One word to describe my life: uncontrollable. The problem with that is that I have spent years of my life tricking myself into thinking that I had total control over things. It was essential. I needed that feeling of control for my "safety". What now? Now that I face yet another month, another week, another day, another hour, another minute, another second, waiting. My heart aches. It's the unknown that gets me. If I just had something to grasp, to keep me a float while I await this due date that never comes. A due date. Life is measured in time. With a due date you know if you're early, or late, or perfectly on time. Without one there is no measure of your progress. No measure of how far you've come, and how much further you've to go.
I feel like have this secret life, my own personal hell....this is where I live:
I NEVER let more than 10 minutes pass without looking at my phone to make sure that I didn't miss a 716 call.
I JUMP with hopeless expectation EVERY time my phone rings. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
I can't walk through my own house without feeling like an inmate at San
Quentin. The baby gear that sits unused glaring at me, taunting me reminds me that I am trapped, with my release in the hands of others.
I feel guilty many days because I should be happy with what God has given me. With that little angelic presence who said to me today, quite randomly: "If you weren't my Mommy, I would be so sad I wouldn't ever come out of my room."
I refuse to get our family pictures done because they will feel too empty.
I feel guilty because some days I think I spend more time thinking about the child that is to come, than the ones that are already here.
and then there was this one other thing. this one connection that felt so right. maybe it was going to lead to our child. maybe it wasn't. either way, i was okay with that. it was more about the force, the momentum with which innocent exchanges
just made sense. where something
beyond my control tells me to stick with it. the reason is not yet clear- it quite possibly has nothing to do with bringing our baby home.
it doesn't matter. what matters is that something tells me this is important. this is significant. so i'm going to pay attention.
My baby is sick! It was such a long night. She started throwing up last night and continued through most of the night. This morning she brought some of her stuffed animals into the living room and fell asleep on the floor for several hours. Did I mention that this is a child that never sleeps outside of her own bed?
