I received the following post on my blog this morning when I got up. It has bad language in it so I'm sorry in advance:
Why don't you quit your bitchin over how sad you are your kid is dead and admit whatever you did wrong that killed it. Between that and your I'm fat posts it makes me want to stab myself in the eye.
My dearest Anonymous,
First, please feel free to repeatedly stab yourself in the eye over and over...and when you are done with that, proceed to any other part on your body that you would like. I can think of a few if you need help.
Secondly, my child was not an "it". He was a beautiful little boy named Kiernan Patrick.
Thirdly, I don't know who the hell you think you are, obviously not much of anyone since you can't man up and sign your post by your name. Coward. You obviously don't know me if you think for a split second of a second that I could or would harm my child. Don't you think that between the tests that Huntsville Hospital ran, the Mayo Clinic, or even the autopsy would have found something? Cause God knows I would LOVE a freakin' answer. I have so much to say to you, but I'm gonna keep it classy. Lord knows all I see right now is red and don't really trust the words coming out through my fingers. Trust me, I run things over and over in my head every single day. Probably while you are sleeping, because I can't. But, my questions run something like...Did that fingernail polish have something in it when I painted my toes? What about when I touched up my hair color? Did I eat enough veggies? Did I get enough sleep? Too much? I invite you to come spend five minutes with me. Just you and me. Maybe we can settle the difference then. It probably wouldn't take five minutes, but I'm sure I can think of something to fill up the time. Then, I'll give you over to my husband, who was expecting a healthy little boy...then to my sister and my mom. Then, I invite the other women that I have bonded with over this horrific experience to come and have a turn. There is a special place in hell for people like you.
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