Weekend Round-Up, Final Destination time, coming to terms with terms

Weekend Thoughts: 

ON top of the world 

Friday we went to Sandy Lake Park where my step daughter was performing in a choir recital.  Her school won first place.  Congrats baby girl!

man this is a bad angle for my round face 

Hubs and I ran into Elvis on a stage coach because where else would Elvis hang out?

Scramble time 

This was me getting ready to ride. 

Somewhere in one of these cars is my family.  I made a decision recently to not post any photos of kids after the reality hit that I put my life on-line and I am realistically endangering my kiddo plus my family members under 18 whenever I post photos to my blog.  With that in mind, you may see the backs of kids heads but no longer will I post the faces.  I know most people who read blogs are not terrorist or child molesters but I am not willing to take the chance that one crazy is out there because one is all it takes.  I know I sound uber paranoid but there is a good justification behind the paranoia. 

So remember our chicks, they have sisters. 

We picked up 4 new ones

We picked up some new chicks Friday and are planning on picking up a few more.  Our babies that we picked up will have green or blue eggs.  This little yellow and white lady is my favorite.   Seriously, her name is Cinderella,  One of the grey-brown ones has an arrow on it's head so I am calling that one Katniss because my kiddo loves The Hunger Games and there is one that we decided has war paint markings so because I would not name it WP my husband suggested Winnie for WP.  

There is also Pocahontas the final little warrior bird.   I would show you a picture of my bigger chicks but I keep forgetting to take one.  They are getting so big!

Friday afternoon when we got home from the park and the feed store we finished the chicken coop, all except for me painting it.   I will post pictures when it is done.   

Rant time:

You know what my personal prediction for the downfall of this country is?   People who fail to take responsibility for their mistakes.  Friday afternoon I went to get the mail from my mailbox which is located in front of my home on an Farm To Market road.  The road is pretty well traveled for a country road and nobody goes the 45 MPH speed limit.   I actually hate getting mail because it is dangerous and I always stand there and wait for cars to pass before I go to the front of the box and get the mail because, even though my box is not on the road, people will hit me before they slow down.  So I retrieved my mail and started back the 20 some odd feet to my garage.  I no sooner asked my husband about a piece of mail in my hand than I heard a huge crash.   Someone had taken out the mailbox where I stood not 90 seconds before.   Someone went into oncoming traffic and into the yard across the street putting big ruts in the lawn before then crossing over into oncoming traffic again and pulling to the yard of a neighbor.   By the time my husband and I got to the front yard and started to check and see if said someone was injured, they took off.  They actually destroyed our under $20 mailbox and then fled because they have absolutely no sense of responsibility.   I was so angry.  My anger did not get better after talking with the police and finding out there was absolutely nothing they could do.   They simply don't have the ability to find this guy who we all decided was texting.  Now, if he had hit me, they would do something but since he caused only minor damage to the mailbox and the yard next door will eventually be okay, they can't do anything.   All weekend, for some stupid reason, I had this vision in my head that someone would come to the door and admit they were at fault and would apologize.   Did not happen because people are just stupid.  All I kept thinking about was the movie  Final Destination and how close I came to being road kill.  Guess my guardian angel worked overtime Friday night.  Maybe God has a reason?

Warning

Meanwhile, all day Sunday it rained.  My husband made me a nice mother's day dinner and thanked me for being such a good step-mom to his baby.  I was touched more by his thoughts although the dinner was really yummy.

Sunday morning, my house. 

Struggling:

I promised myself I was not going to spend a lot of time on this blog doing a poor me theme this year. I struggled for years with being single and I don't blog about my marriage because that belongs to us, but this, is my struggle and it is eating me up alive.  I can't help but think maybe talking about it will help someone else, although I don't really know how.

See, I have been struggling a lot lately with my place in life.  Coming to terms with my inability to have a child of my own.  The only thing I ever wanted, a child, since I was very little.  Coming to terms with my inability to give my husband another child, who let's be honest, doesn't actually want one at our age.  (My friends think I am nuts for wanting one when they are, in their early and Mid 40's thinking about sending everyone off to college and having free time.) I am coming to terms with not giving my step daughter a sibling, who again, she really doesn't want because she likes being an only kid, and feeling like my birth family doesn't respect or appreciate me because I don't have kids.
(This is true, by the way, not my imagination.  The grandkids are everything.  The world revolves around them.  My not being able to balance a single child to my siblings 6 is a failure).
  I know there is nothing I can do but the death of a dream which I wrote about here back in January, still hurts so darn much. I know there is no answer for why things work out this way.  I know my age won't change and my life surely can't really be pointless if I don't have someone who calls me 'Mom' but that is, frankly, where I am mentally right now.  I feel like I should have lived differently to make my life different now.  Even though I am totally blessed with my wonderful husband and great step-daughter who both love me like crazy.  It doesn't make it hurt less or fill the empty.  Anyway, I haven't been handling my pain well lately and it is so hard to find anyone who even begins to understand.   So instead of pouring my heart out in my blog and making everyone depressed or making people who are happy and excited and doing all their baby bump stuff feel guilty, I decided to take my future in my own hands and try and fix it.   We will see what happens.

