Thoughts

I've been thinking about motherhood a lot lately. I have not yet been inducted into the club of ripening bellies and car seats, of bedtime stories and diaper changes. My womb has not yet quickened; there is no child with my hair. But, someday, hopefully soon, there will be.
Will I be a good mother? I lose my temper easily and am prone to stress and rapid frustration. Will I scream? Will I be cold, like my mother frequently was? Will I be overly doting and cater to my child's every whim as the antithesis of my childhood? More urgent in my mind, and more shameful, is my question of whether I can love a child at all. Am I capable of selflessness? Sure, I adore other people's babies, but will I resent my own? What if I find out I am having a girl when I am hoping for a boy? Will I secretly be devastated when I see the results on the ultrasound? Will I pretend to smile and be excited about having a daughter when I long for a son? How can I think this way?! Will I be overwhelmed by all that I have to do and resent my husband? Will I regret my decisions and long for the times when I was a free woman and could do whatever I pleased? I am a terrible person.

Reinvention

My sister ran into my ex fiance on campus of my alma mater last week. She texted me to ask if I thought he would still be in school. I said yes, I believed so, since I recently saw that he was listed as graduation in 2010 on a social networking site. She quickly responded that she had seen him and he acted as if he didnt really recognize her. I told her he was probably pretending.


Its amazing how time heals all wounds; now I am almost incredulous that I actually loved this man. He dragged me into his sad, depressing, dark world and I was so lost when I left it that I had forgotten about the light. It was like being bipolar: together we experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows. I needed medication. After we were free of each other, I experienced a reinvention that I recommend to everyone at least once in a lifetime. I, for once in my life, felt limitless.

I lost the 20 lbs I put on while trying to eat my feelings during our year and a half together and returned to my original svelte size. Armed with a new found sense of self--and the somehow seductive aura of grief and rage that I possessed--I set out to do some damage of my own. I dated and dumped 8 guys during a 4 month span (luckily, most of them still speak to me). I wore my first bikini in public and made it a point to count how many eyes I could catch. I had a man show up at my apartment at midnight in tears, begging me to come back to him while I was on the phone with my next target. I modeled. I flirted. I smiled. I even seduced his best friend. I had discovered that mystical power that the pretty girls in my classes seemed to possess that I just couldn't understand--beauty tied with confidence and sprinkled liberally with sensuality. I was hot.

A series of unfortunate events

I think my favorite part of talking with other people is finding out their stories; the little bits and pieces of experience that have lead them to this place and point in their lives. Every person is made like a quilt, with large and small pieces of time stiched together with multicolored threads.
So here is one of my squares for your enjoyment.



Downhill Date

Ive been sledding on many dates, having lived in Utah for most of my late teenage and early adult years. My first sledding date ended up being a two month fling with a guy in my classes. My next sledding date--a deliciously illegal midnight ride down the hills of the Deer Valley Ski Resort--ended up being my fiance a year later (and six months after that, my ex-fiance). The last sledding date was with C and as we were flying down the hill we caught air, flew off the sled and he landed on my ankle: spraining it and I had to keep it wrapped for three weeks. However, this particularly memorable sledding date was not because of the guy (my last boyfriend before my now husband) but because of a rare sense of wild abandonment I experienced.

I am terrified of many things, and sliding wildly down icy slopes is one of them. So is jumping off anything higher than a step stool. Therefore, sledding wasnt always an entirely comfortable experience (nor was that one time I went skiing--never again).
My then-boyfriend J, his best friend J.P,. J.P.'s date, and I went to a man-made sledding hill course outside of the town where we lived. Me, being the scaredy cat I am, was nervous with anxiety about yet another sledding fiasco. When we arrived I pleaded with my bf that we try the smaller hill first. After realizing that it was par with most turtle's average pace, I decided I was ready to try the bigger hills.

At the bottom of the course there was a barricade of bright orange plastic fencing with metal poles holding up the fence to prevent riders from dropping to their deaths into the lower parking lot--about a 20 foot drop. On the hills themselves, flashing lights indicate where riders must firmly drag their feet to significantly slow the inner tubes before reaching the bottom of the hill to avoid injury.

