Graveyard of my Dreams

Last night I worked on getting all the baby things moved out of the extra bedroom. I cried as I tucked the tiny baby clothes back into the storage bins under my bed, packed the cloth diapers into shopping bags and lugged them into the basement to join all the other baby paraphernalia. The children’s books I stacked in a box, the bedding I folded into bags, the crib mattress I covered in a large trash bag and moved to the basement. The crib remains intact but devoid of any drapery or bedding, it’s bare skeleton bringing tears to my eyes as I imagine disassembling it and lugging piece by piece to the dark depths of the basement, putting it to rest like my dreams of motherhood. I’m over-dramatic, I know. But, as I began the task of de-babying the room, I felt the loss of the Christmas miracle baby so poignantly. I remembered that feeling of sheer joy when I thought he would be mine and I felt the crushing blow of losing him to his aunt. I thought of the last baby to have slept in that bed and how much I loved him and miss him and how nearly every time I see my parents our conversation turns to him and how we all miss him (I miss his sister too and I think of her a lot, but in the end as she spent so much more time with her relative, we didn’t have the same relationship as I did with the little guy). I thought of the first baby I had, the first one to capture my heart and then the unimaginable heartache that occurred. And I cried for me too, for the pain this journey has brought me, for the losses I have endured, and for the last fleeting remnants of hope lying tattered deep in my soul. I expressed it this way to Montana – imagine the worst thing that ever happened to you and then imagine it happening over and over and over again for 5 long years. By the end of the night I felt drained, emotionally void and running on autopilot. I don’t regret my decision but I do lament the twist this development has taken and what it means to my goal. I know I made the right decision but sometimes making the right decision is painful. As always, my dream dances just out of my grasp, teasing me with how close it is and yet how far away, intangible and unattainable.

 

This morning I left my house early so I could stop by the school to get the paperwork to get the kid enrolled in school in my district, since that’s different from where he is now. I spoke with the helpful secretary about an after school program and busing to and from school and felt like I had everything worked out. I called the case worker and left her a message telling her what I was able to accomplish and what I would need from her to complete the process. She called me back to tell me the county worked out a deal with his current school to allow him to continue with them but live with me in a different district and they would even provide transportation to and from my house. Dang! This is one lucky kid because not only does he get to move in with me, as he wanted, but he can stay in his same school, as he was hoping. I’m happy for him, the school he is in now is much better than where I would be sending him. The only glitch is finding a place for him to stay for an hour after school before I get home. The case worker is going to try to find another foster home to keep him for that time or we can try to work something else out (not sure what). Tonight, after my beekeeper’s class, I plan to strip his bed and put on new, clean sheets. Unfortunately, all the sheets I have are girly, pink and purple with flowers and whatnot. I made sure to empty the dresser in his room, so he can store his clothes there. I will need him to help me move the drawers that are one side of the crib because they are bulky and the only way to get them in the basement is to take them outside, down the back steps and down the basement steps. The inside basement steps have a curve to them that the drawers won’t fit around. I guess we will do that this weekend. And then the transformation will be complete. The room will contain no items for a baby at all. My hope is that soon I will be lugging all these things back upstairs for my baby, but I guess I will have to wait and see. For now, my basement is the graveyard of my baby dreams…….    

Holding

He hugged me when I told him and nearly cried, which made me teary eyed. I didn’t want to tell him (because I wasn’t sure if I should or not) but when we got home Friday night I couldn’t keep it in. He was getting himself worked up about the new home where he was going and worried that his new foster family would be “wratched” his made up word for all things awful. So, I told him he was coming to stay with me because the county hadn’t found him another foster home and the only option left was a shelter or group home. I told him I couldn’t let him go to a shelter when there was an empty bed in my house. He was so excited it was all he could talk about all weekend long. I swore him to secrecy because I didn’t want to get in trouble for letting the cat out of the bag. When his foster mom came to get him she told me that as far as she knew, she was dropping him off on Friday and “someone” would need to come get him on Sunday because Friday was her last day. I told her he was coming to stay with me because I was “holding” him until they could find another home. He text me later Sunday night to tell me his foster mom told him he was coming to stay with me. I did warn him this was temporary, but he’s a teenager so he only hears what he wants to hear.

