Expressing Some Rage

Because it’s 12:07 am here, and there’s no one I can call to get this out.

Chief is in New Orleans on the bachelor party with Arch Frenesis (who I’m going to call Archie for short, because AF certainly won’t do) and our dear friend the groom and three other guys. They got there at 3:30 pm. Other than some texting here and there which has mostly been initiated by Chief, I haven’t talked to him. He said he would call me each night. And I’m not upset that they’re out late-that’s what bachelor parties are all about. Late night partying. I trust Chief 210%. Infinity %. BUT. I have church in the morning, and Chief promised to call, so I didn’t want him to call at 2:00 am if that’s when they were going to head back to the hotel. So I texted him around 11:45 pm and just asked if he would be calling soon, because other wise I needed to head to bed soonish. I didn’t do it in a “you must call me now” sort of way, I did it in a “if you’re going to call, it should probably be now, otherwise we can talk tomorrow” sort of way. I didn’t want him to call for a chat at 2:00 am. THAT’S FUCKING ALL.

So anyway, Chief called a few minutes later because they were moving from a club to a bar. We talked for maybe three minutes before the groom got on the phone and said “You know I love you, but Archie is going to start giving Chief hell if you don’t get off the phone” and I hear Archie in the background going “you’re being a DRAG, librarian” and not in a fun way. Although honestly I hate him so much that if he was trying to be friendly I wouldn’t take it that way. So anyway Chief grabs the phone back and at this point I’m a little tearful because I’ve been alone all day, we’ve had flash flood warnings ALL DAY. Our basement room in our house floods on a regular basis when we have heavy rain so I was worried about dealing with that all by myself. I’ve been doing laundry, cleaning, present wrapping. I have not seen another soul. That is not anyone’s fault, but it contributed to my mood when these two people were telling me I couldn’t even talk to my husband four five minutes. My husband, who I don’t have a lot of experience being away from. So Chief grabs the phone back and I tell him that I’ll just talk to him tomorrow and he says “I’ll call you in the morning” and I said “not if those jack asses are going to give you shit about it” and he says “I can put them in their place” and I said “If Archie gives you ANY shit about this phone call you tell him that I said to

FUCK.

OFF.

And I’m emphasizing it that way because that’s how I said it. And I said it a few times. I know Chief won’t actually say it. I know he won’t, even if it’s coming from me. But goddamnit I hate that guy. He is such an ASS. NONE of these guys are married but Chief, and if it weren’t a bachelors party I would have told the groom to fuck off and that I would talk to my husband as much as I want. But it’s his party, and he’s my friend, so I didn’t.

But let’s get one thing straight:

I don’t give one flying FUCK about Archie. I care for his opinion less than anyone elses in this world. The only reason I am restraining myself from calling him and tearing him a new one is because of the bachelor party. Because of the groom. AND because Chief has to be with him all weekend.

And in the total four minute (yes, I checked my phone, four minutes was the total length of the call) conversation I got to have with Chief he said that him and Archie have been hanging out and joking around a lot. I HATE THAT. I’m not saying Chief has to snub him, but GOD. Why?! I don’t TRUST Archie. I don’t. He’s a terrible, terrible human being. I don’t want him around my husband.

I want my husband home. And I at least want to be able to talk to him for maybe a whole ten minutes a day when he’s not home. And I really, really want to call him back now and just say fuck those other guys, I’m going to get my last six minutes of conversation in. But I don’t want to be “that wife” who ruined the trip.

Let’s just say that this is not how I planned on spending the weekend before Christmas.

ALL the cookies

Is what I’ve eaten today. I’m honestly not that upset about it, because despite my crazy bad holiday eating habits I’m still losing weight. SHHHHH! Don’t let my body find out it’s doing it wrong! This cookie diet is working!

Ahem.

In all seriousness, I have been letting myself splurge a little bit more these last few days, but that’s because unlike on Monday, my overall eating has been healthy. I’m still eating a healthy lunch of fat free yogurt, a sandwich of PB2 and jam, no sugar added applesauce, an orange. I’m just tossing a few cookies into the mix here or there.

Cookies are good, but the last few days have been rough. Monday night I talked to my mom on the phone for a while and she’s really struggling. She got laid off the same week that I got promoted a few months ago (talk about bad timing) and it’s really got her down right now. She loves Christmas and she’s bummed that they’re so broke and she can’t find a job. I was barely able to get off the phone with her without crying, because at one point I said “Mom, I’m just so sad you’re not happy. Christmas is your favorite-I want you to be happy” and I guess she took that as selfishness on my part (and maybe it was) because she got really aggressive and said “Well how would YOU feel if this were you?” Anyway, I got off the phone and started doing the big gulping sobs with my face all screwed up. Chief handled it like a champ, especially since for once it wasn’t him that made it happen.

