Part 5 Of What Happened To Me

I'm not sure how long it took for him to finish this particular act of rape/sodomy. I do know it often felt like I wasn't really there. I felt him physically but it felt like it was happening in the background. That probably doesn't make sense. I can only assume I was disassociating from what was happening. In some ways it felt like my brain was recording what was happening but not processing it. I mean I remember the things that were happening to me but it's like they weren't being understood and processed. I have a lot of trouble remembering the events of what happened to me in nonlinear terms. Meaning that skipping from the beginning to the end or to anywhere in between are difficult for me. Maybe a better description of what I mean would be this. With a CD you can push the skip button to play the next track but if you are listening to an audio cassette tape you have to fast forward because there's no skip button. My memory of the time I spent in that van is like one long 23 hour track. If I am going to write about something that happened in the middle, I first need to write about all the things that led up to the middle. This is what makes me think my brain simply recorded the events but didn't process them. This is the number one reason why I'm telling my story in order, because it's the only way I know how.

After he finished this particular act of sodomy he finally uncuff my wrists from over my head. He held me by my wrists with my hands against his chest. He kept telling me to look him in the eyes, but I didn't want to look at him. I just wanted to close my eyes and hope that when I opened them I would be home in bed and that all of this was a horrible nightmare. He said to me, "I told you I was going to make you more comfortable".

He pushed me down on to the air mattress that he had previously aired up and placed on the floor. He then lay down on it behind me and wrapped his arms around me like we just got finished making love. WTF, what kind of sick bastard can punch, rape, sodomize another person and then lay down with them and hold them as gently as he held me? HE PUT HIS ARM UNDER MY HEAD LIKE IT WAS A PILLOW. HE USED HIS OTHER ARM TO REACH AROUND ME AND HOLD MY HAND WHILE HUGGING ME AT THE SAME TIME. HE EVEN KISSED ME ON THE BACK OF MY NECK LIKE WE JUST FINISHED SHARING OURSELVES. For lack of a better description, he cuddled with me like I always hoped the man I would choose to first make love to would cuddle with me afterwards, but we didn't make love, he raped me. He forced himself into me without my consent and then he stole my first comforting cuddle after making love by staining it with his sick and twisted cuddle. I cry thinking about it. As disgusting and as wrong as it was to have him holding me in a twisted lie of intimacy, there was something that he said to me that was far worse. Right before he went to sleep, right before he felt such a sense of contentment that he went to SLEEP, he whispered in my ear, "I love you Jaime".

How do I process what he said? How do I process the gentle feeling and the lie of his arms wrapped around me in a seemingly loving way? I know it was all lies and that his actions were evil and predatory, but for this 30 minute nap/cuddle it felt eerily similar to the ideal physical cuddle feeling after making love. The difference is I was hurting, I was bleeding, and I didn't feel loved, but I did feel hated, used, and empty. I wonder about the future and what will happen if I am ever able to trust enough to get close to someone and make love to them. Will I be able to cuddle with them or will I feel as sick as I felt in the van with his arms around me? Will I hear the words "I LOVE YOU" without it being a constant reminder of what happened to me in his van? I really have no idea. Dad, grandma, my little sister, friends, online friends, and teachers have told me many times since I was raped that they love me. In my heart I know they do, I know they love me but those three words sound like lies. Not only do I have a totally irrational feeling of being undeserving of love, but I also have trouble accepting that the words are true or that they have meaning. I don't know what I'm saying.

During this time when I could feel that he had fallen asleep, I tried to slowly move out from his arms but each time I did his arms tensed up around me and his hand gripped my hand. I had no choice but to lay next to him. I cried and cried in silence as I heard his breaths and felt them on the back of my neck.

I'm trying to put all of this in a timeline of sorts. When I first climbed into his van it was about 10:30 pm September 2nd, 2011. This part of my story took place between 12:30 am - 1:00 am, September 3rd, 2011. I am putting this in a timeline to help me process it. I guess they are sort of like track markers, beginnings and endings of tracks of time as I finally try to process what happened to me in small segments.