 

So, I have this week of freedom before I’m back to playing the role of “Mom” full time. I have to figure out what middle school he will be going to and what afterschool program he can join. And I have to disassemble the crib and move it back to the basement to give him more space in the bedroom. I’m finding it hard to convince myself to take the crib apart, probably because it symbolizes no baby in my immediate future. I will have to store the cloth diapers somewhere and move the car seat and bassinet back to the basement shrouded in black trash bags to keep the dust at bay. After the whole Christmas miracle baby debacle, I just could not bring myself to put the ready car seat and bassinet back in the basement. I never even unpacked the diaper bag. The drawers connected to the crib still hold the baby clothing I lovingly washed and folded. I was in no hurry to put all these things back into storage because I felt, for some odd reason, letting them out might bring a baby to me, like a ship drawn in by the Sirens song. My mind works in strange ways, I guess. So, tucking this all away, even temporarily, seems like an insurmountably difficult task. But, the decision has been made, there is no turning back now. Montana suggested God would bless me for being unselfish and kind in taking this kid in despite the ramifications towards my goal. Perhaps. I did it because it was the right thing to do and I am sure plenty of other people would do the same if they found themselves in my shoes. How could you not? For the life of me, I cannot understand what the draw is to my home. It is small and unexciting in my opinion. And, with no car and lots of snow, we haven’t been doing all that many fun things outside of the house either. The weekends I am fairly laid back and don’t really stick to a schedule, other than church Sunday mornings, but during the week I’m a different animal entirely. I’m sure we’ll work it out and hey, it’s just a temporary situation, right?

 

Saturday night I had a dream. I dreamt that the county was so happy I took this kid in that they decided to give me a legal risk placement too – twin baby girls. And because I was so successful with the three they gave me the toddler boy I had last year (oh, how I wish!). So I had four kids total. And since I got my adoption placement, I told the county they didn’t have to move the older kid. It was an insane dream and I’m pretty sure the house in my dream was much larger than the one I have right now. Oddly enough, I did have a baby in the house Sunday afternoon. We didn’t make it to church because the car my friends let us use had a dead battery. Ugh! I’m the grim reaper of cars! That same couple called me later in the day to see if I could watch their little girl (my church baby) while they got their taxes done. So me and the kiddo entertained their 18 month old daughter for a few hours and he took pride in making her laugh. She had fun poking the cat and following the dog around the house. And then both the kids left at the same time and my house felt so empty and quiet. Hopefully someday soon, it won’t be like that, my door will no longer be a revolving door pushing kids in and out and the only quiet is when everyone is asleep. It’s strange how easy it is to forget the time when I had little kids in my house and my free time was spent matching socks and washing diapers. I wish for those days to return…….    

A New Placement

So, I thought this weekend would be my last weekend with the kiddo. The foster home he is staying in put in their 30 days’ notice and that time is nearly up. My assumption was he would move on with a new foster family. But, the case worker from CHOR called me and left a message on my cell phone stating the county has thus far been unable to find a new foster home for the kid and since he cannot stay in the home he is in now he will need to go to a shelter by next weekend. Unless…… unless I am willing to take him in instead. Well, call me stupid, but I would much rather this kid come stay with me than go into a shelter/group home. I guess I’m too soft. Really, I am. But, I have to live with the decisions I make and I have to be able to look myself in the eye in the mirror and say, “I’m good with that.” If I willingly let this kid be put in a shelter just because I selfishly want to adopt NOW, rather than wait, well I just couldn’t live with myself. The case worker indicated the county would keep looking for a foster home for him, but let’s get real. If the kid is safe and happy with me, how hard are they going to look for another home? And, as I learned the hard way last year, even if they say it will be for a short period of time, one never knows how long a temporary placement will last. And the case worker did not say it would be a short stay – she used the word “indefinite.” When she asked me the beginning of the month if I would take the kid on as a foster placement (which he so badly wanted) I told her I would not because I want to adopt and I don’t have the bedroom space to have this kid and still wait to adopt. Once I got to talk to the case worker and reiterate my concerns, she promised to stress to the county that I am just “holding” him and that I want to adopt – not just that I want to but I am prepared to and in fact, waiting to adopt. That’s the bad news. The good news? This is a Berks county case, so maybe, just maybe if they see I’m a good foster mom with this kiddo and I help them out (so to speak) by taking him in, maybe just maybe they would consider letting me have an another adoptive placement. Maybe. I won’t hold my breath, but there could be a crack in their impenetrable armor and a ray of sunshine might burn me off the black list. Maybe. Still, this is a roadblock for my adoption journey. I won’t get any calls for adoptive/legal risk placements because I would have no space for them. I wish I could finish the room in my basement and move my bedroom down there – that would leave two rooms for foster/adoptive children. But, unless there are some little fairies out there who are willing to spin straw into gold whilst I sleep at night, that’s not going to happen. I have to deal with what I have at the moment. There are other issues I need to address with the case worker like an after school program (because I work until 4:30 and school is out well before then) and the fact that I don’t have a car right now, so unless he can get on a bus, I’m not sure how I will get him to school. *Side note – the car issue is resolved because my car is fixed, I just need to get it back which should happen sometime Monday afternoon* Also, he will have to go along with me to the beekeeping classes I’ve been taking unless he can be in respite every other Wednesday night. And the biggest issue of all – Montana. Not that Montana is an issue but I’m sure nobody involved wants the kid to become a third wheel on our dates, so this complicates our relationship. I mean, we talked about the probability of me getting a placement and that making things a little more complicated for us, but we both assumed this would be a younger child, so potentially I could tuck the little stinkers into bed and we could chat in the living room for a bit. Not so with an older child. But, I guess it’s just something to work through. The kid can still stay with another foster family in respite on the nights we want to be alone, it just requires more planning than  we do right now. I’m sure we’ll figure it out. But, all of this swimming in my brain makes my head hurt. He moves in next week sometime (I’m thinking next weekend) so I have next week to clear all the baby paraphernalia out of that room and prepare for a teenage boy!     

