The Flood

The flood. The flood.

The flood of blood forming a radiant halo of red that surrounds my little angel encased in swollen fleshy pipe. Heaven is right where we are standing and is all you will ever know.

The flood. The flood.

The flood of clear liquid pouring over my puffy pincushion organ, with petite fingers waving and bleeding as if pricked by those needles of sharp steel, comparable to the dagger of his blank stare that pierced my pleading gaze forever implanted in time.

The flood. The flood.

The flood of emotion ~ an outpour of despair, frustration, anger, anguish and regret. Why us? Why now? Why ever? Why me?

The flood. The flood.

The flood of sterile medicine water coursing its way through my bluish veins destined to kill what pulses and grows inside me. I was responsible for creating it and then sweeping it all away.

The flood. The flood.

The flood of tears uncontrollably streaming down my tired face, leaving crusty steaks of sticky salt, forming a death mask, filling my heart with grief as tiny images of what could have been inundate my woeful mind.

The flood. The flood.

The flood is wreaking havoc along its disastrous path, bursting its way through my sacred temple, eliminating any evidence of life within, yet I continually inhabit areas threatened by flood damage since repeated periodic flooding brings me even closer to you.

Copyright ©2009 Sarah B. Paquette


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2/4 - Beta = 112 hCG, 11 P4
2/6 - Beta = 284 hCG
2/10 - Beta = 275 hCG - ectopic pregnancy
2/11 - Beta = 386 hCG - Methotrexate shot

I bent over a cold examining chair yesterday to be injected twice in my upper ass with methotrexate…10 days ago I was told I was pregnant. 2 days ago I was told it was ectopic ~ the baby is growing in my right tube. 2 years of trying…and it finally happens. The wrong way. I was responsible for creating this life and then I was responsible for killing it. Sign here on the dotted line. omyfuckinggod.

I cried heavily throughout the entire process. I tightly grasped my husband's hand. The nurse hugged us afterward. It was over. I went home. The end. Or is it?

I fucking hate infertility. I’m sick and tired of people telling me to relax, that god will answer our prayers, or that maybe if we took a vacation, it will just happen…PLAH! I feel like utter shit and look like utter shit. I missed work this week. I need time to grieve.

Eventually, the sun shining through my window will be welcome. Afterall, we only get this one life to live. And I’ll be damned if I let infertility take over mine completely. Until then...I'm pulling down the blinds.