A Description Of A Dream/Nightmare

This is one of the dreams that I have quite often, of course there are several versions of this dream but for the most part they are the same. Last Monday while in therapy I brought up the fact that I have been having bad dreams that often turn into ultra real nightmares. She wanted me to talk about them that day but I was feeling really uncomfortable talking about them plus I really needed to talk about the events that happened to me last Wednesday. However I do believe the topic of discussion this coming Monday will be about my dreams. Being that this dream is a description of the dream I had this morning it will likely be the specific one I talk about.

Begin Trigger Warning - Begin Dream

I open my eyes but all I see is darkness. I don't even see the slightest bit of ambient light. There are no shadows, sounds, or sense of anything in this room or place. There's a total lack of sensory input. I can't even tell if I'm standing, sitting, or lying down. There's no sense of gravity or even what's up or down. I can't feel my body, I have no discernible physical attributes and for all accounts I am simply consciousness.

After what seems to be an eternity I begin to feel a physical sensation. It's very vague at first but slowly I feel tingling that feels like it starts behind my eyes and then spreads throughout my body until it reaches my finger tips and toes. Unfortunately the tingling doesn't go away, instead it builds and hurts all over similar to the feeling of blood rushing back into an extremity. Much like the feeling of having a hand or arm that has fallen asleep but 10 times more intense. As this sensation begins to fade I hear scratching sounds that's similar to fingernails on a chalkboard. Long drawn out scratches that move from one location in this pitch black place to another. I hear it sporadically in front of me, behind me, above and below me. It's a sound that's all around but I can tell it's a distant sound. Soon the sound becomes louder and I can tell the source of this sound is moving closer.

I feel a huge sense of nervousness, a sense of an impending danger but I am unable to move. I'm frozen but it's not fear that hold me captive, it's something else. Slowly as the tingling in my extremities fades even more, I can feel myself being stretched in 3 direction at the same time. My hands are grasping one another but even if I released my grasp they wouldn't part. My wrists are hurting, they are burning, they feel like they are in a vise. My ankles feel much the same way but they aren't stuck together, they are pulled from one another.

The scratching sound keeps getting closer and it's soon replaced by a quiet growl and breathing sound. The growl doesn't sound human, nor does the breathing. It sounds predatory, it sounds like evilness stalking its prey. I hear very quiet foot steps slowly stalking me. I begin to feel my weight and can finally discern up from down. I'm lying on my back, the floor is cold and hard. I suddenly realize why I feel trapped, I am trapped. My hands are being held over my head and my wrists are being pushed against the floor.

I smell a stench similar to a dirty wet dog and feel something dripping on me. I don't know what it is or where it's dripping from. Then from above my face I feel a breath, a hot, damp breath that floods my face, nose, and eyes. This room begins to transition from pitch black to that of a late evening. A form, a dark shape begins to become visible overtop of me. I see a mouth with pointed teeth and eyes glowing a pulsating and very deep red. This beast is salivating and it's saliva is dripping on my face in anticipation of it's feast. I look around but there's nothing for this beast to feast on, there's no food, and suddenly I realize that I'm his feast.

The beast growls and howls as it moves over-top of me. I feel it's massive weight and I feel my body being torn into shreds. It's teeth drip with my blood and I can feel myself begin to die. My will to live is diminishing and my soul is evaporating. My own breaths become shallow and labored as this beast reaches into my mouth grasping my tongue, pulling it out just long enough to bite it off. I try to cry out for help but I'm choking on my own blood that's filling my mouth. I cough, spitting a red mix of blood an saliva into the face of the beast. The beast's claw is pointing at me, his claw moves closer to my face. It carves a line down the side of my face, splitting my skin like a scalpel. I try to scream for help but the only sound I make is a gurgling sound. This beast leans in an laps his tongue in and out of my mouth, savoring the taste of my blood. Then it uses the same claw it used to cut my face to tap on my forehead as if it was contemplating what to do next. It didn't have to think long. Its claw entered the corner of my left eye and pried out my eye. With the only eye I had left I seen the beast chew my severed eye and then swallow it. As I saw the same claw coming toward my other eye, I closed my eyelid and began to pray. I kept waiting to feel my other eye be ripped out but it doesn't happen.