No again

Well, it’s been a week since the last call for a placement and I got a call late this afternoon letting me know it's not gonna happen. They found a home to take all 4 girls. The case worker said she was sorry to have to tell me no again. At least she acknowledged how sucky this process is..... 

 

It snowed, we shoveled out. It snowed again and we shoveled out again. Now it’s supposed to warm up and rain. And people think the snow will be gone. Hardly. I was out of work for 5 days straight – Thursday for the snow storm, Friday because no buses were running after the snow storm (and the people who take me to work were off) and then the weekend plus President’s Day. At least I had the kid with me for the weekend and President’s Day. He came Friday afternoon. Neighbors I go to church with lent me their car for Saturday and Sunday so we could go grocery shopping and run some other errands. But, it was snowing and I didn’t want to be out and about in someone else’s car. After church we had to take the car to get a plunger because the toilet got clogged somehow. At least I was able to fix it. My car has still not been fixed and I just keep grinding my teeth and accepting the kind offerings of friends willing to share their vehicles on the weekends and co-workers kind enough to take me to and from work. Last Wednesday night I went to my first beekeeping class. My cell phone battery was dead (I effing HATE this phone for that reason) and I was driving my grandparents car (I have a car charger converter but it was in my car, not with me – a problem I rectified). I had no idea where I was going and got so lost. I was late to the meeting, which stressed me out even more. And then, as the snow began to fall, I got lost on my way home. It was so stressful I am dreading going back to the class! I don’t have anxiety about many things, but getting lost is one of them. I know that seems silly, since I’ve spent time in foreign countries and managed to bumble my way around using public transportation and my own two feet, but when it is dark and you are trying to read directions while driving a car that isn’t yours, well it’s the perfect storm for “getting lost” anxiety. I lost count of how many times I turned around and wept most of the way there and home. I won’t let this stop me because the class was very informative (even if I couldn’t enjoy it due to the anxiety and arriving late), but I kind of dread it. When I signed up for the class last month I worried about having a placement before the classes ended (they are supposed to be every other Wednesday through March but the first class was changed to last week due to inclement weather). Now, I just worry about getting there and back.

 

