I said I didn’t want you anymore, that I didn’t like you.  I feel regret for not feeling the excitement.  The isolation is less desirable and sometimes I think that others are in disbelief.   This is something that we just deal with, just part of the experience.  I feel worthless and helpless and hostage to my own body. Is this why it is hard to be happy?  I’m a victim to my own symptoms?   I know that when I awake it will start all over again.  I’m a prisoner to what’s growing and feeding the life we created.  I am strong, but not this strong.  My throat is burnt, my muscles are sore.  Every heave makes the pain more unbearable and no matter how much I beg it to stop,  it wont.  I am afraid.  I feel broken.  My mind is broken.


I’m Ava.  I’m a thirty something momma with a 3 year old and currently 9 weeks pregnant with my second.  I won’t write anything profound or brilliant here.  I will probably use incorrect spelling and punctuation.  This is just a means to record my journey and somehow organize my thoughts.  I am just ordinary.