In which a new word is invented.....

I survived Christmas Eve (after, you know, various parental guilt trips, other minor family drama, cajoling, and of course, a tide-turning bribe).


The huge gift was money. It was nice, and took care of a lot of debt that was weighing us down, which will allow us to save for treatment/adoption/whatever much more quickly. Yay. We were also blessed to receive many other nice gifts from our families (including the juicer I’ve been wanting so that I can kick off my health nut streak). Our gifts to everyone were generally well received, as well (a nice bonus).


I won’t lie – there were several moments of “That was awkward,” and several moments, involving some combination of pregnant mother/big sister to be/expectant dad, of “I think my soul is tearing in two,” and a few unnoticed tears shed. All in all, though, I thought I handled the evening with grace.

We spent the next day at home, paying off debt (yay for online banking!), eating and enjoying each other’s company. Later that night we had some folks over to the house to hang out/drink whiskey. All in all, I thought I might have made it through the holiday unscathed without permanent damage. Hubby said he was proud of me. I was proud of me.

That is, until last night. Quick backstory: Hubby’s SIL is pregnant and in danger of losing the baby (my MIL’s exaggeration) getting put on bedrest. She is, I think, around 32-33 weeks. They have a not-quite-two year old and three dogs, and he is a new medical school graduate/slave doctor. Hubby’s mom has been going to stay with them (they live 2 hours away) during the week, and since my FIL travels for work, we get their own dog dumped on us.

Anyway, the MIL came over last night while I was at work to drop off the dog and subject Hubby to a lecture. Among other things, she told him – get this - that B (his SIL) and M (his brother), were upset on Christmas Eve because they felt like “no one was making a big deal about the new baby” because of me. (To his credit, he didn’t want to hurt my feelings by telling me this but it came out in unrelated conversation). Later, she called to tell him that B and M didn't necessarily actually say anything like that to her. She had simply inferred it. And felt the need to lecture us about it.

Nothing she says surprises me anymore, not really, but that was really hurtful and a pretty terrible thing to say. I mean, I never asked anyone to treat B and M differently because I just lost a pregnancy 2 months ago. I would never do that. In fact, I didn’t want to go to Christmas celebrations because I didn’t want anyone – myself, Hubby, M and B, or anyone else – to feel awkward because of my presence. They coerced us into going to serve their own purposes and then try to make me feel bad about it. I didn’t run screaming at the sight of the creepy pregnant belly. I didn’t break down crying when Hubby’s grandma gave me a present – wrapped and with my name clearly on the tag – that, when opened, turned out to be a maternity and nursing shirt, clearly meant for B instead (FML).

I know, my life sucks. It is depressing. It makes me sad to see myself contrasted with someone who can have babies, to see my pathetic “family” of two next to a growing family of nearly four, to think of how I would have fit into that maternity shirt if only the last pregnancy had been different. I’m sorry if it makes other people feel sad or awkward too.

That’s why I wanted to stay the fuck home.

There were other things said, but really I am just too livid and sad (can I say “sivid” instead? Did I just invent a word? Awesome!) sivid to begin the process of unraveling what it all means.

But let’s end this on a positive note, shall we? The hubs got me a GORGEOUS set of emerald earrings with a matching pendant. I am not really a sparkly kind of girl (I actually asked for a Dyson) but green is my favorite color, and these are truly beautiful. I am so thankful that he knows me well enough to know what I would like even though I didn’t even know I wanted them! I’ll try to get a picture of them up later…..

I hope you all had a very blessed holiday, a Merry Christmas, or simply a good weekend.

motoring

Things are just trucking along in my life. We’re still assuming that the “really huge” Christmas gift is cash (although I’m hoping that I’m not going to be whoring myself out for, say, another hideous china set) and while there are things that bother me about the whole situation I’ve got the lube all ready to go. I will suck it up and deal with it, because if it is money, well I’m going to go out and buy myself a whole diaper load of happiness, conflicted ideology or no.


I feel steady, solid, like my two feet are planted firmly just where they need to be. Aunt Flow and Thanksgiving came and went, without so much as a tear from me, which felt weird and good and sort of like I was living someone else’s life. I’ve been taking my fucking pills as prescribed like a good little mental patient and (family gatherings aside) drinking less.


Sometimes it surprises me, how functional I’ve become. I’ve been paying bills. Working out. Cleaning the house. Working on crafts (don’t laugh!). Cooking. Most importantly though, I seem to have found perspective. No, I don’t want to be around creepy pregnant bellies that stare me down. They make me feel sad and less-than, and I will tell people why I don’t want to do seven Christmases even if it makes them uncomfortable to hear that I should be wrapping gifts for my own kids by now, baking cookies for Santa and playing all the crazy parental mind games that Christmas inspires. My oldest would be four. I can’t even imagine what that life would have been like, who that me would have been.


But I do know that, even if it shreds me to do it, I can survive one night pretending to be happy for the perfect little soon-to-be-added-to family. I can go home afterwards and cry my eyes out with a nice fat check to dry my tears, and even if the whole experience knocks me down, I know that I’ll catch my breath and get back up and keep living.

Cash Rules Everything Around Me

'tis the season.....




..... to self medicate!

Thank you all for your support on my last post. Your comments really made it easier to deal with the crappiness (and gave me something to chuckle at while discreetly checking my email under the table!). It warms the cockles of my little heart to know that you all see the manipulation at play.

I survived our two Thanksgivings, better than I thought I would, but man. Those little arrows of hurt were flying through the air everywhere! I had a sizeable alcohol shield  (my patronus is patron) but there were a few times I thought I might cry anyway. Have you ever noticed that a giant pregnant belly can be like the eyes in one of those creepy pictures, eyes that seem to follow you around the room? Yep, that's how Thanksgiving was. Everywhere I looked, that thing was staring me in the face, teasing and taunting me. Lest I end up kicking the belly to shut up the taunts (and in prison with the headlines screaming "Crazy barren infertile kicks pregnant belly 'to shut it up.'") , I spent both gatherings stealthily avoiding my SIL

And of course, Christmas is becoming an issue again already. And I am a whore.

(I guess that last line deserves a bit of explanation, no?)

Recap: we weren't going to Christmas. We stood our ground despite all of the guilt trips and everything else, and got hoodwinked into Thanksgiving. Now, my FIL is joining in the manipulation. He has told hubby that this Christmas will be different, and that we will be getting a very large gift, as will his brother, and he wants all of us there to open he gifts at the same time. 

It MUST be money, and probably a sizeable amount. BIL (the favorite child, the doctor who married a wife who gets pregnant and actually has grandbabies, not some clotty blobs destined for the toilet, and beyond, a waste treatment facility) recently graduated from medical school, is not making very much at the moment and has a wife who isn't working because she has a baby and another one on the way. I've been told about their money issues several times, in my MIL's weird attempts to get me to appreciate my own life. Of course, that only pisses me off more - they know we're certainly not wealthy, especially since we asked for a loan to pursue adoption and they turned us down. We need money too - not to support our family (we'll be fine there) but to create our family.

Anyway, I suspect that now that BIL is having money problems the parents want to help him out but don't want to seem unfair to us. Uggh. It anoys the piss out of me. They wouldn't help us when we asked for a LOAN, and because BIL is in trouble they're just going to give it away.

And I am a dirty, dirty whore, because if it is money I want it at all costs, even if that means enduring another holiday with the pregnant belly staring at me and the rude comments other people make and the pregnancy and childbirth stories....... I'll deal with all of it because right now, our biggest stumbling block to further pursuing parenthood is money.

Therefore, I am a whore  :)