Wow, I Needed That

I've been so tired lately. For the past two weeks, utterly exhausted. I know it's because I was pushing myself at the gym, but also because it's been so busy at work. Mentally exhausted and physically exhausted.

So for the past two weeks, I have been doing the gym every other night. But I haven't been killing myself. And the scale hasn't been unkind to me about it, either.

Tonight, I felt better. Was actually excited about going to the gym. I hadn't run in almost two weeks, but tonight, I knew it was time to start again, before I lost my momentum.

And I picked up right where I left off. Week 2 of the couch to 5k plan -- 90 seconds of running, two minutes of walking. And I felt great after wards. Even did some hills for 10 minutes and then 10 minutes of the cross-trainer.

It helps knowing that I don't have to be at work again until Tuesday, but the running actually felt easier. I remember the last time I ran, Adam was with me. And he had to run the intervals with me. I could barely run the last few intervals of 60 seconds. I needed him to push me. Not tonight. I was able to push myself.

~~~~~

I heard from J last night. He was at a gala in DC. We texted back and forth for a little while and then he wrote, "May have to bother you later. U gonna be up?"

Sigh. He did just send me two autographed items. "Maybe. the phone will wake me up."

A few hours later, at 1am, he texted. It started off innocent enough but I knew where it was headed. Or better yet, I knew where he wanted it to head. "What are you wearing?"

How to answer. "A Jeter t-shirt"

"Nice."

"I'll leave you with that image ;) I need to go back to sleep"

And that was that. There were some niceties about having a good night, good weekend, etc. But I think I handled him well.

I hate asking for help

I'm the person who organizes the fundraisers. Who delivers meals or drives friends to the doctor. Who checks on the cats and picks up mail, and leaves baked good when you arrive home from your trip. I send funny little cards for no reason.

But in the past few years, I've had to ask for help. I've needed people to go to the doctor with me, to stop at the store and bring some ice cream when I needed cheering up. But just because I've had to ask for help, doesn't mean that I like it.

I don't. I haven't. But I need to ask for help again. And I need people to not wait for me to ask for help. Over the course of the next year and a half, I will need people to remind me that 18 months really isn't that long. I will need people to understand that sometimes, still, seeing a baby hurts. That sometimes, I don't want to hear about your child, niece or nephew, grandchild -- all of the above. And sometimes, I will want to hear about every little thing they are doing. And I just need you to follow my cues.

And I need help with the raffle. Selling tickets, keeping me motivated, even when I feel like giving up. Even when I'm feeling humbled beyond words at needing to ask for help.

It won't be every day. It won't be every week. But it'll be. It'll happen. And that's when I'll need you.

72 Weeks

Or maybe 76.

That's my estimated wait time. Officially, it's a 12- to 18-month estimate. But the latest reports are that families getting a baby 0-12 months are now waiting 19 months; a baby 12-24, the wait is 18 months. My immigration approval is approved for a baby 0-24 months.

But the good news is....I'm officially on the list. All paperwork is in. Here we go, the longest year and a half of my life.

Three Weeks and One Day

That's all it took for my "up to 90 days" approval.

Yesterday, I received my notice from the Department of Homeland Security: "Notice of Favorable Determination Concerning Application For Advice Processing of Orphan Petition."

And so, as long as everything in my dossier looks good, I am ready to go on the waiting list. And I'm only 12 to 18 months from learning who my baby will be!

And I have to apologize in advance for adding advertisements to the blog, but every little penny will help -- and I've heard from other friends who have turned ads on through blogger that it really isn't a lot that they get. But returning soda cans for the deposit is only a few bucks every month, and over the next year or so, it will add up.

I figured out my budget this morning, and *think* I will be able to save about $10,000 towards what I have left to pay for the adoption. If that's the case, between grants and the raffle (and ads and bottle deposits and this summer's garage sale and saving pennies in the bottom of my purse), I need to come up with about $8,000.

