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Let's Panic: The Book!

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How to Endure and Possibly Triumph Over the Adorable Tyrant
who Will Ruin Your Body, Destroy Your Life, Liquefy Your Brain,
and Finally Turn You
into a Worthwhile
Human Being.

Written by Alice Bradley and Eden Kennedy

Some Books
I'm In...

Sleep Is
For The Weak

Chicago Review Press

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Let's Panic

The site that inspired the book!

At LET'S PANIC ABOUT BABIES, Eden Kennedy and I share our hard-won wisdom and tell you exactly what to think and feel and do, whether you're about to have a baby or already did and don't know what to do with it. → 

« Want to hear something funny? | Main | Here's the thing. »

Nor breath nor motion

Why, hello. And welcome! Welcome to my doldrums. I apologize for not fixing up the place, but there's been so much to do: sitting around, staring into space, muttering at the dog, attempting to nap. Making a sandwich and then halfway through forgetting about the sandwich and wondering why I'm standing there with a butter knife. Like that! So much.

Would you like some tea? I think I have some, somewhere over here. Of course making tea means heating up water and finding the tea bags and. What? Was I saying something?

Why are you jumping on the couch? No, no, that's not a ferret scurrying out from under the couch to attack you. That's a dust bunny composed of the intermingling of Charlie and Izzy's fur. Sorry about that. I would have vacuumed but the vacuum cleaner is so heavy, and who can figure out how to plug stuff in? It's like you need a science degree for that. With the larger prong and then the other one. Why not just one prong? I ask myself that more than you would imagine.

And yes, I was wearing these sweatpants the last time I saw you, thanks for asking. Stained, are they? Huh. None of my pants fit me, if you must know. This is frustrating. But then, at least I don't have a stupid ass face like you do.

Whoa! Where did that come from? I'm sorry. Your face is not even a little assy. Pants are a sensitive topic for me. As are shirts. Also, life. Can you just sit over there and avert your eyes?

I know the phone is ringing. It does that. It will stop, don't worry.

Also, just so you know, if you ask me how I'm feeling I may start screaming and not stop until you leave. I'm just getting a little weary of that question, is all. I feel like having a sandwich, is how I feel. If only I could work through how that's done, again.

Time for you to go? Lucky! I'm glad at least one of us can enter and depart as we please. If it's anyone, it should be you, and I mean that. Sorry about the, you know, dust bunnies, and the insults. Next time you come, we'll find some cups, and then we'll drink some water, maybe with ice cubes! Now if you don't mind, I'm kind of wiped out. You can open the door yourself, right? I thought so. Next time you're here, you'll have to show me how that's done.

Reader Comments (146)

I'm so sorry Alice. I has a miscarriage a few weeks ago as well and am struggling to keep my head about water. Also apparently my insurance company decided to share my "happy news" with several corporations and suddenly I find myself deluged with Babies R Us and Pampers coupons. Last night I got a Lamaze magazine in the mail and totally lost it.

Anyway, just wanted to vent and let you know you are not alone.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterLacey
Poor Alice! Be nice to yourself. In the midst of your pain you are still adorable and funny. Even when you are pissy you are cute.

The dust bunnies are also taking over my house. One just hauled the puppy under the sofa and is making a snack of him as we speak.

Take care. If California wasn't so far away, I'd totally come over and slaughter your dust bunnies, make you a sandwich and a nice cuppa tea.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterRobin

I'm so sorry, Alice. I know those sweatpants so well.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterNewt
Dear Alice – It’s not possible for any of us to make this experience less painful for you, Scott, Henry and other members of your family, but please know that there are many, many people across the ‘net who would, if only they could. Take good care.