Because I am too old, that is why....

source

Let me be honest, we aren't trying to get pregnant. We aren't going to have kids.  Have you read the statistics facing a 44 year old woman who tries to get pregnant?  Sometime after 35 it becomes difficult and by the time you hit 40 it is a real struggle.  I'm 44 and my husband (yes, it matters) is 47 so it would take a literal act of God. 

Coming to terms with me being childless has been the hardest thing I have ever done.  I do my internal self talk every day to remind myself to be happy with what I have.  After all, is it really that important that someone call me "Mommy"?  I sit here crying while I type because I guess somewhere inside, it is. 

Before I got married I felt like I was the last woman on earth and blogger without a husband.  Now I feel like I am the last woman on earth who hasn't been pregnant.  Who doesn't have a child of her own. 

People don't mean to say hurtful things. Sometimes they don't think.  Sometimes they are just clueless.  Do you know how many times I have heard the words "You can't understand because you don't have kids"?  Do you know how many times I have fought back tears when I hear things like that?  I hear them from friends, co-workers, family.  No, I don't know but I also don't need to be reminded that I don't know.   I do know some things most parents don't know thanks to my triplet nieces but I don't share that because coming from a childless woman, I have no pedigree. 

Then there are the well meaning friends who say "You should be glad you don't have any kids.  They are _____" fill in the blank with exhausting, time consuming, difficult, expensive,  a lot of work...whatever they think will make me feel better about being childless.  All my friends my age are looking forward to empty nests and travel.  Me? I would give my left lung to have a newborn and twenty two years of bills. 

Next there are the friends who tell me "you should be satisfied with the amazing step-daughter that God has put in your life, who loves you and who needs you."  They are right.  They are and I am.   Except that I will never have a chance to know her as a baby and see her grow or to understand the memories she has with her dad. They have a shorthand when they talk, that they developed over time and I feel so left out sometimes.  Maybe I alienate myself. I can't shake this feeling that being a step-mom is like being an aunt with a fancy title.  You have no real say and nobody really cares what you think.  I don't know.  I do know that I will never get to change her diaper or teach her to talk. (Mostly, to be honest, with an 11 year old you are trying to convince them to be quiet for a bit not encourage talking.) I will never get to feel a child grow inside me and get to experience all the joys of firsts and pregnancy: morning sickness, swelling feet, baby kicking, maternity cloths, labor pains, giving birth, holding my child in my arms, taking him or her home, sleepless nights, rocking them to sleep, and that moment where you get to watch them sleep and be in total awe that they are yours and God has granted you this amazing gift.  

There are also a few friends, good hearted souls, who tell me not to give up.  It can/will happen if God wants it to.  They even tell me stories of people who got pregnant in the all too famous "Whoops".   Yes, it does happen every once in a bazillion times.   Odds are not on my side.  Reality isn't either.  Reality is, I missed any chance I have of having my own child. Maybe I should have settled for a baby-daddy when I was younger? These thoughts could drive me insane, if I let them. I live in the real world whenever I can face it

There are all these blogs that I read where women are struggling trying to get pregnant and facing the disappointment every month.  I don't even have the disappointment to look forward to, just the inevitable knowledge that it will not ever be.  

Then there are the dreams.  The dreams that come every month right before my period hits.  The dreams of me holding my baby in my arms.  The dreams of a little girl with red curls and hazel eyes. The dreams of my step-daughter who would make an amazing big sister.  The dreams of my husband who is a silly man but a great dad and the ability to share that individual love and pride of a child, together.  To be able to watch him with a baby, something I didn't get to do.  To be able to share with him a son or daughter.  To give him the son he didn't have to take hunting and fishing.  To go to T-ball and cheer for my child.  These dreams of a child that haunts me and I wake up thinking, why am I torturing myself in my dreams?  The baby is always there, waiting but never real. 

When I was 5, after my father's death, I dreamt of him every night.  He would come to me in my dreams, wake me, and we would have wonderful adventures.  In the morning he would bring me back to my bed and kiss me before he left me to wake.  One night about a year after he passed, as he was tucking me back in to bed in the morning, he told me he needed to talk to me.  He said he couldn't come to me anymore.  He said this night was the last time I would ever dream of him.  I argued, I pleaded with him, I cried but he told me it was time for him to leave now.  That morning he went up through what my 5-6 year old mind processed as an elevator to heaven and when I woke I thought, he will come tonight.  He didn't mean it when he said he wouldn't, it was a dream.   He didn't come again.  Ever again.   

I almost look forward to the time when the actual dreams of having a baby and holding my child and rocking her and singing, off key, of course, go away.  I almost look forward to that moment when every last light of hope has died inside my heart so this hole in my heart can be taped or super glued or just plain back filled.   It isn't giving up, not really.  Not when you have no actual chance. 