If I can do that, no loans, no debt when I bring my baby home. So forgive me for the ads at the bottom of the post -- and if you feel inclined, click on it and support my "sponsors." ;)

Babies, babies and more babies

A friend in Rochester is due with her third boy this month.

A friend from work had a baby girl on my birthday last month.

Another friend from work goes on maternity leave tomorrow.

And two friends (one from high school, another from Baltimore) both announced on FB today the sex of their babies due this fall -- a boy for one, a girl for the other.

And that is my life. And I almost started to feel sorry for myself, and then got an email from a friend who is also adopting from Ethiopia, and just awaiting her travel dates. She was writing to see where things are with me.

I told her my dossier was mailed into the placement agency (yeah!) and I am three weeks into my "up to 90 days" wait for USCIS approval. Once I get that, it's an estimated 12 to 18 months until referral.

Her response was perfect, and just what I needed: "You are almost done with your job....and that's a good feeling."

And she's right. I am almost done with my job. Then it's waiting, and preparing, and taking care of me, so that when the baby arrives, I can do nothing but take care of him (or her).

And so, this weekend I will continue to work on the marketing plan for the fund-raising raffle, create a website and graphic element for the website and my "adoption fund," and work on the adoption grant applications.

It will also be about sleeping in, lounging around, going to the gym, going grocery shopping, and just taking it easy. Taking care of me.

Because Jo is right, I am almost done with my job, and it is a good feeling.

PS....about to finish "week 1" of couch to 5K tomorrow. I increased my running speed a little and my form felt better, so last day of 60 seconds running, 90 seconds walking tomorrow.

Thank you

I was exhausted at the end of the day. I had three meetings, including two interviews for two open positions. I had to deal with the office bitch in two of them. Had to watch her roll her eyes in the back of her head, fluttering her eyes, while she spoke. Had to deal with her being hostile and even more bitchy than usual in the last meeting because it was interviewing a candidate for a position that she applied for. Okay, that wasn't hard to watch, but still. You get my point, it was a long day.

I headed up to the gym right from my last meeting, and as soon as I got on the treadmill, my legs felt heavy. And tired. And I thought, I could just walk today. Maybe do hills. But no, I have a readership to answer to. Especially after what I wrote last night.

And so, I did 60 seconds of running and 90 seconds of walking for 20 minutes. Day 3 of week 1. I will continue week 1 all this week. Like I said, it might be longer than the 9 weeks of the training program.

But knowing I had people to answer to, not just myself, I didn't give in. I didn't throw in the towel. So thank you, you know who you are, those of you who check in every few days or once a week, to read about my life.

Weekend Update

I remembered my actual "couch to 5K" training instructions for Friday and stuck to them -- 60 seconds of running, 90 seconds of walking, for 20 minutes. I was dying by the end of the 20 minutes, but I finished. It may be that "week 1" stretches into two weeks. I'm fully prepared to take longer than the suggested 9 weeks of the program.

That night, I had a dream where I was running. Not for my life, not away from anything, but actually running for fun, running for recreation, running in some organized event. I ran past people I knew, neighborhoods I've lived in that aren't in the same zip code. Jogged in place as I stopped to briefly chat with old friends.

It wasn't hard. I felt good. And so I know that I can get to that place. I may never run a marathon, but soon I'll be able to run more than 60 seconds at a time. If I can go through what I've gone through the past three years, I can run for several minutes (and someday, several miles) at a time.

Yesterday I went to the gym that I've joined for the summer. Also felt really good. Still at the point where 60 minutes is enough. And that, is a good thing.

I'm still trying to wrap my mind around a visit I had last week with a friend. Parts of it were great, other parts disturbing. And while I have to remind myself that we are of two different generations, of two different political parties, I still need to think about how to handle future conversations with her. When we parted ways, she did ease my mind a little, by telling me that no matter where I adopt from, she will support me.

