So, yesterday I sent an e-mail to my friends at work talking about our plans for Thursday night (to see a chick flick and go to dinner) and one of the replies said, "Can I just say that I am SO glad to see our old Christy back!?"
This sent me reeling. What does this mean? I re-read the e-mail a bunch of times. How am I back? What did I do or say? Can the old Christy really ever come back? Why does this bother me?
It sends me back to what I've known now for a while-nothing can please me. You can't win with me.
Saying this gets me all up in a tizzy. But what do I want her to say? "You have turned into this depressed scrooge and I like it that way."?
What do I want? This is the question that was rolling around in my head all day, and all night last when I couldn't sleep. I actually stayed home from work today, just for a mental health day and to catch up on sleep. I don't really have enough sick days to do this because I used them all on my "fake" maternity leave last year. But everything has been so overwhelming and with the French students coming next Wednesday, I just felt like I needed a day. Well, you guys understand, so anyway. What do I want?
I want the things that everyone else gets. I want to carry this baby to term and when it gets close I want to do all sorts of crazy wives tales to help convince her to come out. I want to pack my hospital bag with fun stuff and not plan what I'll do this time if she dies. I want to lie awake with my husband counting contractions trying to figure out when to go to the hospital. I want our moms to sit in the waiting room with smiles on their face instead of tears.
I want a baby shower. I want to roll around in beautiful, tiny little pink girl things. I want to sit in her beautiful room, made just for her, and putz around with baby things. Hang tiny little outfits on cute little hangers. Arrange her room so it is just. so.
I want to have a child. I want to take her with me everywhere I go. I want to get to know her and figure out her moods and I want her to need me like I need my mom. I want to help her grow up. Take her places. Help her see the world and figure things out. Help her with her homework and remind her that most boys are not worth it. Hold her hand while she cries, laugh with her, and yell with her.
I want to buy her a cute, frilly swimsuit and flipflops and take her swimming.
I want to read her my favorite books.
I want. I want. I want. I want.
So much. Really I know that that first part doesn't matter-it's the healthy baby part that is going to get me what I REALLY want. What bugs me is how hard it is for us to get it and how easy (it seems anyway) for others.
I'm so tired of wanting. I'm so tired of being patient. I'm so tired of just being this. Dead Baby(ies) Mom.
And I am not the old Christy. I'm little bits of her, and little bits of this new me, all rolled into one.
I think this all probably makes me sound whiny and selfish, so I will stop. Sigh.
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