There was a little girl, many years ago, who lived in a home that never felt like a home, and had a family that wasn't like anyone else's. She escaped however she could - into books, into school work, to grandma's house - just to get through the days until she was big enough to get out.
This little girl loved babies and children and always spent time with any babies she could. She dreamed of running away and growing up and meeting her knight in shining armor, and being so deeply in love, and one day having babies and babies of her own, with her knight.
And she did grow up and run away and meet her knight, and he was everything she had ever dreamed of. And he loved babies too, and they planned to have lots and lots of them. But she felt uneasy, this girl, like the road to baby might be paved in heartbreak. And so, the knight and the girl decided that they would indeed try to have a baby, even though at that time they had very little money and lots and lots of debt.
The not-so-little-anymore girl dreamed of telling her knight that his baby was growing inside of her, and of growing a huge baby-filled belly, and of feeling their baby move and play inside that huge belly. She dreamed of nesting, and decorating a sweet-ass nursery, and getting her house ready for baby. She even dreamed of labor, and delivery, and had visions of a home water birth and nursing (no drugs for her!).
One morning, she got to tell the knight that his baby - their baby! - was growing inside of her belly. She had never been so happy, or more in love with her knight, who was also very, very happy.
But then, their baby, who was very much wanted and loved, died long before he was big enough to live. And so did the next baby, and the baby after that, and the baby after that, and even the next one and the one after that. And the girl and her knight were very, very sad for a long time.
One day they decided that their baby just wasn't meant to grow in her belly, and even though she was very sad, the girl knew that she wouldn't get to live her dreams. She let them go, and embraced a new dream, a dream of a baby that grew in someone else's belly.
But she couldn't let go of one little part of that dream - the nursery. She hung onto the vision of going into a shop and finding the perfect baby furniture and the perfect baby decor, sparing no expense.
Okay, if you haven't guessed by now, the girl is me. And the knight? Well, that would be Hubby. And we had a huge fucking stupid fight about the damned nursery this weekend. Basically, he thinks we should run the cheap route (since adoption is so costly) and take whatever hand me downs we can. Me? I can't let go of that last dream. I've let go of all the rest of the baby anticipation dreams. But this one thing, I want to experience like a so-called "normal" mom. I mean, we're going into debt to fund this adoption anyway, so what's a few extra c notes in the hole?
So, if you're still reading, please chime in with a comment. Am I a complete whiny idiot for insisting on furnishing the nursery with things of my own choosing? I promise I can take it if you think so....
ETA: The only furniture in our entire house that is NOT a hand me down (or a family antique, true) is our bedroom set. Said bedroom set came from Ikea, and was purchased 4 or so years ago (and parts of it are falling apart now). So it's not exactly as if I have designer/expensive taste in these things. I just want some control, I guess.