Today is Mother's Day, and I wasn't as sad as I usually am. In fact, I don't think I was sad at all. I had my volunteer shift at the Catholic Shop at church this morning, and then my parents came down for lunch. I wished a fellow parishioner a happy mother's day, and she asked if I had any children. And I smiled when I answered her. "Not yet, but I'm in the process of adopting."

And I borrowed Heather's FB status for my own: "Happy Mother's Day to all my mommy friends -- those with their babies in their arms, babies in their bellies on the way, and babies waiting across the world to meet them!"

Bubbles responded with: "Your Mommy's Day will come very soon my dearest friend! In the meantime you are such a "mom" to so many of us..." And my oldest niece with an immediate "Amen."

I have a busy week at work -- tomorrow the easiest of them, with only four hours of meetings. I just need to get through the next two weeks at work, and then (I think), I'll be okay.

MILF in Training, Day One

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Deadlines

I work best when I know I have to have something done by a certain date. At work, if there's an open-ended project, it gets pushed aside. In life, it works the same way.

Four years ago, I received a save-the-date for a wedding for six months later. I saw the finish line and lost 50 pounds.

And so, my friend April proposed training for a 5K in the fall. I've actually had the "couch to 5K" training schedule on my fridge for a few weeks. I've done nothing with them, because, there was nothing to shoot for. But now, now there's a goal. There's a finish line.

So tomorrow.....alternating 90 seconds of running and walking.

Biometrics

Friday morning I drove up the Syracuse, to the Immigration & Naturalization Office to get my fingerprints scanned. Hopefully the FBI accepts them (I've had problems in the past with my rolled fingerprints - my ridges aren't very deep).

If they don't accept them, they will send a letter out a letter this week and I'll go back to Syracuse. If they're accepted, my background check moves forward. The last piece of the process.

I still need Bubbles' reference letter -- I forgot to get an original signed copy when I was in Baltimore last week. And after my trip next weekend, I will schedule a time for my friend at work to go with me to the doctor's office to get my medical form signed and notarized.

I found a website that will be a good model to follow for my fund-raiser. I need to pull my "team" together to figure out the logistics. I'm trying not to think about how length I still have to wait.

I guess one thing at a time.

Art Imitating Life (or life's dreams)

"Watch, you're going to get pregnant and then meet the man of your dreams."

I can't tell you how many people said that to me over the course of the last three years. Little did I know that a. it would not happen, and b. they would make a movie about it.



This is one movie I will NOT be seeing. I'm a masochist in a lot of way, but not this one. Not this time.

Reinventing Ellie

I just read through a blog post from four years ago, about gaining weight over Christmas. That was before the neurosis about exercising and eating got the best of me, before I took a break from blog.

It was good to get back in that frame of mind, when I really thought about what I put in my mouth and how much I moved during the day. I'm getting back to that point. I (perhaps foolishly) started an actual diet this week. I hate that word, I hate the negative connotation associated with it. I prefer healthy food choices. Healthy lifestyle changes.

But this week, to get me back into that frame of mind, to get me motivated right off the bat, I started what is called "the four-day diet."

It was restrictive, it was hard. I know I wasn't eating enough calories for how much I was working out, but at the end of the first four days, I'm down six pounds. It was enough to make me aware of when I reached for food when I wasn't hungry, it was enough to help me keep track of portions. It made me make a conscious effort to include vegetables every day.

And the six pounds -- mostly water weight I know -- were enough. I got a new middle number. I will follow the next four days, and after that, I will use the following sets of four days as a guidepost, but I know I need more calories. I know given my typical 45-60 minutes of cardio plus resistance training, I need to eat more.

My vow, after the next four-day cycle, is to only weigh myself once a week. (I've already gotten into the habit of once or twice a day -- bad Ellie!) To work out five days a week -- without fail, even if some days are not as high intensity as others.

I took a picture of myself in my skivvies the other day. And I have pictures from my birthday weekend in Baltimore. Both will serve as guide posts. And just like celebrities who endorse a weight-loss product, I will post the before picture, but only after I have a good "during" picture to go next to it. And that will -- eventually -- go for my actual weight. Once I've lost an amount I feel comfortable with, I will post that too.