At the top of the largest hill, the four of us linked our tubes together and began to slide at an ever increasing speed down the hill. I was laughing with exhilaration by the time we reached the flashing lights and I going downhill headfirst, facing uphill at my boyfriend. He kept yelling for me to drag my feet but in my happy delirium I decided to ignore him. CRASH!!! We slammed into the plastic fencing. Inner tubes, boots, limbs, and a significant amount of powder flew into the air. I was laughing so hard I didnt realize I had slammed into one of the metal poles. J was frantically yelling at me asking if I was ok, if i was hurt. The tears in my eyes prevented me from seeing his face and I bent over in the snow, clutching my sides in waves of mirth. Finally he grabbed me and turned me over and saw that I was laughing, not crying, and he collapsed beside me in the snow, giggling. The attendant came rushing over and began waving an admonitory finger in our faces and told us that if we pulled that again, we would be ejected from the course.

Letting go and moving on is the hardest.
Little memories still sting and it takes so much
to let the tiny cuts heal.
But the struggling butterfly
that is us,
has finally broken free from the sticky cocoon,
that was us.
Ill not clip its wings.
So Ill paste the tiny bandages,
over the dozens of tiny stings.
And put my big girl face on.
Because that fragile, beautiful winged creature
is worth the bittersweet.

No, no, no

So this might be my most honest post yet.
[Deep breath]

I have 5 days of the pill left in the pack we agreed I would take until it was finished. After said pack was empty, we would discuss whether or not to start a new one. Today we talked about it and it hit me: I don't want to stop taking the pill again. I don't want to get pregnant right now. I want things to stay the way they are. I am terrified of being pregnant and having a child. And I feel terribly guilty.

My reasons are mostly selfish:
1. I am afraid of losing my body to pregnancy and mommy flab
2. I am afraid of not being attractive to my husband and any other men.
3. I am afraid of the hormones taking over and me being even more psychotic/jealous/controlling than I already am.
4. I am afraid of the sleeplessness, the exhaustion, the lost of my "self" and individuality.
5. I am afraid of being stuck. (I know, Im a terrible person).

What if something happens and I leave him or he leaves me and I have our baby? I cant just move on with my life and go to culinary school or travel around the world to ease my pain--I have an eternal link to him.
I love him and I expect to love him forever, but these last few weeks have demonstrated that love is fragile and marriage is precarious. Two people can be driven to their edges and the dark side of the one you thought you knew surprises you. Our relationship feels too precarious right now for the life-long commitment of bringing life into the world to feel feasible.

Will I ever be ready? Who knows. For now, no baby.

The great divide,
is smaller than any organic chasm.
This space,
the one in between us,
seems insurmountable.
The three strides across the floor,
seem like leagues under the sea.
With my toes on the precipice,
You suddenly step backwards,
and my heart sinks.
That's another day's journey
added to the trek.
Will we ever find the courage
to leap across and find vulnerability
and love, and peace?
Or will we trip into that chasm
to be lost
forever...

perfect fit by The Dresden Dolls

i could make a dress
a robe fit for a prince
i could clothe a continent
but i can't sew a stitch

i can paint my face
and stand very very still
its not very practical
but it still pays the bills

i can't change my name
but i could be your type
i can dance and win at games
like backgammon and life

i used to be the smart one
sharp as a tack
funny how that skipping years ahead
has held me back

i used to be the bright one
top in my class
funny what they give you when you
just learn how to ask

i can write a song
but i cant sing in key
i can play piano
but i never learned to read

i can't trap a mouse
but i can pet a cat
no i'm really serious!
i'm really very good at that

i can't fix a car
but i can fix a flat
i could fix alot of things
but i'd rather not get into that

i used to be the bright one
smart as a whip
funny how you slip so far when
teachers dont keep track of it

i used to be the tight one
the perfect fit
funny how those compliments can
make you feel so full of it



These are the lyrics from a song called the Perfect Fit by the Dresden Dolls. Its an accurate description of my feelings. Hopefully I wont get arrested for plagiarism.