Wednesday, May. 17, 2006 - 11:28 p.m.
Cost of the War in Iraq
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
Sometimes when I see people strolling through the park with newborns they never thought to conceive a year ago...
and sometimes when I see photos of people's kids on blogs, and the kids look so much like them...
and sometimes when I see artsyguy and his kid, who is taking his dad's electric guitar to school and showing what he learned to play and artsyguy is goofing with the kid all proud and I look from face to face for the resemblances...
and sometimes when I read about the longing for a blood connection to their mother than adopted kids have...
I feel great sadness and pain.
Want me to admit something?
Last year? In nov/dec? When artsyguy was all "je veux faire un long bout de chemin avec toi" (I want to do a long bit of road with you... it makes sense in french), and we got appointments to get checked for stds so we could be fluid bonded, and I misunderstood what he said about having wanted to have his second kid (before the 2nd was conceived) as a planned kid in a committed relationship....
I fantasized that maybe mr. fertile could get me pregnant. That we wouldn't try, but while waiting for adoption shit and paperwork and homestudies and waitinglists and all that, it might happen. I might have a cute kid who would have a brother and sister and grandparents and a father and all that.
Can you believe it??
Who knows. I am just 42. It could have conceivably happened.
Now it seems like a cruel joke.
So much for all that planned time off grieving ob so I'd be open and ready for a real relationship. Something with a future. Someone who wants to commit. Someone who wants me. Really. Not a Ma'am or a girl from Germany, or a parttime fuckfriend. But me. All of me. for close to forever. And wants a family.
And how I screwed that up by being artsyguy's rebound girl.
Lot's of luck I'll get pregnant. Or even have someone look in my eyes and say "i love you".
How many years did I imagine my kids?? All their different hopeful permutations??
gotta get back to work
4 People have left cute, callous or caring comments on the wench's wordiness!!
Go to "notes" instead of comments
ps, you'll need to email me for a username and password
previous meanderings - future past
Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
*inspired by Chaosdaily