him when he’s off at 10:30 and finally home at 11. His music is hardly anything I’d let my ears listen to….though half of it isn’t bad, I’ll admit to that. His temper is something that many couldn’t deal with, and it’s a test every single day we’re together. By no means is he perfect, and by no means am I. But we make it work. Or we did. 


A month back we broke up. Both of us had enough. The fighting was turning into a daily ordeal, and it was quickly too much. It was agreed that we should just split up for the better of both worlds. Neither of us expected the other to find a way back into each other’s life. But apparently…God had other plans. I’m not one to hate on religion, nor am I one to agree with every aspect. But by some sort of magic sorts, here we are. A month into pregnancy. For a week I had doctor appointments every other day, as I was oddly bleeding more than I should be. My doc had told me that there was a possible miscarriage. I immediately told my ex, and without a second thought or hesitation…he was ready to try to be with me again. It was agreed that both of us would try and change. We needed to be more patient, learn to control tempers…and most of all trust the other person and learn to love over eveything and everyone. This baby currently nestled inside of my body will have two loving and caring parents. And if it comes into this world as a boy, he will have the name of Chance or Chandler. As for a little baby girl…it’s undecided. Guess she’ll have a pull over him more so than I…or at least that’s what I’m told. A month in….and still strong.

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.

—Elizabeth Stone