I hate September

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—– Okay, are you ready to see into my current state of mind?——-

I know it’s been rather dull around this corner lately, but I can’t help it.

I would usually say, hey – bring on Friday, but this weekend I have nothing to look forward but for the fact that my family will be celebrating what would have been my daughters fifth birthday.

Every year, this time particularly, I wonder at the laws of the universe and life. I ponder on the reasoning whoever’s god had when he kept me here instead of my little baby girl. I wonder why she had to die after the roller coaster ride of her short lifetime battle of illness. Other premature babies survived, normal babies got over pneumonia. Why was I lead to believe that she had overcome the worst and right before being declared healthy she suddenly developed pneumonia and died?
Just after I’d finally taken her home from hospital?
Just after I’d accepted that my fate on earth was to be a mother to Kiera?
Just after I was okay with not going out with my other 18 year old friends because I had to feed my child and make sure her oxygen levels were monitored correctly, or that her SATs were normal and that her heart was beating or her apnea mat wasn’t beeping because she’d forgotten to breathe again, why?

I know that it’s easy to say “it was her time” but when I think about it, who makes the decisions on these things? And, for that matter, who the fuck makes up shit cliché sayings like “it was her time” anyway? I want to get hold of that person and attack their loose tongue and thoughtless empty words.

It’s been too long now for me to say that I miss Kiera – I’ve grown used to not having her around. What I can’t get used to is the maternal person I still have inside me, five years down the line. And I can’t get used to the empty memories of motherhood that attack me every so often. I can’t ignore the fact that for so long after she died my body still responded to her feeding schedule or that the pills I was given to stop the lactation didn’t work.

I can’t forgive the mother in me who still reaches out to every child that crosses my path and asks my brain “what if this was your child, your responsibility, your life’s path, what would you do differently? What kind of parent would you be? Don’t you wish you were back there again?” Yes, bitch, I do. I want it more than anything in the world to be a mother again. To Kiera, to any child. It is the only thing I was ever really good at. I hate this mother inside of me. She pops up out of nowhere and reminds me that I’m not an average 24 year old.

This unwelcome, horrible bitch of a mother forces me to be grounded and responsible when all I really want to do is go wild, forget where I’ve been and what I’ve done. I want to ignore the promise to my daughter of being a better person and I want to remember what the meaning of irresponsibility means.

I want to be 18 again and start my adult life all over. I want to forget that mother in me. I want to be able to ignore the pain inside my heart every time I think about how I should have a five year old running around screaming for toys and refusing to bath. I want to forget the month September ever existed in my life.

The pain really isn’t worth all these images that overtake me in September. I want to forget. Please, let me forget September.


  1. Justin Hartman says:

    I can’t even begin to imagine what you must have gone through. As a father of 2 I can’t imagine my life without my kids. September is also a shit month for me. This month marks the 5th year of the death of my best and closest friend.

    I still wish he were here and even though it is five years later I still have a massive part of me missing. To this I think we can relate to each other.

  2. Dimitrio says:

    16 september 2 years ago my best friend died – wake me up when september ends. i agree with u on the cliches!

  3. Amy says:

    There is no limit on the amount of time you are allowed to miss someone, my love. You can, and you will, miss her forever. You may not miss the company, as you describe it, but you do ” miss out ” …. on laughs, hugs, tears, growing up, all those special events.

    Miss her when you need to, and do her proud the rest of the time.
    Much love and hugs for you this month and always Sheens.

  4. jaun says:

    Hi babe.sorry ive bn so quiet.im thinking of you,as i do every year this time.im always gonna be here. Love you Missh Mhoneypenny.

  5. angel says:

    my sweet darling shebeeliciousness… i wish i had the words to tell you how i feel for you. i could not imagine what you’re going through, and if i lost my knucklehead i think i would just curl up and fade away.
    i think you’re amazing for surviving what you have.
    i think you have every right to feel what you do, you’re a mommy to an angel and you always will be.
    my heart aches for you, and i wish i could take some of the pain away…

  6. Stef says:

    words are so fucking empty…
    i love the way you are so real sheebs.
    you may hate me for these words but don’t hate September, embrace that part of you that is Kiera… without her you would not be the spectacular person you are today, one hot cool chick 🙂

    light a candle for her this weekend and remember her… I will too.

    it’s just not fair i know…

    *sending you some awesome pretty pink rainbows*
    (hugs) babe

  7. Mike says:

    I wish I had something deep and meaningful to say but I would probably end up repeating what someone else has already said. But I’ll just say that you are quite possibly the strongest person I have never met and how you carry on with yourself is truly inspiring.

    I tip my hat and raise my glass to you and your little one.

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