The room once again goes silent. I wait, and wait, and wait for any sound, any movement but I hear nothing. I want to open my eye to see if the beast is still there but I'm too scared. I lay there nearly motionless for what seems like an hour. Finally I gain the courage to open my eye. I'm surrounded by 5 or 6 beasts. Each beast is uniquely different than the one next to them. The one that was feasting on me was also there and it must have been the leader. It growled and snarled as if it was telling the other beasts to remain still. Then it stepped backward into the shadows of the other beasts. With sudden viciousness all the other beast swarmed me. Piece by piece I felt myself being torn into chunks and then swallowed.

End Trigger Warning - End Dream

This is when I awake from my dream. I'm usually screaming and covered in sweat.

This is a reoccurring dream that I have had at least a dozen times in the past 9 weeks. I am going to try and talk about this face to face with my therapist this coming Monday. I don't know if I will be able to.

I want this dream to stop, and I would do nearly anything to stop it.

Tripping Over Rocks On A Downhill Slide - A Very Bad Day

Tuesday night November 2nd, 2011 I was having some really vivid and horrible flashbacks. This started early Tuesday evening but continued on throughout the night. These weren't the usual flashbacks where a new detail to the memory of that event came rushing in, these were more like a reliving of the horror I felt on an emotional, spiritual, and physical level. I haven't been able to sleep and I was so tired on this Tuesday, but every time I closed my eyes I felt trapped in the memory of those events. Several times before I went to bed for the night I dozed off on the couch, but I would awake screaming and flailing my arms at the guy who hurt me. The thing is the only people that were there with me would never hurt me. My little sister was freaking out, she was crying because I was waking up so startled. Dad was jumping each time I screamed also. He tried to hold me and tell me everything was okay, but I know he was getting frustrated. At least two times while I was having one of these flashbacks dad tried to wrap his arms around me and tell me it was okay. When this was happening I honestly couldn't see a difference between the monster who's now in jail awaiting sentence and my dad who was trying to comfort me. All I felt was arms around me, restraining me, controlling me, and not letting me free. I fought my dad as if he was that guy, and more than once, more than he deserved, I hit him. This pretty much continued through Tuesday night and into Wednesday morning.

Wednesday morning I was lying in bed staring into the darkness of the room when the alarm clock buzzed to let me know it was time to get ready for school. If I would have been able to sleep I would have ignored the alarm clock and the fact that I needed to go to school by covering my head with the blanket and disappearing. Dad gave me a ride to school and I apologized to him for reacting the way I did toward him during my flashbacks. He told me something that I couldn't get out of my head, something that inadvertently made me feel worse than I already did. "Jaime, you just have to realize that as horrible as it was for you while you were in that van, it is over with now", dad said. It wasn't really what he said to me as much as it was the tired and frustrated look of his face and the sound of his voice. I felt horrible for putting dad and my sister through all of this. They deserve better. I literally hated myself and my life for what I was doing to my friends and family.

While I was at school I was struggling to understand everything that was going on around me. I was so tired and everyone around me seemed to be moving in fast forward while I was nearly catatonic. Very little of what my friends talked about made any sense; even the things the teacher talked about didn't make sense. We had to take a math test that I nearly failed because I didn't even finish it, I couldn't concentrate. My teacher knew I was struggling and although she is normally very understanding she said to me, "I know you're having a difficult time but you need to get past this so that your grades don't get any worse. Good colleges require good grades". I didn't even verbally reply I just nodded my head in compliance.

After class a guy that I know that I neither considered a friend, acquaintance, or even an enemy cornered me in the stairwell. If it would have been a few months ago his come on tactic may have worked, but all I felt was intimidation. He backed me into the corner, he was playing the whole "bad boy" routine. Just being face to face with a guy who I didn't know made me feel uncomfortable, but he also put his hands against the wall on either side of me, blocking my exit. At first I was terrified and I almost screamed. He apparently could tell that I was scared and he asked me what was wrong. I didn't say anything, I just tried to walk away but I couldn't get past his arms. I asked him to move out of my way but he didn't. He asked me if I would go out on a date with him. At this moment I relaxed a little because I realized he was just asking me out and using the whole "bad boy" routine. I guess he thought the "bad boy" attitude would be exciting. I politely told him that I wasn't interested. To make a long story short, he didn't take rejection too well. He called me a tease, slut, tramp, and he even told me that he heard that I was good at opening my legs and letting guys do whatever they want as long as the guy is forceful. By this time there were a few other students that were seeing what was going on and I was able to get out from the corner he had me backed into. As I was walking away I heard him tell his buddy, and I quote, "I guess I have to get my own van if I want to get some of that". I didn't turn around and even acknowledge what he said. He received a laugh from his buddy and someone; I don't know who called him an asshole.

