Four Years Together

Today marks the fourth anniversary of Primero moving in, thus starting our journey to becoming a family. Primero reminded me of the date earlier this week, commenting that he misses the simplicity of our earlier days. I agreed and we reminisced about the beginning. Part of the changes were due to the little ones moving in and the rest results of Primero maturing. As I mentioned to him, sometimes it seems like four years is a long time, sometimes I can’t believe we haven’t been together longer. Primero has been such a blessing in my life, it’s hard to sum it up in simple terms. I’m very lucky that he is the amazing young man that he is and, despite my recent malaise, he is a really good kid. I’m so grateful I have been able to be a part of his life these last four years and I’m equally as grateful to take a backseat and watch the amazing things he will do next. With his beautiful heart and strong determination, I know he will go far in life and succeed in achieving the goals he sets for himself. I’m looking forward to the next four years and many, many more after that.   

Cry Me A River

Things are hard right now. There are glimpses and moments of happiness and contentment, but for the most part, I have a lot of things that make me want to sit and cry my eyes out.

 

• My mom is struggling emotionally as well as physically with the chemo. There were a bunch of clerical errors before she had her first round of chemo and then issues with the medication and a reaction during her chemo. She doesn’t want to continue fighting, she wants to give up and I don’t know what to say to her. My sister and I talked about how much we wish she would consider therapy. Apparently she told my sister she wanted to talk to our old pastor from childhood (there is a VERY long story that explains how shocked my sister and I were by this proclamation). I did some internet research and found him pretty quickly and we are letting our father decide to bring it up to our mom or not. My sister isn’t comfortable reaching out to him, so it will fall to me if we decide to proceed. I’m going with my mom to her next round of chemo in March.  
• For reasons I still don’t understand, I woke up with hives Saturday morning. It started on my back and progressed to my stomach, chest, arms and down to my upper thighs. Usually I call my mom about stuff like this because she is a nurse. But, my mom was feeling terrible from her first chemo on Wednesday, so I couldn’t very well bother her with my issue. I called my dad. He was less reassuring, but he did talk me into taking some Benadryl. I hate Benadryl because it makes me so drowsy. And, I only had children’s Benadryl. It helped with the itching but the hives remained until the next day when they disappeared as magically as they appeared. What’s disturbing is that I don’t know what caused them so I don’t know how to avoid making them come back.
• Primero, for whatever reason, decided to share with me his experimentation with marijuana, once over the summer with his ex-girlfriend and once edibles at school. The whole at school part has me the most upset, but I also don’t love the fact that he felt the need to try it to begin with. He has seen how this stuff pans out with his siblings but still wanted to try it for himself. He insists it had no effect on him and says when he smoked it I didn’t know. I might have been suspicious, but I don’t remember. I just feel a great disappointment. I’m sure other parents will tell me it’s no big deal, I should be glad it’s “just” pot, but that’s dismissive and unhelpful. Plus, this is combined with his drinking (which he also did at school and got caught) and general “I want to experiment” attitude makes me worry. Primero got upset when I said I was disappointed that he became a follower and let peer pressure persuade him. I’m still processing this whole thing.
• Last week at court was a mess because of an accident that was my fault. The beginning of February we were out shopping and the little ones were acting out, running around and not listening. At one point, I had scooped up Love Bug and I was trying to grab Chica Marie before she slid under a clothing rack. I tripped just as I grabbed her and ended up scratching her on the inner side of her elbow. I scratched her pretty good, leaving very noticeable marks. I felt terrible about it, since my intention was just to grab her arm not scratch her. I sent a text to her TSS and email to the CHOR case worker only it never got to the county. Thus, the whole hullabaloo during court. So, not only do I feel terrible about the whole incident, but now I’m worried which is only compounded by the fact that I can’t find the email I sent. This in and of itself could be a reason to break out in hives…
•  The guy I’m sort-of seeing announced to me yesterday he’s getting a vasectomy in April. I have a terrible poker face and he sensed something was wrong. I lied and told him I didn’t care but it’s tearing my heart out and it’s just all so stupid. It all feels like a cruel joke and I just don’t understand the punch line.
• I meant to do my taxes over the weekend but didn’t manage to get it done because Primero went for coffee with a new friend which ended up taking all afternoon and evening. I need no distractions to do the taxes (I use Turbo tax), so I didn’t even bother to try with the kids being awake. Doing your taxes doesn’t make you want to cry?  