So, the kid should be back again this coming weekend. He told me last week that his (bio) mom told him CHOR found a new family for him. But, when I talked to the foster mom yesterday, she didn’t seem to indicate that there was a family willing to take him in and that her 30 days was up on the 28^th and she was unwilling to keep him any longer than that time. It’s so hard when a kid doesn’t fit into a family and needs to be moved because once that decision has been made, it seems like the kid goes into over-drive acting up. At least that is my experience. For me, this kid is no problem at all. But, since I only have him on the weekends and put no demands on him (like doing his homework or doing chores), it’s pretty much whatever we decide to do. If this were a permanent situation, it would be different. I know that’s still what he wants. We’ve talked about it and he understands why that cannot be, but he still thinks he will be coming to my house every weekend. If I ever get a placement, he won’t be able to come (unless I get just one child and it’s a boy). And I’m sure once they move him, they (CHOR and the new foster family) will expect him to fit into the new family and spend time with them. He knows he is always welcome with me and I think that really matters to him, knowing he can reach out to me whenever he likes. As he gets more comfortable with me, he’s been more affectionate, sometimes laying his head on my shoulder or giving me a light squeeze. With little ones, I have no problem getting and giving hugs and kisses – in fact I enjoy that every much. With older kids, especially the opposite sex, I’m a little leery. It’s not that I don’t want to be affectionate, but being single and only the two of us in the house, I worry about allegations (which I probably wouldn’t worry about if not for the trainings we get about avoiding allegations). I don’t discourage his affection because it’s all been appropriate, but it bothers me. It bothers me that I don’t feel like I can truly treat him like I think I would treat a teenage son (egad!) and then it bothers me that it bothers me. Hugs can be a great thing when you feel like you really need a good one. I’m a grown up and I still really appreciate a nice bear hug from my dad. It’s reassuring and comforting – a hug means you truly belong. When the kid came over on Friday he told me he was supposed to be with his mom for the weekend, but he was worried about leaving me alone on Valentine’s Day (and the county did not have time to check out his mother’s place, so he couldn’t go anyway). I had mentioned that Montana would not be around for Valentine’s Day and that this made up holiday was one I despise because it was the day Flaco decided to leave (it’s been 2 years now, can you believe that? It feels a lot longer to me). He was worried about me being alone and anti-Valentine.  Bless his little heart! He has grown up having to take care of his mother, rather than the other way around, and now he feels like he needs to take care of me too! I told him I was fine and there was no need to worry about me. We did walk to the local diner for dinner on Friday. He was talking to his girlfriend via text and she was mentioning things I would never have dreamed of talking about when I was her age! Things like, guessing the size of her boyfriend’s penis, wondering what sex would feel like, how “they” would start, what would he do if she got pregnant. Really?! I think of myself as a realist and I don’t think things should be hidden from children, like they’re blind and stupid. But, I am also not equipped for the birds and bees talk! Especially with a boy!! Geeze Louise! Still, I asked him if he ever had this conversation with an adult and he said no. So I told him he needed to talk to a grown-up he trusted to get a real understanding before jumping into anything. I didn’t want to be preachy but for the love! They can’t even drive but they are talking about sex?! I mourn the loss of innocence in children these days! We talked a little bit about the things his girlfriend pondered on our walk back home and then let the subject drop, much to my relief.

 

At church on Sunday, I was the one opening the service with a reading from Scripture, prayer, prayer for the offering and a reminder for up-coming events. It was my friends turn to teach Sunday school, but her little girl fell asleep during worship. Since her husband was putting away the computer and projector we use to follow along to the worship songs, I took her baby and held her while she slept. And she slept through the whole service. I cuddled her as she lay on my left shoulder and every now and then I would reach up and stroke her curls, pat her back, or rub her soft cheek. As I hugged her to me and enjoyed our snuggle, I thought “this is all that I want” – just a sweet baby asleep on my chest. It might seem silly, but these little moments give me some hope. These little moments of mothering a child soothe my damaged heart and remind me that I am not wholly unworthy of motherhood, I have some use in that realm. I could have sat and held her forever but after the service her dad wanted to wake her up and it was back to reality. The reality of waiting and hoping and praying and wondering if “it” will ever truly happen for me. It’s silly, but every Monday I check my work calendar to see what day it would be a good day to get a placement and not miss out on anything too important at work. It has been 140 days since the kids left me in October and I’m still waiting. It feels like an eternity. The prospects of getting a placement to actually adopt seems like such a nebulous dream, completely intangible and unattainable. Thinking, “oh this time would be perfect”, or “this time would be ideal” to get a placement is nothing but hopeful torture. And yet, thoughts of babies or the call for a placements is never far from my mind. Maybe it should be. Maybe I should, after 5 years, really consider revamping my entire psyche to not think so much about “getting” a baby. Isn’t that what people admonish when they hear about someone struggling with infertility? Just stop trying and it will happen? I know I’ve heard that before. But, I am consumed with baby fever and I cannot extract this desire because it has become a part of me, it is woven into the very fibers of my being. There is only one cure for my case and that is to get my baby……..  