If someone wants to ask me out, they're welcome to but be polite. If I say no, don't take it personally. I'm just not in a place right now where I'm mentally interested in going on a date. Him putting his arms up and blocking me from leaving was bad enough, but him calling me a slut and implying that I'm easy was rude. I have never had voluntary sex, I have only been raped and I doubt that makes me a slut. Even worse the comment he made as I was walking away proved that he knew what happened to me. My best friend in the whole world, a friend that I have known since I was 9 years old when my family moved back to America, she told me that the guy from the hallway was a longtime friend of the guy who raped me. I have personally tried to verify or debunk that information but have been unable to, but it seems logical because some wording that the guy in the van used was the same as what the guy in the hallway used. The guy in the van said to me several times after I gave up and quit fighting, "YOU ARE GOOD AT OPENING YOUR LEGS AND LETTING A FORCEFUL MAN IN".  It wasn't a word for word quote, but the meaning was the same and the wording was close enough to reasonably assume that the guy in the hallway and the guy in the van either knew each other before all of this or have talked to each other since.

I didn't even stick around for the rest of the school day, I asked my friend to give me a ride home. Although she didn't want to leave school to give me a ride home she did, she knew how upset I was. When I got home I sat in a kitchen chair blankly staring out the kitchen window for at least an hour, then I did as I often do to distract myself from myself. I logged on to the internet and there wasn't much happening on After Silence so I decided to signup for another support forum. One of my friends from After Silence is a member of this forum and a different woman I know in real life from group therapy is also a member. Which coincidentally happens to be a woman that I met before all of this ever happened to me? I first met her at a yard sell that she was having. I was looking for a notebook computer and she just happened to have one. When I saw that same woman 3 months later in group therapy I was shocked. Anyway I'm getting off track here. I signed up for this other forum and immediately tried to find her but was unable to, however I did find my friend from After Silence and let her know that I was a member there too.

I immediately began to post, nothing personal about me or what happened to me. It was mostly posts attempting to show support for others on their threads. It always seems to be a distraction from my own issues when I'm trying to help others. One person made a post about wanting to self harm as a means of coping with their own pain. I made a reply where I did my best to show my support for this person. In my reply I mentioned the same method of self harm that the original thread starter had already mentioned. Not too long after I made a reply I received a message from one of the moderators of that other support forum saying that they edited my reply because I mentioned a method of self harm which had already been mentioned in the thread by the original poster. This moderator wasn't rude but it did hit me the wrong way. It was like salt was thrown into my festering wounds. I was just trying to help this person and I didn't use any language or methodology that the original poster didn't already use. I checked my post and saw that my reply wasn't even censored in a smart way, the entire meaning, was changed and it didn't make sense anymore because the entire paragraph that had the word " c u t t i n g " in it was removed.

Between what happened to me in that van 9 weeks ago, my inability to move past this, me driving my family and friends up the wall, what the guy in the hallway said to me, and the feeling of being a failure at trying to help others caused me to snap. I deleted the 8 or so comments that I made on that forum and sent a message telling the moderators to close my account. I haven't been back to that forum since.

TRIGGER WARNING FOR THE NEXT PART

Everything just built up to a breaking point, I was the only one at home and I decided that I didn't want to live anymore. I decided that I didn't want to be a burden to my family and friends. I sat down and began to write a post for my personal blog. While I was writing my post I received a text message from my friend that drove me home from school. She let me know that she got in trouble for leaving school and was given detention. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of vodka that had been sitting in the cabinet for well over a year and began to drink. I don't know if I was trying to drink away my pain, or trying to drink till I died. My memory is a little fuzzy of some of the things for the next several hours. I carried the bottle of vodka into my room along with a gun and finished my blog post with the last few lines reading, (verbatim)

"I'm sorry for all the pain I will cause my family and friends but I can't take it anymore. I have a loaded gun and it is ready to shoot. When I finish drinking this bottle and making this post I am going to use it. Mom I will see you in 30 seconds".