And I’ve been working my butt off at the law firm (which I LOVE) and then coming to my day job where half of the people are terrible and by the end of the day I’m just spent. Today I was at the law firm from 7:00 am to 11:00 am and I’ve been here at my “real” job since 11:00 am and won’t leave until 8:00 pm (a little less than two hours from now). And the kids at the neighborhood school are in final exams, so once they’re done with testing they all come over and act like maniacs. And someone called in sick today. And I couldn’t find time to take a lunch break (I just scarfed down food and went back to work). And I could go on and on.

But here is an important thing that happened today:

Bum

BUM

BAAAAAH!

(that was dramatic, scary, suspenseful music if you didn’t know)

My arch frenesis (like nemesis and frenemy all rolled into one? It sort of makes sense. Don’t think about it too hard) “friended” me on facebook today.

My arch frenesis and I have gone back and forth for the past 11 years on whether we are friends or enemies. We’ve even dated (were you picturing a girl? Because yeah, it’s a guy) and by dated I mean fooled around here and there. But ultimately he’s a big, self-centered, egomaniacal jackass. And he tends to think he knows everything. Even with all of that, we had managed to be “friendly” to one another for the last few years because we have mutual friends and it’s just easier that way.

And then.

AND THEN:

One of my best guy friends in the whole world (Chief’s too-he was the best man in our wedding) got engaged and picked arch frenesis as the best man and chief as a groomsman. In all of the flurry on facebook (as there is surrounding an engagement) I noticed that arch frenesis had defriended me but NOT chief! And chief and arch frenesis aren’t friends! Not at all! They’ve only met once or twice. So that was a slap in the face-I thought we were playing nice! So at that point I was done. DONE.

But this weekend Chief and Arch Frenesis and the other groomspeeps are taking the groom on a bachelor weekend to New Orleans, which they’ve been planning all year. And all of a sudden arch frenesis decides to friend me again? Ugh. I wanted to say no, but I didn’t for the sake of the groom. I love him like a brother and I’m super protective of him. Also, I don’t want to seem immature even though I totally feel like it. He’s a jerk. I have enough jerks in my life. And I’m just waiting for him to say something to me at the wedding about when we’ll be pregnant, because that’s the kind of thing he does. He started talking to me about when I was going to get “knocked up” as soon as we were married. If we were in any setting but my best friends wedding I would really dress him down for saying something, but I know I’ll have to behave.

Being a grown up is hard.

Growing and growing

Thank you, thank you for all of your sweet and kind words. That last post is one of the truest and most emotional I’ve ever put down. It was such a big part of me that apparently I had to disappear for a while. It showed a lot of personal growth that I didn’t realize was happening this summer, and today I’m going to tell you about some more.

 

I have decided to stop protecting assholes who ask me when I’m going to have a baby. And by protecting I mean I’m no longer going to say “Oh, you know, when the time is right” or, my personal favorite “We’re just enjoying spending time together and don’t want to rush into anything”.

I don’t know if my mellow menopause time is wearing off (who knew that would be the result of Lupron?) and I’m turning back into a human being or what, but this past weekend a really great friend of mine got married and there were various parties to attend in her honor. One of them was a stock the bar party on Thursday night and when I got there, this totally vile girl that I went to middle and high school with was there. She is 25 like me and already has two kids. The first one was a one night stand accident, the second she planned with her husband and it took her three whole months to get pregnant, so you know, she’s really struggled.

Anyway, the moment I saw that she was there I instantly wanted to leave. Besides her being a terrible person all the way through school (I can tell you stories, but that would be a digression from the truly heinous thing that she did at this party), she’s also one of those mothers who has to post exactly the right way to do things on FB. I mean, you just HAVE to have an all natural childbirth, and you HAVE to exclusively breast feed, and if you don’t have a midwife, well, clearly you are insane, and you know, if you don’t encapsulate your placenta then you’ll go crazy and murder people and stuff. I’m not saying that natural child birth, EBF, midwifes, and encapsulated placenta aren’t great. I would be just as annoyed if she was spouting the opposite side of things-because NO ONE has to do something like someone else. There is definitely a wrong way to do things, but having a c-section or an epidural is NOT wrong, using only doctors and not a midwife is NOT WRONG, using formula exclusively or mixing formula and breast feeding is NOT WRONG. That whole placenta thing is a personal choice. They’re all personal choices and no one, NO ONE needs to push people into things, especially on facebook. She is obsessed with her own point of view and with childbirth and getting pregnant. So needless to say, I dreaded seeing her. Dreaded it.

