There's been so much running around in my head, I simply needed a place to get it all down. Eventually I'd like to edit the page with a blog description, etc, but for now just getting to the computer to write this has taken months. It's the weight of the issue that has kept me down, and facing it deeper than the appointments and discussions with my husband and RE have been just enough for me to take until today.
Here is an email I sent to myself this week, after being told that we will yet again need to wait.
Subject: The Lies I Tell Myself To Feel Better About Being 30 and Childless
-I'll have way too much responsibility with a child - I do enjoy laying around and watching crap television with swears and searching Reddit and Pinterest whenever I want.
-I'll actually have to do all of that in between the blinds dusting that I get away with skipping now. I'm a relatively neat person; I enjoy cleaning...at times. However, as stated above, I also enjoy not having to do anything I don't want when I don't want to (unless of course it involves my dogs, in which case disregard all).
-Nutritious meals and snack will have to be provided, all day, every day and I will have to provide a good example with eating and nutrition (aka, no more cake for breakfast, no ice cream for dinner, Rice Krispy treats for lunch - shit, how I am not morbidly obese?).
-The online shopping, high end hair appointments and keeping up with facial wax will probably be gone or few and far between.
Then, I replied to myself the next day with one word "MONEY" - self explanatory, although I suppose it could be an add-on to online shopping, etc. The hub and I are my no means rolling in dough, but let's just say we get all of our bills paid on time and can make reasonable purchases without worrying. Nothing more American than consumerism to ease your pain.
As you can see, I try to see the best in things, ....which usually lasts about 5 minutes until I became my sarcastic, hateful self. Of course, even if I were the optimistic, "glass half-full" kind of gal the realization that none of the above mentioned things are better than the idea of a yummy smelling bundle of chubby baby goodness would hit quickly enough, as it always does, leaving me right back to square one of trying to convince myself to be happy and enjoy my life.