There was more to the post I made but I can't remember most of it. I remember actually looking forward to ending it so that I could see my mom again. After I submitted my crazy blog post I took a few deep breaths and looked at the gun in my hand through my vodka glazed and teared eyes and raised the gun to my heart. Somewhere along the lines my little sister and dad came home. Amie, my little sister burst into my room like she always does and saw the gun pointing at my chest. She screamed for dad and he ran in. I don't remember him taking the gun out of my hand, but he told me that he had to force it out of my hand.

END TRIGGER

Although I don't remember most of the next 3 hours I do know that dad arranged to have my little sister stay the night over one of her friend's house. He also got my grandma who lives in Alabama to temporarily move up here for however long it takes to make sure I'm okay. Dad doesn't think I should be alone. Dad and I talked; well he talked while I cried myself in and out of a semiconscious drunken state. I wasn't even thinking about the fact that I left a post on my blog about hurting myself for the entire world to see. I'm not going to go into details here because I don't think it would be fair. The short story is that at least 3 people who read my blog saw part or all of my post. One of them tried desperately to contact me to find out if I was okay, but after being unable to reach me this person called the police. It's a long story with details that I'm not going to go into here, but I ended up erasing myself from much of the internet. I deleted my blog and email address that was used with my blog. The reason, well that's another story for another time perhaps.

Since that night I have tried to apologize to the people that I scared in real life and online. One of the persons online became furious with me because I made the post about hurting myself and has refused to talk to me. She won't return my emails or text messages. I hope she will see this post and realize how sorry I am for scaring her. My dad has removed all alcohol from the house, which isn't a problem for him since I have only seen him drink a beer once or twice in my life. He has also placed trigger locks on all the guns and locked them in a gun safe. When I was a baby dad and mom had to baby proof the house, now at age 16 dad has to idiot proof a house. I don't feel too good about that. I feel sort of foolish.

I made a promise to a friend Sunday night that I would never try to hurt myself again. I have made the same promise to my dad, grandma, and myself. In an effort to keep that promise I am going to try to be more open about my emotions in hope that it will keep me from reaching that breaking point.

While at school today I reported the guy who cornered me in the hallway. Although I don't think he will get in any trouble for what he said, but in the event that something like it happens in the future there will be a record of it.

I guess that's all I have to say right now.

Part 4 What Happened To Me

I am going to try and tell a little more about what happened to me. I'm not sure how far I will get, but my therapist keeps telling me that I should.

After he finished smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer he began to do things to himself while staring at me. In all honesty it took me a few seconds to realize that he was pleasuring himself. Although the many times he raped me during these 23 hours were horrible, him pleasuring himself while staring at me and one other thing that I won't get into yet gives me an over whelming sense of being objectified and degraded. I won't get into all the gross details of what he did to himself but I will say that some of them were very strange. I can only assume pain rather it be my pain or his own, turned him on. Near the end before he climaxed he stood up in front of me, no more than an arms length away and finished.

I don't know how to better describe the nasty, empty, and used feeling I had and still have when I felt his stuff land on me. It's a sensation I don't think I will ever be able to wash off my skin. I have tried so many times to get rid of the feeling that his stuff is still on me but nothing works. The whole time I was crying and I kept hearing someone's voice call out for their mom. Looking back at it now I think it was my voice that I was hearing. There were sounds that he was making, sounds that I wish I had never heard; breathing sounds and the sound of my name emanating from his mouth haunts me.

He used my torn clothes that lay on the floor to wipe himself off. He then repeated the words he told me about 10 minutes earlier, that he was going to make me feel more comfortable. He reached into the pocket of his pants that were on the floor and took a key out of it. I didn't know it was a key at first until he showed it to me. It was the key to the handcuffs that were holding my wrists over my head for the past hour. He stood behind me, teasing me with the key, asking me if I wanted him to free my hands. I really didn't know what to say. I wanted to say, "Yes, free my hands", but I was afraid that if I did he would then refuse to out of meanness. He began to touch me with his hand and while he was behind me I felt him become excited again.