If for nothing else, but to keep me honest. To keep me going.

And the rest of Baltimore

Friday evening was low-key, gearing up for spa day and going out the next day. I jumped on FB to send J an email -- he wanted my address so he can send me a couple of autographed items he has for me. And then I noticed that we're not friends anymore. Interesting.

First I was pissed, and then I laughed. I was friends with him about a month ago when I posted on his wall that I was sorry I missed his phone call the night before. He removed it, and then must have unfriended me. HA! It actually made my day.

Saturday was a fabulously girly day -- manicure, pedicure, lunch, a little shopping (including a LaPurla bra for moi), back to the spa for massage and facial. Then a shower, make-up, dressing, and out to dinner at the Capital Grille.

I can't even describe how delicious the food was (12-year-aged balsamic vinegar over fresh mozzarella!) or how great the service was. At one point, Bubbles looked at me and said, "that guy's checking you out."

I looked over a mid-50-year-old sitting with his wife and another couple, and caught him looking. I smiled over my beer glass. Several times throughout the night, we made eye contact.

Really? Even without trying, without talking, without flirting -- the married man magnet works? After they were finished the wives headed to the bar while the men waited for the bill, and sure enough, he came over. "Hello ladies, special occasion?"

Bubbles immediately said, "it's her birthday!"

He took my hand in both of his and wished me a happy birthday.

I shook my head when he left. Perhaps it was the two large bottles of beer I had consumed, the nostalgia of being in Baltimore, or the fact that I was suddenly 40, I looked at Bubbles and said, "he wasn't ugly, he was fairly attractive, why can't I find a guy like that? A single guy. I have no problem with the age thing...is it really that hard?"

She patted my hand -- there were no words.

We headed to a bar after dinner, and now I know -- or remember -- why I don't go to bars anymore. It was crowded, people were obnoxiously drunk and bumping into me. Guys were hitting on Bubbles left and right. I was ready to go after an hour. But the night was still young. So as we were walking to the car, Bubbles said one word. "Boobies?"

I looked at her and smiled. "Boobies." We headed off the Hustler Club for a late-night drink and a little debouchery. New beer in one hand, fistful of ones in the other, we settled down near a stage and clanked our bottles to my 40th birthday and enjoyed the looks on the men's faces as they wished their girlfriends/wives were as cool as we are.

From a long day, a filling dinner, and just being over tired, even after three shots, I wasn't drunk. I think I was beyond it. We closed the Club. I can't remember the last time I was out at 2:00am, but here I was.

I had to drive home the next day, but was so grateful that I took Monday off. It made the five-hour drive that much more tolerable.

And so I turned 40 -- though no one we told over the course of the weekend believed me. Even the esthetician put my skin at 29 to 32. Thank God for good genes and sunscreen.

I turned 40, and while I may not want to stay out all night, I know I still can. And while the men who frequent bars have no use for me, still the older man is still wanting some of Ellie. Again, if only that older gentleman weren't married. I guess one thing at a time, right?

The fact that I have a positive attitude about all this is amazing. I'm not going to over-analyze or wonder why.

Here's to my first week in my 40s.

Being 40 Makes Me Wiser

I'm in Baltimore for a birthday bonanza weekend. The 40s started out great and made me realize that with friends like these, I don't need no sitnkin' man (okay maybe I still do for some things).

My staff threw me a surprise birthday party during the day -- party disguised as a budget meeting. And then what I thought was going to be just a couple girlfriends turned into a whole group taking me out to dinner. And Bubbles contacted them all to let them know what spa we would be going to over the weekend and I got more than $100 in gift certificates to put toward spa day.

Thursday I headed to Baltimore to see a high school friend and then T & S and my god-daughters. I had each block of day planned perfectly -- seeing all my Howard County friends while I was on that side of town, including breakfast with J. Well, planned breakfast. We all know how it will turn out.