When I walked in she was already talking about her natural childbirth. She was drinking a white russian and announced to the bar that she would be “pumping and dumping” to which I wanted to say “NO ONE ASKED”. Then she went on to say that her next baby would be born at home in the bath tub. Again, I’m not trying to sound judgey. I don’t CARE how people have their children as long as it’s safe and everyone turns out okay, but at someone else’s WEDDING party we really don’t need to hear you shouting about placenta and PH test strips for breast milk.

And then, as I knew would happen, she turned to me and my husband and YELLED across the room full of my friends from high school, “So, when are YOU TWO going to get pregnant?!”

And guys, something in me sort of snapped at that point. I could have handled it the way I always do, but I said fuck no to that. She’s going to try and butt into our personal life? Well she’s going to get an earful. So I responded in this manner:

“Actually, we’ve been trying for almost two years. I have endometriosis and PCOS and had surgery this year. We don’t really know what our prognosis is, but it’s a pretty painful and emotional situation we’ve been having to deal with. We have hopes for the future, but are tempering them with the reality that it just might not happen for us.”

 

I didn’t say it in an angry way, or a sad way. Just a realistic, here’s what’s happening sort of way. And she basically shrugged, looked really embarrassed at her behavior, and turned away to talk to someone else. One of my friends who is a kind and caring person said, “Oh my, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were going through that” to which I responded, “Well, it’s pretty hard to tell everyone about it. No one wants to have to admit that they have a broken uterus” to which the terrible awful girl then turned around and said “Well, MY uterus certainly isn’t broken!”

I. AM. NOT. SHITTING. YOU.

My husband squeezed my arm and gave me a look that said “If I don’t walk out of this room right now I WILL punch her in the face”, so I patted him on the back and told him to get some air. I stayed and talked with the nice person who was HORRIFIED on my behalf. HORRIFIED. I was mad, I won’t shit you. But something I’m learning is that we can only control our own behavior, and you know what? I behaved like a fucking queen that night. I was gracious, and honest, and I’m not afraid to pat myself on the back for it. So there is your dose of personal growth for the week. I encourage all of you to do the same to those who might attack you for your uterine deficiencies, because it feels really good to see the smug look on their face be replaced with embarrasment. And all the shit we go through DOES  make us stronger than the average woman, so I’m done being ashamed of it. We are survivors just like anyone else. Don’t any of you EVER forget it.

An Emotional Fathers Day

I woke up on Father’s Day and knew it was going to be rough. We’ve gotten so much bad news lately. The parent centered days are never easy for those of us who may never be parents.

I woke up and cried and told Chief I was sorry that I couldn’t give him what he deserved. And he said that as long as he had me that was more than he deserved. And then I cried some more.

Then we went to fathers day lunch with my pawpaw at my Aunt’s house (let’s call her Aunt 1, for I have two Aunt’s on my mothers side and they are both relevant to this story). I didn’t feel very well-I’d been having some pain, but I took a Vicodin and pushed through. At lunch my cousin Paul (who is sterile from a bought of testicular cancer, and considered too old for adoption) made a comment about “…and when you have kids…” I took that opportunity to share with him about my procedure and what we’ve been going through this past year. He had already known some of it because I had told his wife a while back, but I knew I was going to have to tell my whole family (we’re freakishly close on my mom’s side) so I figured I’d start with him. He was incredibly kind, so of course I cried (just a little-not noticable to anyone but my mom I think).

Then Aunt 1 and Aunt 2 were fussing in the kitchen about making a care package for gramma and pawpaw to take home and I told my mom I wanted to go ahead and tell them. I kept saying, apparently too quietly, “hey guys…” or “excuse me….” or “I have something to tell you…” but they just fussed and fussed. Finally my mom said, “Hey guys, [librarian] has something to tell you.”

They both instantly stopped fussing and looked at me. And I started to cry. Then they both started fussing over me and I choked out what I had to say and my mom, her two sisters and I sat in the kitchen while everyone else watched golf and cried.

You see, I’m the last granddaughter. I have a sister and a cousin. My sister didn’t want kids, but she also had major ovarian cysts and had 1 and 3/4 ovaries removed and her tubes tied as a preventative measure. My cousin wanted kids, but her husband is sterile and almost fifty, and apparently in our state that’s too old to adopt. And then there’s me.

So that was Father’s Day. I had dinner with my dad that night and my sister who I despise. Luckily my sister invited a bunch of her friends so she was distracted from bothering me too much.

Then I got a stomach virus that I’m still getting over. And this lady I work with who KNOWS that we’ve had all these problems and that I’m about to have surgery says “maybe you’re pregnant…” and I start breathing fire and talking in Parseltongue because I feel so consumed by evil by that comment. Because, yes, before I came back down to earth and remembered that I dont ovulate and I just had a nearly two week long period, I thought maybe I could be too. Then I remembered reality.

I’ll get back to the book challenge on my next post. I just needed to get this out.