He stepped back in front of me and grabbed tube of lotion or oil and covered himself down there with it and then walked back around to behind me. His hands grabbed me and he was so forceful and strong I wasn't able to fight. I tried so hard to keep him from entering back there but I couldn't stop him. It hurt so badly and I screamed as I was torn. This undoubtedly is one of the things he did that cause me to need surgery to fix a perforated bowl.

I remember vividly thinking to myself that this is really happening. I'm being raped, I'm being sodomized. I kept thinking about my dad, little sister, family, and friends being told by the police that a hiker found my lifeless body faced down in woods. I pictured my dad falling to the ground unable to understand what happened.

I felt that bastard breathe on the back of my neck and head. I can still feel the damp heat of his breath and the smell of cigarettes.

I wanted to be able to write more but I can't right now.

Changes In Me

I have noticed some changes in me, more specifically in my personality and perception of those around me. I think my family and close friends see a difference but they can hardly put their fingers on what those changes are. In many respects I am still the same person I always was. I still have this overwhelming urge to figure things out rather it be how things work, why people do this or that, and why I am the way I am. My therapist has told me that my curiosity is a good thing because it will help me in my healing process by compelling me to self-examine. I guess that makes sense. She has also told me to try not to over-examine myself. I'm not sure what she meant by that, but I'm guessing she's worried that my perceptions of my own inner demons will differ from that of a trained professional's perception.

Below are a few of the changes I have noticed:

Personality:

Some of the changes in my personality include me being less comfortable in front of people. This lack of comfort isn't only in front of strangers but also in front of my close friends and family. It seems like my comfort in front of close friends and family shouldn't have changed; after all my assault didn't change them, but it did change my perception of things. This discomfort causes me to keep to myself in my everyday life. I seldom leave the security of my home and when I do I am so hyper aware of everything around me that I'm unable to enjoy what I'm doing. For example the simple act of hanging out with friends makes me uncomfortable. I don't mean a little uncomfortable, but nauseatingly uncomfortable. I think the reason it makes me so uncomfortable is because I now view outside my home as dangerous and inside as safe and much of the conversational topics seem to be trivial. 

Even before this happened to me I have never considered myself to be an extraordinarily happy person, nor have I considered myself to be sad or depressed. I use to smile but to be honest with you I can't remember the last time I spontaneously smiled because I was happy. Don't get me wrong I have smiled since my assault but it was purposeful and for other's benefit instead of my own. I have described this attempt to give off an impression of a well mental health as wearing a mask or disguise. Essentially I think that's what I'm doing, putting on a show for others so they don't worry about me. It's uncomfortable, tiring, and even nauseating to keep it up for long periods of time. Just the 7 hours I spend in school drains the life out of me and often it discourages me because I feel like I haven't healed and never will.

Perception:

I have noticed that I look at things differently than I did before. I laugh on the inside at things people find important or devastating. Many of the same things are the same as I found important or troubling before my assault. I use to worry about how people I go to school with thought of me, but now I don't care. I use to worry about some very trivial and temporary things like my hair color, split ends, do my clothes match my shoes, and do my shoes match my purse. Now whenever I am trying to hang around my friends I have this urge to tell them to shut up and quit complaining about the zit you have on your forehead or that your parents won't buy you a dress. I get so angry over hearing people complain over stuff that doesn't matter. I have one friend who complains about her mother all the time, but sometimes I want to stop her in the middle of her rant and tell her at least she still has her mom. For once I want my friends to complain about something that matters. I know how stupid and selfish that sounds and believe me I wouldn't wish real problems on anyone, especially not my friends and family.

It just seems like so much has changed in my life and it will never go back to the way it was before when I was carefree. I think going through the assault I and so many others have, can cause us to grow up mentally and emotionally much sooner than usual.

Since I am sort of losing my train of thought and on the verge of rambling on for pages and pages, I'm going to finish this with one final statement.