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Fat Girl Yoga

I know, in the world of infertility, there is no real winner, no one with an easy path and I’m not trying to join the Pain Olympics. But, in dealing in passing with the unwanted pregnancy of Primero’s friend it struck me that I have never, not once, not even a little bit, been pregnant. Not that I want to have been pregnant and lost the baby because that is so painful in a different way, but it makes me profoundly sad to think my body is so messed up it simply cannot do what it was designed to do. My ovaries and uterus are like a beautiful yacht sitting on dry land; it looks like a nice seaworthy vessel but it’s never been in water let alone sailed to a beautiful destination. I don’t know why it makes me feel as sad as it does.

 

Maybe I’m just struggling right now because my period has been such a bitch I honestly contemplated doing something permanent to no longer get a period. I just can’t stand how much it interferes with my life, the gushing blood and time it takes to clean up after the mess. And all for nothing because my ovaries don’t do the only thing they’re supposed to do and my uterus just collects blood to irritate my for 10 days every month. The progesterone helps a bit but what I’m finding is, it’s hard to keep the supply coming at a steady pace (both a me issue and an issue with the pharmacy taking FOREVER to fill the prescription and mail it to me), which results in the hot flipping mess that is my pointless, miserable period. This has been going on for too long and I am so tired of it; tired of how miserable it makes me feel, tired of hoping I don’t bleed through the tampon and pad while I’m not at home. Tired of stained sheets and ruined clothing. This is what pushed my mom to have a hysterectomy – just to stop the madness. I feel so done with it all.

 

Primero’s friend has finally decided to tell her mother so she can get an abortion and get on with her life. I’m glad she’s finally decided to take responsibility about the whole thing. When I was visiting my sister and we were talking about it my sister expressed her deep fear (still, to this day) of getting pregnant when she didn’t want to be. But, unlike Primero’s friend, she takes precautions to ensure she is much less likely to get pregnant (because nothing barring abstinence is 100%). And, while it’s not something she wants in her life, she is in a much better place (stable, loving relationship, financially secure, own a home, has a job, not a teenager) to care for an unwanted pregnancy. Honestly, I’m just waiting for the day I get to stop hearing about all of it. Not that I don’t want Primero to share what’s going on in his life, but it’s just so painful to hear and it’s nearly impossible for me to not take it all to heart. Life isn’t fair and there’s really no point in trying to make sense of any of it.

 

In other news, I spent this past weekend visiting my sister and we had a lovely time reconnecting. I hadn’t been down alone to stay with her since my birthday in 2012, so it was due time (I had been down to visit with my parents and grandmother when she graduated from grad school last spring). She had our schedule pretty planned out, because that’s her type A planner, but it wasn’t too intense and we had a lot of fun. She took me to a yoga class, my first ever live class. I was a little very nervous because I had only ever done yoga at home with a video and I tended to yell profanities at the instructor (it was a more intense yoga, my sister took me to a beginners class) when it got hard. Plus, if I look a fool in my living room who cares, but in front of a room full of people? No thank you. And, I should mention, my sister has just become a certified yoga instructor, so there’s that. Anyway, I ended up really loving the class and only having minor issues with two poses, so it was pretty cool. The instructor, who my sister knew, was super sweet so that certainly helped, but what I liked most was the peacefulness at the end of the class. The instructor told us to spread out, make ourselves take up as much space as possible, connect with our breathing and relax and it was so nice! So, I came home and, as fortune would have it, promptly found a yoga studio (sadly, not the one my sister uses) offering a beginners six week class and so I signed up and apparently I do yoga now. I am a little intimidated because yoga isn’t really a fat girl thing, but I’m lucky that I’m pretty bendy and so, other than the standing on your head things, I can get into most of the poses. I also need to purchase a few things I can wear because I’m really not a t-shirt girl (too short-waisted and chubby) and I only have a few leggings. I do have a yoga mat, so there’s that. Yeah, so I do yoga now, who knew?