 

Long Bumpy Road

I’m in better spirits this week. Just because I refuse to wallow in self-pity anymore. I got a call this afternoon about a potential placement. A messy placement. It is a sibling group of 4, but they are going to try to split them up because CHOR doesn’t have any families able or willing to take in all 4. However, the county (the same county where the miracle Christmas baby was from, btw) has agreed to break up the group but according to the supervisor from CHOR, the county will look long and hard to find a home to take all 4 girls together before proceeding with adoption. She explained it as being a long, trying process to adopt with this county, but other families at CHOR have had success, despite the tension and worry along the way. I selected the younger two, the older one being well above my preferred age of 6 (and the older two being even older than that). According to the supervisor, the staff at CHOR schemed and brainstormed on how I could take all 4, but with the limited space and unfinished room in the basement, it wasn’t likely. What?! Holy macaroni! The girls have been in a foster home for a little over a year now but will not be adopted by that family, so they are being moved. No one knows how soon. The initial call came in last week but due to the ice storm, which was more pronounced in their county, nothing was done. The hope is to place the younger two girls with me and the older two girls with another CHOR family hoping to adopt. I don’t know how I feel about this placement. Being told it could be a long bumpy road is never something you want to hear. Breaking up a sibling group means making a concerted effort to get them together as much as possible (all the more reason to hope the other two get placed nearby). One girl would be in school (luckily I’ve had the experience of a child in the school closest to me and I actually like the school closest to me – it’s after the elementary school that things get hairy). Once again, it’s a lot to consider and would mean getting a set of bunk beds asap. While it would not be ideal to get a placement right now, because I still don’t have a car, I do have a three-day weekend coming up, so that would be a good time to get everyone settled. Although, the boy is supposed to be spending the weekend with me again, and it could be our last, so I would feel bad for him. Why does my stupid house have to be so damn small? Oh well, I have to deal with what I have! Isn’t it so silly how I immediately begin worrying about things after getting a call for a placement? Yet, so few calls result in actual placements…...

 

So, my period is a few weeks late but ever since last Friday I have been feeling it coming. You know that feeling – the clenching spasms of your uterus trying to slough off the useless lining; that tight, taunt feeling low in your abdomen, twisting and writhing to shed its skin. But, thus far no Aunt Flo. I’ve been grumpy and emotional lately, thanks to the pent up hormones flooding my system in hopes of forcing my uterus to act appropriately. Whenever my period is late it is always a hot mess. Ugh! I just want it to come and get it over with already. Sans cramps, patu.

 

So, as I wince from cramps, the newly pregnant woman at work has been trying very hard to share her pregnancy with me. She’s been craving vanilla ice cream, even though she hates vanilla ice cream – she seems delighted in this new twist of fate – and so she went for an ice cream sundae after a training this afternoon and got me one too. Because that’s what I need. A sundae. Am I five? A sundae will make it all better? She came by earlier to see if I had Sudafed or Tylenol cold because that’s what the doctor told her she could take. Listen, I told you I was happy for you, I congratulated you and promised to pray for a healthy pregnancy and baby (which I do every time I think of her and her “accidental” pregnancy), but please don’t force it down my throat. I get that you are all happy and glowie and newly pregnant, but I’m about to punch you in the throat. Not kidding. I don’t want to live vicariously through you and your pregnancy, I don’t want to know about your cravings or how you now think your house is too small for all the “stuff” you will be acquiring. I don’t want to hear about your mother admonishing you to get married or worried there will be multiple last names on the birth certificate. I want distance. I don’t want all of this in my face, rubbed in my wounds. What is a nice way of saying, “Try to be less pregnant around me, ok?” As she babbled on and on about ice cream I thought “I won’t even get to name my own children, if I get these girls. You can’t change a child’s name when they’ve had it for all these years.” And that’s my reality. So, please tell me more about your need for a bigger home and 2 am cravings for peanut butter…….

 

We are facing another snow storm, this one with the potential for greater quantities of snow. It would actually be a whole lotta fun to have kids to go play in the snow with! I would love to take them to the farm and go sledding! We could build a nice big snowman and maybe a snow fort – all the fun things I did as a kid! But, we’ve been beat up by snow storms this winter and everyone is a little weary. I have run out of places to put the snow, having large mounds in front of my porch and between the sidewalk and the curb. The snow doesn’t bother me as much as it does others – like my parents who have a dirt driveway nearly a mile long which is now a chute of solid ice – but, it is getting tiresome even for a snow-lover like me. But, like so many things in life, I have no control over the weather and whining about it will not change anything. Put on the big girl panties and grab a shovel!  