The fact of an ever moving time disallows us to change what has already happened, however all actions in life rather it be pleasant or disheartening has an innate ability to teach us a lesson about the value of life. It's our responsibility to open our eyes and ears to the lessons that are often costly so that they don't set out to teach the deaf and blind.

10 Phone Calls

Very early Saturday afternoon I started making phone calls to let the 10 adoptive families know how sorry I was for me losing the baby that could potentially have become their baby. It was without a doubt the most difficult news I have ever had to tell someone. Everyone was very supportive to me and none of them gave the impression that they thought I was to blame. Still, there were moments of silence where I knew they felt a huge disappointment and I can't help but feel bad about it. I wasn't able to get in touch with all 10 of them because 2 of them didn't answer the phone and I wasn't going to leave a message on voice mail. Of course they already know about the miscarriage; dad called the adoption agency not long after we got home from the hospital Wednesday and the agency notified them being that they were the final ten.

The majority of the conversations were very clinical in nature where we expressed a sympathy toward one another but didn't invite further conversation. There was one conversation that became very personal and lasted nearly 30 minutes. This woman was very kind and she asked me how I was handling losing the baby. I explained in some detail to her what I was thinking in regards to the miscarriage. Then she asked a question that I wasn't expecting, "What does the babies father think about all of this"? I inadvertently blurted out, "I don't know if he knows and I really don't care".

As you can imagine, this sparked an entirely new conversation. There I was talking to this woman who was wanted to adopt my baby and telling her personal information about how this all came to be. She spent much of the time trying to console me while my brain kept spewing out details I'm sure she had zero desire to know about.

After I got off the phone with that woman, I couldn't help but feel bad for dumping my emotions on her. It was unfair for me to do so. I should have simply told her that the baby's father wasn't a part of my life, but instead I told her stuff that will likely add to her pain. I sort of feel selfish for using her as an emotional release.

I guess I will try and call the other two today.

I'm just trying to hold myself together and not fall apart.

I Really Feel Like I Can't Take Much More Crap In My Life

This morning while I was asleep in bed I kept being awakened by very mild stomach cramps. Later after the alarm clock let me know it was time to get up to get ready for school I noticed that I had been spotting. Although it slightly concerned me I had heard that it can often happen during pregnancy and more often than not, it's not big deal.

Later while at school those very mild stomach cramps kept getting worse, and the entire area down there felt damp. I asked my teacher if I could go to restroom and once in the restroom I noticed that the spotting had turned into bleeding. I knew what was going on, I knew what was happening.

I used my cell phone to call my dad. He was having trouble understanding what I was trying to say. I wasn't ready for this baby, I didn't what a baby under these circumstances, but somehow I was crying and shaking so much that I couldn't talk clearly. Dad still somehow managed to understand enough and told me to find a teacher, but I couldn't leave. Dad finally told me just to wait there and someone will come get me.

I could hear him talking to someone else on his office phone and then he told me that a teacher or someone else from the school was on their way to me. Dad also told me that he was on his way to my school. A few minutes passed and the school counselor asked, "Jaime, are you in here"?

By the time I somewhat composed myself and we walked to the office in the front of the school dad was running in through the front door. Although the school had already called an ambulance dad insisted that it would be quicker for him to drive me to the hospital. To make a long story short, I miscarried.

I simply can't understand why I am so sad over losing something that I didn't want in the first place. Maybe it's because I had built this whole pregnancy as being the positive result from a negative action that I can give the world and two deserving adoptive parents. I really don't know what to think right now, my mind is sort of in a sludge. I feel like I am stuck in a pit of quicksand and each time I reach for a the edge, it gets further away.

What was left of the life that was inside me was sucked out and discarded in a treatment called Vacuum Aspiration. I feel so horrible like I am to blame for this. After getting home I Googled Vacuum Aspiration because I am a curious person. I guess I probably shouldn't have looked it up so soon. It's also a method used for the purpose of abortion. Now I understand there's a vast separation between Vacuum Aspiration after a miscarriage vs. for the purpose of an abortion, but I am left with this very icky feeling.

No more than 5 days ago we had finally narrowed the list of adoptive parents down to 10 and we had already met with 3 of them. What am I going to tell them? How do I explain that I failed them? 

I really feel like I can't take much more crap in my life.