New Chapter

I’ve been thinking about why I found it so hard to let go of inanimate objects. These things in and of themselves are fairly meaningless. Yet, I attached emotional meaning to them when they became tied to my hopes of being a mother. So, the crib and swing and all the stuff was somehow holding the dream, keeping the hope of a baby alive. But, the reality was, this stuff was just sitting in my basement. There were no (more) babies coming to sleep in the crib or bounce in the chair. Still, giving it away felt a lot like giving up. The silly part is, there’s nothing happening in regards to adding to my family. I mean, other than officially adopting the little ones, but as far as accepting another child into the home, that’s not happening. And, as much as I would like to keep fostering, I don’t think CHOR could approve my home for more children because I’m at capacity with three (I’ve always been approved for three). So, even with a lot of very good reasons, that emotional spot in my heart held onto these things. Some of it is the longing to have a biological child, which despite the odds I can’t readily shut off. Part of it is feeling regret for not cherishing baby Love Bug as much as I should have from the very beginning. Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but a small part of me also held back for a long time because I feared losing him and experiencing that pain. Again. And all of this got tied up into things; cold, hard, immovable things.

 

The things is, I want to be happy and content with my life right now, as it is. I love my children and while the path to get them in my life was not always a happy one, if I had to do it again to be their mom, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Yet, in contrast to that sentiment, I also wish things had gone differently in my life. I think holding on to the baby items, trying to keep a dying ember alive, it was making it hard to fully embrace the life I’m living instead of pining for the one I always thought I wanted. My hope is, in giving up the stuff, I can also let go of those constrictive feelings that bind me to a former me in a different realm of time. Too often I have a what if mentality, trying to prepare for an unknown potential in the near or distant future. I try to exert control over things I simply cannot control – probably as a results of not being able to control my infertility. Letting go hasn’t been easy, but growth is never without some discomfort. I do feel a sense of satisfaction, giving up things that are just unnecessary clutter. I am open and ready for new things, a new chapter to my life. And, you can’t start a new chapter without first turning the page, right?   

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Follow Up

Last night Primero took the pack-n-play to Esperanza’s expecting friend. I also sent the baby bottles, nipples and a large bag of clothing along. I tried to not think of the baby clothing, just dumped it into the bag, all of the baby boy clothing I had from 0-6 months. I kept a few pieces, things that I have vivid memories of Love Bug wearing, but the rest I just sent along. Primero brought the crib back to the house so now I need to decide to rehouse it or find another home in need. I heard from Esperanza that her friend’s grandmother is planning on buying her a bassinet, so my worries about a newborn sleeping in a pack-n-play were relieved. A bassinet is a much better option, in my opinion. I was sincerely worried for this young woman when Esperanza told me the only thing she had was a diaper gene. I know, it’s really none of my business, but the thought of bringing a baby home and not being prepared at all just frightened me. Maybe her family was planning on getting her things, I don’t know, but she’s due in April, so I think it’s better to be prepared than not.

 

The other not-my-business situation with Primero’s pregnant friend really has me upset. Again, not my circus and all that, but I am only human and things tend to crawl under my skin. The pregnant friend, as reported to me by Primero, is still hoping her estranged father will consent and pay for her to have an abortion. It does not seem that she has spoken to him, so it might just be wishful thinking. She is still struggling with high blood pressure and taking blood pressure medication, which Primero stated she hopes causes a miscarriage. Her back-up plan is to have someone punch her in the stomach to cause a miscarriage. And I just can’t. I understand her not wanting to proceed with the pregnancy and her desire for an abortion. Do I think she should have done a better job in actually preventing the pregnancy? Yes, but an early abortion under the direction of a doctor would help her out of the sticky situation she got herself into. It’s her continued irresponsibility that is making me have heart palpitations every time Primero brings up her name. I have voiced out loud if she sincerely wants an abortion or if perhaps she wants to have the baby. By her current actions, she seems a likely candidate to have a baby in a public bathroom and walk away. I know that sounds harsh, but asking someone to punch you in the stomach to end the pregnancy is pretty reprehensible. As someone unable to get pregnant, this entire situation rakes over me like nails on a chalkboard. My steady recommendation to Primero is that she just tell her mother. I understand the girl is worried about her mother’s reaction, especially considering how angry her mother was after the boyfriend was caught sneaking in, but these are the consequences she faces for the choices she made. She chose to sneak the boy back into her house, multiple times. They chose to not use any form of birth control. They were being reckless and irresponsible, as teenagers are wont to do. But, it’s time to man-up now and face the music. Her mother is suspicious and asking about her period, what better time to fess up? I keep hoping her mother finds out so the whole saga can be put to rest. Not my circus, not my monkeys but it’s been bothering the hell outta me!

