When I avidly kept a journal (and I'm ashamed to say it was many years ago), I wrote in it often. But only when I wanted to complain, vent or do some other negative writing. I've tried really hard not to let my blogging become the same thing. Who the heck cares about only the depressing things in another person's life? A sadist. That's who.
But I've had a bit of a hard day and I feel the need to whine and complain. And since this blog is the closest thing I have to a journal, here I go.
Dribble died today. He was Emma's dear little tortoise that she got for Christmas. We have some theories on what happened, none of them that bring any peace. But I'm so sad that my little girl's pet, the one she begged for for so long, wasn't able to thrive. I didn't expect to love a tortoise, but I did. I think all of us did. It's just so sad to think of him gone and not getting to see him be big enough to wander the back yard or meander over to us to be pet on the head. These are things tortoises do and we looked forward to it. Little Dribble made me happy to have a pet. Granted, he was quiet, but I didn't expect to be so taken by a pet. We already miss him so much. It makes me want to cry just thinking about him.
I'm really trying not to be an awful person, but I'm having a hard time being happy for pregnant people right now. And several of my friends are in the motherly way. I want to be pregnant. And I definitely am not. It's really crappy to realize that I should be posting the gender of my baby and possible names. I should be scrambling to find all the pinks or blues. I should be wondering where I put this baby item and why did I give that one away. But I'm not. It's been three months of disappointment. Who knows how long it will take to have another baby. Maybe another month? Doubtful. Maybe another year? Probably. I don't have much faith in getting pregnant easily. That's not how it usually happens for me. I don't know that I can go another two years of constantly aching for the child I know is coming, but won't seem to just come. I hold Millie dear because it did take so long for her to be conceived, but I just don't know if I can go through that again. So if you're reading this, and you're pregnant, know that I love you. Deep down I'm happy for you. But right now it's really deep.
And the last thing I'm upset about today is that I've eaten all the calories for the day and I really want some Oreos. Like, 20 of them. Double Stuf. And some milk. But I'm going to go to bed instead.
And this is why I generally censor myself.
3 comments:
I'm sorry to hear about Dribble. That's sad. Tell Emma that Aunt Lori sends hugs her way for her lost pet.
And as for my sister, I really wish that I was there to wrap my arms around you! Hang in there Shell. Things will happen. I love you!
Ahhh, I am shedding tears for you (and on my birthday, nonetheless)... My heart aches for you and those bad days. Know that I love you too and as I think about being pregnant, you come to mind often, and I say a little prayer for you...every time. If I were closer I would bring you some oreos and we would eat them anyway! So it's probably a good thing that I'm not.
Life is hard sometimes...and it's okay to be sad. Big hugs. Hope you find a smile sometime soon.
What they said.
I haven't done well with pets since my dog died. In high school. Those critters do tend to get into your heart... I'm sorry about Dribble. I'm sorry you're not pregnant. And I'm sorry that double stuf Oreos and milk have calories in them.
And all my sorry can't make it a bit better. long-distance hugs in your direction.
Post a Comment