Pity Party

I need to do something. I feel like a shriveled up miserable little miser filled with bitterness and regret, wincing and cowering, just waiting for the next punch to land. I was thinking as I was falling asleep last night that I’m supposed to submit to God’s will even if that means I get nothing. My last thought was, “if all I’m meant to have is God in my life and all this misery, than just take me now, I don’t want to continue on like this I would rather just be with God in heaven.” I’m tired and I don’t mean just physically. I’m empty and hallow, I’ve got nothing left. I wish this were a coat I could just throw off and feel lighter, to break free from the pain and self-pity. But, I’m sinking deeper and finding it’s hard to breathe. I spend my days constantly on the verge of tears just hoping to make it through until I’m in my own house where I can wail and howl all the pain out to the walls that confine me in my prison. I don’t want to be this way, I don’t want to live this way. Until recently, I thought that everything was getting better, I thought that the future was finally looking bright and positive. But, I’m not allowed to be freed of the nastiness of life so easily. I really thought I had gotten through it, I thought I was soon to be totally free from the iron fist of misfortune. I thought I was moving ahead, I have a boyfriend and was approved to adopt with all the paperwork completed, I was on the precipice of getting all that I wanted. But, I was just looking into a reflecting pool and the image was quickly distorted and destroyed by life’s problems pouring down upon me. Woe is me. Life has me in a chokehold and I am slowly succumbing. After battling evil infertility, I fought hard through the double whammy of losing my husband and the foster baby we were supposed to adopt. I refused to let that get me down. I battled to stay afloat financially, cutting what I could and scrapping by, rubbing those pennies together. I admitted my wrong-doings as a foster parent to the county and faced the consequences head-on, determined to get back up after I was knocked down. I endured further placements coming and painfully going, forced myself to date despite finding it tedious and distasteful. I teetered under the loss of my car (after I foolishly lent it to Flaco and the bastard destroyed it), replacing my refrigerator (with a much small, inferior model) threatening to push me back into financial ruin. I shouldered the joint credit card debt with barely a fight because Flaco did very little to help pay his portion. I thought I was through it, I really did. I thought the tide had turned and I was on the rise. It seemed confirmed when I got the call for the Christmas miracle baby. It seemed like the stamp of approval, that my life was indeed on the up-swing. But, it was a farce. It was a cruel twist of fate. People tell me they believe that everything happens for a reason, but I do not believe that. There is no reason why that had to happen. None. And to say there was is an endorsement of the need for me to feel more pain and more loss. I vehemently disagree with the assumption that there was a good reason for that scenario to happen as it did – because there is no good reason. None. I tripped, but I was regaining my footing, I was thinking that it was just one more turn on this crazy path and that surely, my child was just around the bend, just beyond the next hill. Until I lost my car. Now, I am considering some drastic changes – like renting out my house and moving in with my parents until I can get all my debts paid off (so, like 3 years or so by my calculations). This would put adoption up in the air, since I don’t think my parents would be interested in having me parent in their home (my mom doesn’t even want to get fingerprinted for the FBI clearance to allow them to baby-sit for me before the child(ren) are adopted). But, I have sunk to this all-time low and I’m not seeing any other options at my disposal. I could walk away from my house, send the keys to the mortgage company and let them deal with it, but I just can’t bring myself to do that. I guess that would be the lowest of lows. We are measured not by how many times we get knocked down, but by how many times we get back up. This might just be my k.o., the end, one-two-three and down for the count. Buying a plane ticket to some exotic island to run away from my troubles is sounding better and better…….  

 

The newly accidental pregnancy co-worker told me she found out because she was going for an MRI and they asked her if she could be pregnant – just like they ask every single woman on the face of the planet, no matter how ironic it could be. Her lmp was 1/2/14. That’s hardly late in my book. My lmp was 12/31/13 and I’m sure not worried. But, I supposed that’s because I am lacking one very essential piece it would take to get pregnant – sperm. Well, that and a reproductive system that actually reproduces. Mine is just a waste of space. Which is kind of how I’m feeling right now, like I’m a huge waste of space. She proceeded to inform me she too has PCOS (we’ve had this discussion before) and if “this” can happen for her, it can happen for me. I’m going to punch you in  your throat – that is what I thought to myself as she was yammering on. I know I’ve posted this before, about how I abhor people insisting I will still get pregnant, despite my struggle to come to terms with the fact that I will not. Did someone die and make you god, that you can proclaim with such certainty that “it” will happen for me too? After she told me she asked how I would want to be told because she has other friends who have been trying and she’s not sure how to tell them. Thanks for making me your guinea pig, btw. I told her I would rather be told in private by her than find it out through the grapevine and not have time to deal with it and get my game face back on. There are only two other women in the building who have not had children, other than me. One had a miscarriage last year and I have not heard if they are trying again or not. The other one is single (as far as I know) and I don’t know if she even wants kids (I don’t know her all that well). All other women have had at least one child, some more than one. I so hope I don’t get the “your next” or “when will you have a baby?” now that this co-worker is expecting. I won’t be able to handle it. Truly I won’t. I’m on the edge so as it is, I don’t need those type of its-none-of-your-damn-business questions. I’m just really not liking life right now. I’m not liking me, I’m not liking anything that I do or don’t do. I’m just – I don’t know. I don’t even know what I am. I’m tired of getting shit on by life. I’m tired of always being the loser, a day late and a dollar short. I’m tired of never being able to get ahead. I’m tired of trying to do the right thing only to get punished for it while people doing the wrong thing seem to skate by unscathed. I’m tired of feeling like there can’t be anything more I can lose only to find out I’m wrong. I think I’ll go play in traffic now…….

