This is a post that I wrote after getting home from Vegas, but I hadn't finished it yet and thought I'd share anyway...
I always say if you're not around for your birthday, it doesn't count. So by that strategy, I'm technically 25--three tips to Canada, one to France and one to Vegas.
I just still have so much swirling around in my head and some of that is guilt--I wanted to have a baby before I was 30 so badly. And I did, but not exactly the way I would have liked for it to turn out.
I wanted to have one more vacation with DH before we had a baby at home, but he was concerned about vacation days and finances--and now I can.
I wanted to be like everyone else in my family and have a little girl, and they "think" that I did--but they were never 100% sure because with no renal system, there's no urethra to push through and make the sex organs more prominent. So I most likely got my little girl, but she's dead. And if it was a boy, that's a whole 'nother ball of issues since I had any sort of preference to begin with.
I guess in the future I should be a lot more careful and specific about what I wish for, shouldn't I?
I know, I know. It sounds nuts. But those thoughts are up there. I have to let them out to be able to recognize how unreasonable they are. But when they're up there together--that little list of all of the things that I asked for--they make you feel like a shallow piece of shit.
I know that deep down all I wanted was a healthy baby. I know that I would have loved any child at any time. But it's just all too weird that I actually did get the things that I asked for--just with a fucked up ending.
Oh, my God. Oh, me too, me too, me too.
ReplyDeleteI remember, when pregnant with Gabriel, that I was praying for the most specific things I could. It started out, please let us get pregnant. And became:
-Please let us get pregnant with a sticky baby.
-Please let us get pregnant with a sticky baby that grows.
-Please let us get pregnant with a sticky baby that grows healthy and strong.
-Please let us get pregnant with a sticky baby that grows healthy and strong and is delivered healthy.
-Please let us get pregnant with a sticky baby that grows healthy and strong and is delivered healthy, that we hold in our arms and raise in love.
I repeated that so many times, like it was some sort of contract I was making, and I was determined to find all the loopholes and close them off. And you know? He did grow healthy and strong and was delivered healthy and held in our arms and raised in love.
I don't know how much more specific we could have gotten.
I do know that I find myself feeling superstitious now about how I phrase things and what I say and have to shake myself out of it. But oh, me too.