Well, I’m okay. I’m just not okaaaayy-okay. You know, kinda like chocolate chip cookies that have nuts in them. I like them, I just don’t liiiike them-like them. They are fine and will do if that’s all there is, but if I had my way they would be different…
Or maybe not like that at all.
So, five months later and all I still think about is:
- I should be incredibly fat right now (legal twin pregnancy fat not the obsessing about chocolate chip cookies sans nuts, fat).
- What our life would have been like with two little ones.
- Am I gonna run into one of the adorable pregnant girls at church on Sunday and can I keep it together if I do?
- When does the statute of limitations run out on feeling like crap?
and as much as I know that there is no answer and God is in control,
I think the biggest disappointment is that I’m 42, gonna be 43 real soon. That was my last real chance at more kids of my own. Before anyone comments that there is still time, that their sister-in-law had three kids after 45 years old…, it is not a matter of not being able to get pregnant, it is the problem I have staying pregnant. Not a risk I am willing to take. We’re talking adoption. We’ll see.
I haven’t blogged much since most of my time has been spent feeling sorry for myself, and I just couldn’t fit blogging into that tight schedule. But I think I need to get back to writing. I have some funny blog posts that have been piling up in my head such as: why I am so freaked out and disturbed by our male dogs humping each other, my daughter asking me if her teacher was a drug addict when she saw her smoking in her car during red ribbon week and why I believe my bangs are the source of all my powers. Good stuff, right?
My plan is to stay the course. Give it over to God every stinking day. See what the adoption option brings us and move forward as best I can.
So, I guess I’m okay-okayish.