Dose of Disappointments

I had another snow day yesterday, well, an “ice” day really. I was in a much better frame of mind and actually got some things done around the house. I culled and filed all my loose paperwork – a task I detest and only perform once or twice a year. It’s good to be organized, even if it only lasts a short period of time. I couldn’t work up the motivation to really get the whole house cleaned, the paperwork did me in. Plus, with this messy winter, keeping my faux wood and tile floors clean is nearly impossible. I would have to wash the floors after every single trip outdoors. Spring will be here eventually……

 

One odd thing that happened yesterday, as I was preparing to go into work (we were initially given a 3 hour delay) I got a text. It was from the mom of the kiddos I had last year. She wanted to know the name of their pediatrician again. I had sent her this information before, so I just resent that same text which asked how the kids are doing. She replied she was having a bad morning but the kids were doing well. She wanted to know if I had any “new kids” and I told her I had had a few temporary placements (respites are temporary, right?) but I’m still waiting for something permanent. She told me she hopes I get a placement soon and that I would make a good mom. Really? This is the same chick who screamed at me about letting the older child talk to her grandmother and father and demanded I don’t let the children call me “mommy.” It’s easy to be nice via text. She then asked me for the dentists information, which I sent to her and our conversation ended. It’s so strange to get a text from her out of the blue like that. I guess it’s not a bad thing because it kind of leaves the door open for me to check up on the kids. Although, she could tell me anything via text and I would have no way to be sure she was telling the truth. I miss the kids a lot and wish I could see them, give them big hugs. I hope they are doing as well as their mother claims they are……

 

Being home alone has brought me a lot of time to contemplate things and my life in general. I have waited the entire month of October (the kids left on the first, so I count the whole month), November, December, and January. It’s now February and this month is quickly slipping away. I can’t even keep up the façade, I’m impatient and tired of waiting. I have ten vacation days saved to take some time off when I first get my new placement. I don’t plan on using all the days, but I’m still letting them accumulate for the occasion, assuming the day will come when I will have need to use them…… to say I’m discouraged is a vast understatement. Today I’ve been trying to dig deep and find the motivation to believe “today could be the day!” but it rings hollow in my ears. From time to time I still have dreams of holding a baby, but this does not satiate my thirst for my own child, instead it magnifies my parched condition. I try to convince myself I am in a marathon, not a sprint and this period of waiting could be not even half-over at this point. I hope I am wrong and I hope the phone will ring today or tomorrow or the next day. But, do you know what they call doing the same things over and over again and expecting a different results? Insane.

 

A co-worker told me at the end of the work day today that she is expecting. Accidentally. She just found out. Her boyfriend (they've been together since this summer) and she just decided they would start trying next month and get real serious about it after the summer. She's 35 and assumed it wouldn't be so easy to get pregnant. Psh, I've heard that one before! No need to worry! Prego! Excuse me while I vomit. Of course I wasn't so mean to her, I congratulated her and promised prayers and blessings because she's "freaking out a little." I hate her. She can now join the other "accidentally" pregnant co-worker who is due in April/May. Why can't I get accidentally pregnant? Oh, right........

 

Tonight Montana announced he is going to accompany his best friend to Florida next week to help his friend move to be a flight instructor. He's leaving Thursday, meaning he will be gone for Valentine's Day. Screw that horrid made-up holiday! I hate that day! (Lest we forget why, this was the day Flaco announced our marriage was over two years ago now). So, after today's disappointments, I need to recoup and get my game face back on. Some deep breaths. And maybe a big fat glass of wine........