May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterSusan
There's nothing wrong with the way you're feeling. It's your grief, to be worked through on your own timeline. Don't let anyone tell you different. Or better yet, tell us and we'll all come over and handle it for you. Many hugs and deepest sympathy for your loss. As long as you keep putting one foot in front of the other, you'll make it through.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterAmyL
I just today caught up with what has happened, and had to say I'm sorry. I had an OB appt just a few days after yours, at nearly the exact same point in my pregnancy. No heartbeat, horrifying ultrasound. It is so hard for other people to say the right thing and even I don't know the best thing to say. Many times over the last week I have heard, "The exact same thing happened to so-and-so's wife," or "I had one too," and so I know there is very little consolation in that. But when I read about your experience today, so similar to mine, I don't know. I just wanted to reach out and...touch a hand, internet-ly. Take care of yourself.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterAbbyNormal
Yea, I remember those sweatpants, too. God, I hated having to go to work and pretend nothing happened. (No one knew yet). But my boss was a single guy, I'm not exactly about to tell him what happened so I could skip meetings and sit around the house staring into space. Looking back, it probably helped going to work, giving me something to do, but it sucked so hard. (I guess the choice between sucky work and sucky talking about it with my boss, sucky boss was worse. :P)

May 20, 2008 | Unregistered Commentersilvermine
I felt EXACTLY like this after my two miscarriages, and could never articulate it to anyone. I'd like to turn back the clock and send this post to every person who expected normal behavior from me back then.

I hope you're being well taken care of right now. And I wish people would treat miscarriage like all other deaths, and bring over a friggin' casserole, for pete's sake.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterLiz M
I just found you today. I was looking up ways to help my 3 year old son eat, and read your hillarious entry with Henry and the cinnamon and the chart from a few years back... I've added you to my fav's and will visit every day. My heart goes out to you in this terrible sorrowful time. I wish I could say the perfect thing that would take some pain away, but I know there's no such thing. Time will heal, but there will always be a scar. Just remember that your family and friends love you.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterJennifer
I don't mind being told by you that I have a stupid ass face, or anything else right now.

Wishing you minimal chaos in other parts of your life at the moment, while you mourn.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterJD
Mm. I know. I'm sorry.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterBeth
I can't say I know how you feel because I've never been in this situation. I can say I am so very sorry and I wish there was something I could do. You touch a lot of people on a daily basis and we are all thinking of you.

As for the dust bunny? Name him George.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterDM
These were the most lyrical words I have read in a long time. And I read a lot of Vonnegut.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterLisa
I have no unique words to say that haven't been said already.So..

(((( Alice ))))

For the record, I forget how to do things all the time too, and I have no excuse. I'm just kind of like that! So you're in good company!
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterFrankie
So many paths that wind and windWhen just the art of being kindIs all this sad world needs.-Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I'll pray that just the right kind of kindness comes your way. At just the right times, in just the right doses.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered Commenterhi kooky
Sandwiches are overrated. Sweatpants rock, particularly ones with stains and stink. BREATHING can be a difficult task.

Hugs to you.

A reader with an assy mug and a lot of understanding.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterPetunia Face
oh...i have nothing. Feel better soon, Alice.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered Commenterjessica
Talking is just so exhausting, so don't worry if I don't speak. But you feel free to go right ahead...oh.....what did you ask? Am I LISTENING? HELL NO! That takes energy too.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered Commenterdana wyzard
I wish for you peace, Alice. And a deli that delivers.

Love to you from this coast...
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered Commenterdaysgoby
Just to let you know... it's okay to hate women with infants. It's even okay to hate the babies. It passes, with time. Many hugs, unless you're not in the mood.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered Commenteraprilangel
Dear Alice - I am sending wishes for peace your way.I am so sorry - please take care of yourself and know that you will heal.God Bless.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered Commentersusan
I know you're in a shitty place right now but I loved this post. It has a universality to which all depressed people can relate.

Why not just one prong? Indeed.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterS-Way
Talking is just so exhausting, so don't worry if I don't speak. But you feel free to go right ahead...oh.....what did you ask? Am I LISTENING? HELL NO! That takes energy too.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered Commenterdana wyzard
Oh, sweetie. I am so sorry.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterMomVee
I'll show myself out. But here, before I go, a box of chocolates and some tequila. For you. I can't think of anything else that might help.

Hang in there.
May 20, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterSheila

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