And true to form, on my birthday he texted to see if instead of breakfast, we could meet for drinks on Friday. I told him yes, but that I would be in Mt. Washington by then. He said, no problem, will text you then.

Thursday, as I was pulling into Laurel to see previously mentioned high school friend, he texted to see if we could meet in Columbia. We went back and forth, me giving him my entire itinerary, and basically showing him (without spelling it out) that it would be ridiculous for me to from Howard County on Friday morning, downtown the museum, to Lutherville to meet a friend, and back to Howard County to meet him, and then back to Mount Washington to stay with Bubbles. Was there someplace in the middle?

He texted back, how about Catonsville? I finally had to spell it out to him. It was stupid and selfish of him to expect me to do that. It wasn't the 25 or so miles each way, it was that it involved Friday afternoon Baltimore beltway traffic. Each way!

And for him to suggest Catonsville as the middle! The hard part would be over. I'd be done with the beltway, I might as well have met him in Columbia. I told him that it wouldn't work.

And so, for the first time, in a long time, I said no to J. And it felt good. No walking all over me. No one-sided friendship. I would have done that drive for any number of friends -- mostly because I know that they wouldn't have expected me to. He expected it. Like it's some sort of right, that I have nothing better to do than to drive to him.

Not this time. Not anymore.

And so halfway into my Baltimore weekend, I'm feeling good. I'm feeling wise. Not old.

This Time Last Year

Happy birthday (almost) to me. I like to think of my birthday as my New Year's. It's a time to be reflective, it's a time to think about the last year, and a time to think about the coming year and all I want to accomplish.

Same as last year -- I've spent the past year focusing on trying to get pregnant. And same as last year -- I will spend the next year focusing on much of the same. Although the difference is, by the time my 40th birthday rolls around, I will know one way or another....I will have a baby of my own, or I will be working on adopting.

And by the time my 40th birthday rolls around (unless I've just given birth in the past few months), I want to be back in my skinny clothes. I want to get rid of this pudgy stomach and muffin top. I want to look the way I used to in a pair of jeans.

And I hope that by the time my 40th birthday rolls around, I will be happy turning 40, that I will accept 40 with grace, honor and happiness.

Having accomplished at least one of the goals above will go a long way in helping me meet 40 with these virtues.

I wrote that a year ago tonight. I do not have a baby of my own. I don't have that reflection I want when I'm wearing a pair of jeans. I still have the pudgy stomach and muffin top. But I do know that I'm adopting. I do know that in less than two years, I will have a baby.

I don't just know it in my heart, but I know it. I've got an expanding file folder of paperwork, bank statements and credit card receipts to remind me. I got my passport the other day and today I received my appointment notice with Homeland Security for finger printing.

And so on the eve of my 40th birthday, I can only look forward. I can't look back at what could have been. At what should have been. I remember what FG said at the one support group meeting I went to. "None of us is promised anything."

I will spend tomorrow evening with some of my best friends in town. And on Thursday, I will head to Baltimore for the weekend and some of my best friends ever. A high school friend. Museum friends. A Rochester friend. And Bubbles!

And on Monday, I start the new me. I start my "MILF training." :) I begin working out and watching everything I eat. And weighing myself and weighing my food. And watching out that I don't become the person I became four years on the inside, but working my ass off (literally) to become the person I became on the outside.

Happy birthday to me. I won't let 40 get me down. I will own it. I will embrace it. There are only good things to come.

Sometimes my friends just over-whelm and humble me beyond words

From Bubbles, for my dossier....

To whom it may concern:

I am writing on behalf of Ellie Lincoln, my closest friend of nearly 10 years. I met Ellie when I began educational consulting work at her institution. I immediately respected her as a professional and we soon became friends. Although we now live several hundred miles apart, our friendship is still very vibrant and strong. We speak several times a week, she responds to my emails promptly, and we travel to visit each other several times a year. She never misses a special event, or a chance to support me in difficult times. I have come to depend on her strength and wisdom in my life. This commitment to those around her speaks to the heart of Ellie’s desire to be a mother.