Being Selfish

I feel awful, just down right awful. The kids case worker called me today to ask if I would take him in full-time. I told her, if I was just doing foster care it would be an easy yes. But, I’m waiting to adopt and taking him in would mean it would take longer. I’m being selfish. I don’t want this kid to feel unwanted because that is not the case. The case worker admitted the county told her, despite the kids claims he would be going home in another month, it will still be awhile until he can return to his mother. I can’t let myself get wrapped up in that again. I know I did the right thing (right? I did the right thing didn’t I?) but I just feel sick to my stomach about it. Like I want to call the case worker back and say, “Just kidding! I’ll take him!” But, I don’t want to go there again, I don’t want to be angry with myself for taking on a foster care case and then whining about not being a mother yet. If I’m going to stick to this year thing I need to make sure I stick to taking in *only* adoptable kids. Now I dread seeing him this weekend because I know he’s going to be upset. He had this whole thing figured out in his head, despite the roadblocks I put in front of him. I guess I should have been more forceful in saying no, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Ugh! I hate this!

Same Old Story

I’m struggling again. It’s an old story. One I am sick of living. Life was buzzing along and then –whamo! – my car breaks down and I lose it. Yesterday it snowed – a lot. More than I thought it was supposed to snow. They closed our office and I was home alone all day long. Alone. All day. I was not in a great mood. Usually, I like having a surprise day off. But, yesterday I was not good company to be around. I just feel so beat up by life and I’m reaching the end of my rope. I know we are told that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, but I feel like He’s getting awfully close. I can’t see a way of out of this dilemma (the car is not an easy fix although my dad thinks he can fix it, time is also an issue for him since he has very little to devote to fixing my car – buying a new car is out of the question since I have zero available cash to pay for new wheels) and I have grown weary from the constant barrage of difficulties that is my life. I don’t want to sit here and recount all the difficulties of the past few years but I feel them in my bones, I feel the weight of it all bending my shoulders to the ground. It seems silly to be so upset about losing a car I generally hated, but it’s not about the car, it’s my loss of independence and self-reliance. Now, I have to get a ride to and from work every day (or take the bus). This weekend, the kid and I walked over 6 miles just to get movies and take them back (we walked to the red box and home, which is a 3 mile round trip – we had to do that 2 days in a row). The kid wanted to meet a friend at the mall, so we took the bus – well, two buses really. We ended up sitting at the bus station for 45 minutes waiting for our second bus on the way home. When I told my mom we had walked nearly 6 miles this past weekend, she told me I should be used to it from walking everywhere in Greece and Nicaragua. Thanks. That’s helpful. I also had heat exhaustion twice while walking home from where the bus left me in Nicaragua. If it’s so great to be without a car, why don’t you do it? Oh, right…… My good humor is gone, my patience has worn thin, I cannot take it anymore. I’m about to go postal here people, I am about to just use my next paycheck to hop a plane to some tropical island and never return. Do you think I’m kidding? I am not.

 

I talked to the kid this past weekend and I think he understands why he can’t come stay with me on a full-time basis. It’s not because I don’t want him, but I only have one tiny bedroom and if he is there I cannot get another (adoption) placement. I explained my home was approved for adoption and how I only had the room for one placement at a time. I did tell him, as well as his case worker, that he was welcome to stay with me anytime he likes. He is supposed to be coming back this weekend. He thinks he can still come every weekend, even after he is moved. I doubt this, but I didn’t tell him that. I’m hoping he will like his new foster home better than where he is at right now and then perhaps he won’t feel the need to come to my place – not because I don’t want him, but so he is able to bond with his new foster parents and feel comfortable in their home. At least I am feeling less like Cruella de Vil trying to skin precious puppies……

 

Last Friday I got a call for a potential placement. A 7 year old girl. It’s a BCCYS placement, so I already know the answer. I guess that’s why I said yes. That and the feeling of desperation that is beginning to seep into my soul. I have never felt farther from actually getting a placement than I do now. Despite having all my ducks in a row and having everything totally ready, I don’t feel like I will ever get the placement call and I will never again have a baby in my arms. Oh, I can hear all the people screaming at me to not lose hope, “it will happen,” to trust God, to stay positive. But guess what? My give a damn’s busted. And if you want to tell me about someone else who is “worse off” than me, save your breath. I don’t give a damn about that either. Hearing someone else’s tales of woe does not help me out of my situation and it only makes me more bitter because my bad isn’t bad enough. Screw it. For whatever reason, I’ve been handpicked to go through this miserable time. Apparently, one bad thing (like the death of my marriage, infertility, losing multiple placements, my refrigerator, my cars – the Neon and now the Taurus) is not enough, I need to be hit with one thing after another after another. And then have a carrot dropped in my face, so I believe in the possibility of something good happening (the Christmas miracle baby) only to yank it away again. I’ve had enough. Do you hear me? ENOUGH! Where’s the good that I’ve been waiting for and praying for and hoping for? I guess it got lost and went to someone else instead. I’m treading water here and the sharks are beginning to circle………