I was walking the dog in my usual cathedral, Ipod in my ears (that song Who Knew by Pink making me cry) and trying to sort through my anxiety. As is my curse, I start by looking backwards. A luxury of being middle class. I still felt the sting of losing my friend to cancer and the loss of my dear Sampson. I missed the laughter and wisdom of my girlfriend. I want to talk to her. I really wanted to have her antique rocking chair but could not bring myself to ask her miserable sister. I wanted it selfishly because it the last chair she sat in, the one that went with her from place to place. I wanted to feel her there when I rock a baby in my arms. I have no idea where it went. I’m still pissed that I didn’t get that memento of her to carry into my future.
I wondered where the time had gone – eaten up by that beast infertility. I struggled, I rallied more than a few times. Even enjoyed being childfree (I can hop on a plane just as soon as I get the dog kenneled). I can walk as fast as I want and watch daytime TV. I go for coffee and cake and speak uninterrupted on the phone. Sometimes people ask me what I’ve been up to this year and I feel a bit ashamed. I smile, mumble something. No new film coming up. I’ve been waiting. You know, up until July I think I was actually adjusting to a childless life and then we were matched and that bitch hope entered my life again. Up and down we went on the rollercoaster. Will I win, will I lose, and at what cost? Pun intended. All my talk of creating and I’ve nothing to show for it. Work wise I mean. It’s difficult to feel fulfilled when the artistic side of you is not working. Just typing. All finances have been directed to two things. Treating ourselves to relieve the anxiety of financing our adoption and well, the adoption. All in the midst of a recession and job insecurity.
I can see why Virginia Woolf needed a room of her own. How does a woman write, or accomplish something without having her concentration being continually broken with the demands of a dog that needs to be walked, food that has to be cooked, laundry that has to get cleaned, emails returned, floors swept, rugs vacuumed, husband’s phone calls and a demented mother to visit? You notice I didn’t mention children, right? My life was set, I’d made disappointment my friend and grey hairs my new enemy. Now I’m actively trying to figure out what my life will look like with an infant to get to know. I missed the first 9 months, so we’ll be starting from scratch. You know I’m not a morning person. I gotta have at least 1/2 cup of coffee. Mmm, need to learn how to use the automatic timer on the solo barista machine. Yeah, I the motherly type, but let’s face it, I’ve been mothering a dog for the past 9 years. And the only thing I’ve nursed is a hangover.
Oh, boy. I pop over to A&A’s blog to sneak a peek at a little black baby. Check. Still think they’re cute. That’s good news. Maternal feelings still there. Whew.
DH is back. Well, sort of. He was home for a bit, he walked the dog and then had to leave again for a business dinner. Tomorrow is another late day, we have mum over and then it’s Wednesday, I’m working all evening so I should be home in time to watch hubby snore in front of the TV. Sigh. Well, at least with a kid, I’ll have a legitimate reason for not having sex. Speaking of which the last time we TRIED to have sex, the dog practically pulled up a chair and stuck her rather long nose into our business. We laughed so hard it ruined the moment. I have to say she looked rather…. distraught.
Ah, at least we can still laugh together. Note to self, keep plenty of bones in the freezer. That way, we can ALL have a treat.
I got to learn not to take life so seriously.
A Woman My Age 