Throughout the years I’ve observed her devotion to those she loves, family and friends alike. This unwavering selflessness and sincere care for others will make her the most devoted mother, especially to a child that is adopted. While she has tried to have a child of her own, she never discounted the idea of adoption, and made it clear that the opportunity to raise and love a child is the ultimate blessing, no matter how it came into her life. She truly longs for the chance to provide love and care for a child.

She’s met with other parents who’ve adopted and she’s well read on the challenges facing adoption of ethnic children by American families. I can assure you that a child placed with her will always be loved, respected, and nurtured. Her single and sole priority will be her child. Ellie is also surrounded by a strong and supportive group of family and friends, her child would have a large group of people who would also be there to support and nurture them. This child would be so special to so many people, myself included.

I feel privileged to have been able to be a part of Ellie’s journey to parenthood. It has been a very difficult journey for her, but her commitment has been steadfast. Her faithfulness in this endeavor has been inspiring for me. She has overcome so much to be a mother, and I am hopeful that there is a child out there, meant to be a part of her life.

Thank you for this opportunity to speak on behalf of my beloved friend.

Sincerely,
Bubbles

An Officer but Maybe Not a Gentleman

I haven't heard from Chris since Las Vegas. That was the end of October. The day the Yankees won the pennant. The day I got my second tattoo. Before I become the interim director at my job. Before I tried to carry an embryo created with another woman's egg.

I haven't heard from Chris, and honestly, I haven't wanted to. That's not to say I haven't thought about him every now and then. I have. Clearly I have, or I wouldn't be writing this.

But I've thought about him in the way that I let that Friday night in Vegas seep into my thoughts as I fall asleep. I thought about him when I thought about Opening Day, and how we always talked baseball. And I've thought about how I haven't heard from him.

Something must have finally gotten to him. Something must have finally spooked him straight. I always let him be in control of our relationship -- and that is to say, he was the one with the risks, he was the one with something to lose, I was just having fun.

And so he was the one who (almost) always called. He was the one who would take a break for a few months and then suddenly appear out of the blue with his cocky "hey there" on the other end of the phone. He was the one who always initiated.

I hope he's happy. I hope he doesn't regret me in his life. And if he does regret me, I hope he can see the responsibility he owns in that.

I will probably always think about him. Funny enough, I don't miss him.

My Adoption Statement

I mailed the paperwork to immigration on Saturday -- and from my tracking slip, I know it arrived yesterday. The "up to 90 days" wait begins.

I went to the Sheriff's office on Friday and got my letter. It was easy. I handed over my license. Less than 10 minutes and $10 later, I had my form.

I received my state certified form today.

Just waiting on Bubbles' letter of recommendation and having to take a colleague with me to the doctor's office to get that form notarized (by someone whose commission doesn't expire this year).

The final piece, though it's done and only needs to be notarized, is my adoption statement. It reads:

I knew from my mid-teenage years that I wanted to be a mother. Pregnancy and adoption were both options for me—it didn’t matter how I got there, just that I achieved my dream to be a mom.

I had hoped to fall in love and get married, but that hasn’t happened for me. It’s something that I’ve accepted, but I cannot accept not becoming a mother. I have so much love to give a child.

In April 2007, I began researching adoption. I was drawn to Ethiopia for a number of reasons.
• I have a great respect for the culture, history, and traditions of the country and look forward to teaching my child about his birth country. I plan to incorporate Ethiopian holidays as part of our traditions. While I once tried to have the Christmas tree down before the first of the year, it will stay up so that we can include it in our celebration of Genna on January 7 with traditional games and food.
• One of my dearest friends adopted a little boy from Ethiopia in 2006. I lived the journey vicariously through her and was overjoyed when she brought Robbie home. I look forward to raising my child, with my friend as my mentor, and for Robbie to be a “big brother” to my child.