 

Yesterday the endocrinology office called me to let me know everything is ok with my thyroid, the findings were negative, benign. So, that is good news. I’m not sure if I need to go back to see the endocrinologist or not, the office is supposed to call me back with an answer to that question. In the meantime, I’m continuing with the regimen the nutritionist has me doing because I think it’s is helping. Except the Progesterone. It takes time to get the refills, which results in time without the medication that results in errant bleeding. Oh does that drive me batty! Mid-cycle bleeding, early spotting before my period, random moments of spotting for no reason at all – I hate my body! Will my body ever just make the hormones it needs? Could my body just be normal?! No, I suppose not. But, at least my thyroid is not trying to kill me….  

Growth Is Hard

Over the weekend I finally got around to digging out all the baby stuff to clean it off for Esperanza’s friend. It ended up being a lot more than I thought. In addition to the crib (which converts into a toddler bed and twin bed), there was the mattress, a stroller, a bag of blankets and burp cloths, a walker, a high chair, a swing, and a bouncy chair. It was exhausting, digging it all out and wiping it off. It was also raining and the backyard was a muddy mess, so having to drag a few of the bigger items out the basement door was also an arduous task. Primero helped me heap it all into the van and there was barely enough room for the kids to fit when it was all tucked inside. Luckily it was a short drive to the girls apartment. Esperanza, Primero and the mom-to-be unloaded the car, I stayed with the kids and handed them items. The girl was appreciative but I heard from Primero and Esperanza that her mom was agitated. Her mom was yelling at her about all the stuff and how she wasn’t supposed to be there (I’m thinking the mom might be getting public assistance for the house and letting her daughter live there illegally? I have no clue). My heart hurt for her so much to know her mother wasn’t excited about having a new grandbaby (or she might be and I just don’t know the whole situation). Esperanza text me stating she cannot keep the crib because it’s too big. So, now I’m faced with the dilemma of either giving her the pack-n-play or offering her the small apartment crib I didn’t want to give away. I have no problem giving her the pack-n-play because I have two of them, but I worry about having a newborn sleeping in it. I just don’t know if it’s safe. I know some pack-n-plays have a sort of hammock for new babies, but this one does not. I really like the small crib and I think my attachment to it is because Love Bug slept in it. He never slept in the convertible crib. Still, I go back to the original thought, which is there is no need for me to hang onto these things. I don’t know if I think I’m totally done family building, maybe I’ll adopt again in like 10 years, but for now it’s not being used and has no prospect of being used in the near future so why not pass it along? I also need to dig out the baby clothing, which I know will be hard for me to part with but again it’s just stashed under my bed taking up space. Ugh, growth is such hard work!

Finding My Lobster

Today marks six years since my ex-husband left. It’s a complicated day for me, one I’ve grown to despise. On the one hand, I don’t think romantic love should be celebrated just once a year and I’m not big on the showy, over-the-top displays of affection. On the other hand, it gets lonely being single and it makes me feel sad that there’s no one who thinks I’m special enough for even a simple gesture of love. I really should avoid social media on Valentine’s Day, but I didn’t think of it until it was too late. A mom to one of Chica Marie’s former classmates posted a card from her husband. It wasn’t that the card was uber romantic or anything like that, it just spoke to her. It had a picture of Ross and Rachel (from Friends) and the bottom had little red lobsters and it said, “You’re my lobster.” If you’ve never seen that episode of Friends you won’t really get it, but being a fan, it was cute. And it made me long for someone to “get me” like that.

 

On the romance front things are complicated. I don’t regret breaking up with my boyfriend and it’s not that I’m totally miserable being single. The complication comes from a friend. We’ve been friends for a handful of years and there has always been an underlying tension and chemistry but when we first met we were both married. Our friendship intensified when I became single but he was still married and I kept him very much at arm’s length. We now find ourselves both single and we’ve been making good on the whole chemistry thing. Except…. I like to know where things are going and we are solidly in limbo-land, which kind of bugs me. Some days more than others. I don’t think we are dating, but we also aren’t seeing other people. It’s just sort of a mess and, if I let myself think about it, I get a little crazy. I feel like I’ve done a lot emotional work and I’m really ready for a serious relationship. You can’t tell someone else when/if they are ready, but in terms of time, he’s only been separated from his wife for 2-3 months, so I doubt he’s ready to really dive back into something serious. Not to mention there’s his kids and my kids and I know his wife, we used to go to church together, so there’s that added awkwardness. I don’t know. It’s complicated. And all I want to do is find my lobster….