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It took this long before I could talk about this. Don’t believe me, look it up:October 25, 2012. 6:30pm. I was at Lancaster Boulevard, checking in with a potential agent for pinup modeling with my grandmother. After everything had proven to be nonadvantagous to me, we get in our car and leave. 7:15 pm.We are leaving the Dairy on 17th and K in Lancaster, about to turn onto 20th Street East where my life changed. Approximately 7:20 pm…In the left turn lane on 20th Street East, waiting to turn onto K-4 behind a single car, a white SUV. My grandmother talks to me about I don’t even remember what and I am instantly distracted when the car in front of us turns left. There was an explosion, sparks and a body. I watched the man fly about 20 feet and finally hit the sidewalk, face down, and roll over. What had happened was a motorcyclist was headed our way at high speeds and the distracted woman in front of us turned too soon and hit him. Right in the middle. His bike flew and hit a nearby busstop sign. His body fell right after it. Legless. I was the first person to him, After screaming and gasping at my grandmother to “Stop! There’s a man, there’s a man!!”. The car hadn’t come to a stop yet and I was already by his side asking him his name. He never spoke. I got 911 on the line and handled everything and soon people joined us on the street. I held my own and stayed strong on the phone with 911 and followed instructions to the letter. By the time I got off the phone I was sick and hyperventilating. His leg was missing and there were blood pockets forming in his chest. His breathing was slowing and he was beginning to leave us. I turned from the mangled body and vomited into the nearby bushes. My legs were shaking and I remember crying and hearing my grandmother saying “Ronni, come on we have to get out of here, Ronni Let’s GO!” and pulling my arm.. but I couldn’t walk. After another half hour, and after giving my statement to the sheriff I was able to go home, not 2 minutes away. When I got there, I immediately went to the bathroom where I stayed until my mother came to see me. I cried for days and had nightmares for weeks and it was hard for me to get in the car with anyone for a while. And I had owned a moped before that accident. I got rid of it a week later. His name was Tyson Tisdale. Husband to Melissa Tisdale, and father of 3. Look it up, I was there. So if everyone could just please calm down when you are driving, don’t text and drive, don’t drink and drive, if you cant’t handle it- don’t even eat and drive! Remember, Tyson died… but that woman who killed him-who watched his body tear at her car-has to wake up every morning.

I need out of this freaking house. I need a night of fun, and spontaneity… I want impulsive recklessness and I want to get into trouble (not too much trouble, of course). I am so sick of being stuck in this bedroom with nothing to do! I have a job that pays crappy and I go twice a week. Then I train for my summer job. What else can a girl my age do? I’m 18, no school, on a Thursday night with nothing to do and nowhere to go. I feel so trapped. And I miss how I used to be when I was a teenager. A REAL teenager, not like, about-to-pay-taxes-adult kind of teenager. I need a life again. Somebody help me.

For more, one need only text or call. Or write me on facebook. Thanks.

Everything.

I was pregnant. Pregnant with joy, with pure happiness and pregnant with a child. I was regnant with Jade Dean Sanders’ child, and should it have been a boy, we were to name him Clark after Superman. 9 weeks pregnant, I go to the ob/gyn for my ultrasound, expecting to see a heartbeat and a baby that I could call my own. Instead, an empty sack. No heartbeat, no baby I could call my own. No freakin anything…

Nothing.

The doctor says that my uterus only measured at 7 weeks, andthe pregnancy hasn’t developed and so there is no embryo to show for my pregnancy. I leave the office in tears, my heart and soul broken. It was December 28th. So that night goes by, tears and interrupted sleep.

Then comes the next morning, and I get a text from my Aunt Amy. She is concerned, asking me how the pregnancy is going. I tell her what’s going on and she gives me a little spring of hope. February 4th 2012, my Aun gave birth to twins. She told me that when she was 9 weeks, her doctor told her that she was only measuring 7 weeks pregnant and there was no baby. They were going to do an emergency D&C on her and she refused. Thank God, because at 11 weeks not only did they see an embryo, but two! So that was my hope, maybe there were just twins in there. So I get my HcG Levels taken that friday, and again on monday. I offically lost all hope that monday. My HcG Levels had dropped by 600+ units… I knew my pregnancy wasn’t going anywhere.

Nothing.

… So a few days later, I am cramping. I go and sit on the toilet, expecting the worst and a blood clot drops silently into the toilet. (TMI for the next few paragraphs, squeemish turn back now). I thought that was it, I thought the sack has been released and I can go back to being a miserable teenager again. But I was wrong.

Wednesday, January 9 2013…

It’s 4:15 in the morning and I am cramping so bad, I can’t see straight. I can barely walk, I can barely breathe. I start drawing water for a bath and sit naked on the toilet, for fear of falling over with pain. When the tub is filled with hot water and Dora bubbles, I step in and relax for about 15 minutes. Then the pain comes back. And this pain is something I have never felt in 18 years. Compared to brain surgery recovery pains, this was getting stabbed repeatedly in the uterus with a dull machete. So I clench my eyes and fists tight and let out a small yelp… and open them.

the bath had gone from clear water and bubbles-to a horror flick bathtub of blood.