• The possibility of being able to meet and connect with the birth family is a very powerful opportunity for me. I would welcome the chance to thank the birth family and to assure them of my love for and devotion to their child—our child. It will be such an important moment and one that I will share later with my child. That connection will continue as I send photos and updates to the birth family. It’s a gift that not all adoptive families are able to experience.

I have a book that contains basic Amharic words and phrases. Just as I will teach my child colors and numbers in English, we will also learn in Amharic. I hope that eventually my child and I can travel back to Ethiopia so that we can experience the country together.

My extended family and friends, who have been a great support system throughout my journey to becoming a mother, are already embracing the new traditions that will be brought to our large holiday gatherings. As one friend said to me, “It’s so amazing how small the world truly is. Your family will make it that much smaller and more connected.”

I’m lucky to live in a very diverse city that has both a major university and a mid-sized college. Each of these institutions has international students and cultural clubs and organizations that sponsor public events and activities that we will attend. There are also a number of people in the city who are of Ethiopian heritage, including two professors who work with me.

In addition to the families of Ethiopian heritage, there are many local and regional families who have adopted children from Ethiopia. I have joined the network of these families and hope to organize annual get-togethers, where we can bring our families together and our children can connect with each other.

My home is located about ten minutes south of Ithaca. It is a two-floor, two-bedroom townhouse. My child will have his own room with a window that overlooks a large yard and acres of woods. At any given moment, he will be able to see many varieties of birds, as well as deer and wild turkey.

I hope I can live up to the dreams the birth mother has for her child. I can’t thank her enough for her unselfishness in allowing me to raise her child—to be a mother. She is not only giving her child a better life; she is also giving me a better life.

Into the Home Stretch

I'm still waiting for my home study copies -- Renee said she mailed them out on Tuesday. I should have had them today, hopefully tomorrow and then I can mail my immigration forms out.

My boss gave me his letter confirming my employment, years of service and pay. I got my birth certificate in the mail the other day. I finished my adoption statement. I received one of the two reference letters (specific to Ethiopia) yesterday.

I'm going to the Sheriff's office tomorrow. I still need to call the doctor's office. And I'm awaiting the state certified form to come back from Albany.

I'm still in good shape to be down with all I can do before I turn 40 on the 13th (or go to Baltimore on the 15th).

It will be interesting how I handle the waiting game. Right now, I have tasks. I have excel spread sheets. I have an expandable folder. I have things that I'm needing to get done. Once everything is mailed out, what will I do. What will I focus on?

I'm not a patient person. Three years of fertility treatment didn't really help that. I'll have to do my best. Enjoy the summer. Enjoy my friends. Take some road trips. Save money. And continue to work out like a machine.

The Blame Game

It seems like a day cannot go by without an announcement from someone that they are either pregnant or have given birth. Every single day. And I'm not exaggerating. I have a moment of angst, of pity, of sadness....and then I do what I do. I smile, I send a note of congratulations, ask when the due date is or when can I see a picture of the little bundle.

And life goes on. And this happens or that happens. And some random happening brings my niece to the conversation....and I feel resentful.

This morning, sometime between dreaming and being fully awake, I realized that I am taking out all of my resentment for pregnant people on her. I am taking out my hurt feelings for lack of support from my family on her. Unfairly, I readily admit. But I am directing it all to her.

Because of the way she handled her wedding.

Because of the way she reacted when I told her that if I got pregnant next month, I would have a baby for her wedding ("you better not steal my thunder").

Because of the way she told me she was pregnant.

Because of the way I specifically reached out to all my siblings and my older nieces, to let them know I was trying to get pregnant. That I was telling everyone early because I wanted, and might need, their support. And then never heard another word from the majority of them.

Because of the way the majority of them never sent me a note or reached out with their sympathies when I lost the only pregnancy I had.

And she is the symbol of it all. She is where I direct my anger and resentment.