12

Sometimes in the midst of the big couch of problems, you find something that you’ve been missing.  Not really a superlative metaphor, but on Friday, I had a sofa-bed of frustration but I found some spare change in amongst the cushions.

Friday, on day 17 of my cycle, I started a new cycle.  This is way too early.  This isn’t supposed to happen.  I was so upset, and I don’t know why.  And I absolutely know why.  I am in the bargaining stage of losing you, Maya.  I plead with higher powers that I’ll give up caffeine, I’ll think nice of people who I am not prone to thinking nice about, I will take every pill at the same time each day, I will take my vitamins with fierce regularity, I will swim 2x a week and lose weight, I will do so much, if only I can have you.  I was sure my pleas were being heard.  I was absolutely going to beat the odds this month!  Then, my period came.

Which brings me to an interesting point.  I write here because I know very well no one that I know in my real day-to-day life wants to hear me whine about such personal topics.  I don’t even like to hear myself whine!  Yet here I am, saddened, calling the doctor for an appointment tomorrow to figure out what went wrong.

Friday, the heartbreak was horrible.  Delusions were shattered (perhaps for the best), and I did not want to cook dinner.  Tom took me out to our favorite Indian food place and to my joyous surprise, we’ve become regulars!  It made me smile to see our regular waiter & waitress smile at us and ask if we were going to order our regular dishes, and they had our appetizer ready in record time for us!  They are so nice and sweet, and I love that I am supporting a local vegetarian restaurant.  It makes the drive there worth it 110% of the time!

Saturday, we were doing well!  We worked in the yard, and I thought of you picking up the pinecones and putting them in a bucket for us, just like how I helped my mom and dad with yardwork.  Then we’d go inside and make bird-in-the-nests and take a nap.

Sunday was not a good day.  Everyone was together at your Oma & Opa’s and they were fawning over Sophia, watching her eat a cracker.  Every family member was cooing and congratulating her and taking pictures of her.  I couldn’t stand it.  It seems more and more the measure of value is the ability to reproduce, and it’s the one thing I cannot seem to do.  I am more and more afraid to adopt now because I wonder if my child would be treated like a second-class citizen to her cousin, especially by her cousin’s mother, who tried for 6 years for Sophia, only to ostracize everyone once she had Sophia.

Are all these things so selfish?  I hate whining, I hate running to the bathroom to cry at family gatherings, I hate feeling worthless for this.  I wish I could “grow up”.