I don't know why it won't just go away.  The feelings and desire to have a baby.  I don't know why I write about it.  Nobody cares. Maybe if I write about it, the feelings will go away?  Nothing is going to change my age and my old eggs but I guess this is the only place I can talk about it.  Everyone in my life just wants me to get over it and I try.  I try really hard to accept reality.  I try faking it. Fake it til you make it!   I try not to let my husband see my pain because he can't understand it. He never will understand the ache and the pain that is just there below the surface.  He has a child whom he adores with every beat of his heart.  I am happy and maybe just a bit jealous when I watch them together. I try not to be envious of girls who met their guy when it wasn't too late and who didn't have to try to get pregnant because it just happened.  I am happy for everyone who is pregnant and excited for them, don't get me wrong.  I try not read baby bump blog updates but when I do, I am always happy for the women who are experiencing all this joy.  

I would love to adopt. I don't need to have a baby, baby.  I think a two year old would be just about perfect.  I would love to be able to afford to adopt and then raise a child.  That isn't the reality I live with.  Adoption is expensive.   Adoption would cost about one third of my mortgage.   

Don't get me wrong, it isn't about pity.  I love my life, except for the child sized hole.  Sometimes I even think maybe me not being a mom is a good thing.  I won't have the chance to screw up or face the constant worry that comes with parenthood.  Sometimes I think I am too selfish to be a parent.  Sometimes I think...too much. 

                  Linking up with Texas Women Bloggers for Sweet Tea Social . 

Living without a child: learning to cry

I have covered this topic before but it is a hole in my heart that never seems like it will never be filled. Please forgive me and skip this blog if you want but sometimes I need to use this space to work things out, for me.

Before anyone calls me ungrateful, I am not.  I have a beautiful step-daughter who loves me and who I love and who is my friend but she has a mom and I am her friend and bonus parent.  I missed the baby years and the little kid years and now I have the Tweens and Teens to look forward to and I have embraced it and her. I will be there for her.

What annoys me is when I hear from people how I don't know what it is like to raise a child because I am childless.   How I don't know how hard a baby is to take care of day in and day out.   What people don't understand is that my mother and I were there with my brother when the triplets were born.  We were there helping take care of them all the time.  I gave up my life for almost two years for those girls.  I had no weekends. You think it's hard to raise one baby? Try three.  Have you ever bottle fed three at once because I have.  Have you ever had to calm three crying newborns all by yourself because I have. Have you taken care of babies on respirators, because I have.  Yet, somehow, still I don't qualify for knowing what it takes to be a parent. The kids don't need me now so I don't see them everyday. Well of course not, they are almost eleven. They have a life. I have a life.  They aren't my kids. 

I don't have kids and I never will. I don't need people to remind me of that. I missed my chance because I didn't marry the wrong person young and have a child with them.  For reasons that I can't go in to, it looks like adoption isn't available to me either.  So I cry.  I mourn the kids I wanted. I have a big hole in my heart, a child size hole that will never be filled and a lot of regrets. That's my truth. That's my life. That wasn't my choice.  What I do not need is anyone telling me I am wrong to want a child because I am too old. What I do not need is anyone telling me how much a child costs and how unrealistic I am.  

Maybe I am stupid.  I just always thought love would find a way.  I guess I was wrong in that too. Maybe I want to see God's plan where it isn't.  God isn't asking me to open my heart and my life.  Maybe I just wish He was.  Maybe I am naive to think a child that needs a home and a home that is availabe to a child is a good fit but maybe that isn't always the case.  Maybe I made a mistake. 

Not the Mama

Sometimes I write here to share funny stuff. Sometimes silly. Today this blog is just for me because I don't know how else to express this.

I have been cleaning my closet today. Nothing earth shattering really. Boxing up a bunch of stuff to either take to storage or donate. I came across a small white bag. A forgotten gift from my best friend. Something she wanted me to have years ago that I had saved and completely forgotten about. Three of her daughters favorite baby outfits. She wanted me to have them because she couldn't wait to see them on my little girl.

I pulled them out one by one and gently buttoned and folded them thinking of a child that was never to be as the tears rolled down my face. I tried to get a grip. I told myself there is a reason. God has a plan and He knows better. I tried to walk away but the cloths just sat there, Calling to me.

Finally, I called my best friend to talk. I told her that I had the cloths and I wanted to offer them back to her now as a keepsake for her now 18 year old baby. I cried. She reminded me this is all normal and a part of the grief process even though I don't really know why I am grieving. I have never lost a child. I have never been pregnant. I am nobodies mother. I never will be, I guess. It just wasn't meant to be. Being 43 and realizing you are just too old to try isn't a happy place. How do you say goodbye to the only thing you ever remember wanting to be?

I wish so often I could go back. Live over and do over just to have a baby but we don't get to do that. I see people with their kids and wonder if they know how lucky they are that someone calls them "Mom". The one thing I always wanted to hear. The one thing I never will hear. I wish I knew what it felt like to feel my baby kick or be big and miserable and pregnant. I wish I knew all those miracles that only parents get to experience.

Who knows? Maybe I am too selfish. Maybe my migraines would keep me from being a good mom. Maybe I don't have what it takes to be anything but a great aunt or a fun friend. I don't understand any of it. I just know it hurts and it makes me sad and I don't know how else to say it. I'm not the mama and I never will be.



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