Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
I am so disappointed in myself. And so jealous of her. We are the same age. We both graduated from high school the same year, went to college and both have a bachelor's degree. She makes $50,000 a year and I make $14.00 an hour. I feel like a failure. That should be me. I'm just as smart, just as capable as her. The difference? I have 2 kids. The position she was given over me requires her to travel 75% of the time. I am not in a position to do that because of my children. I cannot be away from home for extended periods of time and overnight. I love my children so much...so why do I resent them and feel like they are holding me back from a promotion? When I see her in the office (she has an office with a door and I work FOR her from a cubicle), I feel insufficient. I doubt myself. She is going on to get her master's. I can barely afford $200 a week in daycare, I can't even consider going back to school. She immediately got a job in her field of study after college and has 7+ years experience. Me? I worked at a zoo, then for a graphics company, then I had a baby and another baby. Now that I actually have a job relevant to my degree I have zero experience. If I hadn't married young, if I hadn't started a family so soon, if I had chosen a career path and stuck to it - I could be where she is. My husband has a good job, but does not even have a college education and he makes $20 an hour. My self esteem is in the toilet. I know I can't compare the joy of having two beautiful, healthy children to having a career, but I will be fully honest and say I wish I was where she is instead of where I am. And I get even more depressed about feeling that way.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
48 hours from now (6/25/08) I will be broken. Beaten down, heartbroken, aching, longing, destroyed. Just for that day.
It will be your birthday. Your first birthday. I never got to meet you, but I knew you. You grew inside of me. I felt you there before I even knew for sure I was pregnant. I say, "before I knew", but I knew. I knew you were there long before I even missed my period. If I'm honest, I think I knew you were there the second you were conceived. I can't explain why, or how, but I knew. I think your father knew too. We hardly talked about it, and I haven't spoken to him in months, so I certainly can't ask him now. He doesn't understand (no one seems to) why I feel the way I do. Why I miss you, why I mourn for you.
Aside from how things ended with him and I, you were conceived in love. In the greatest love I have ever known. The kind that awakens your soul, makes you feel invincible, makes everything seem brighter and more alive. That is why it hurts so bad. You were a piece of that love that I could keep with me.
But you left me. And the only way I could describe it to him is that I feel like a failure. I feel like I failed at being a woman. We are given this incredible gift to carry life inside of us and introduce it to the world. And I couldn't do it. He pointed out, "You've done it before". At the time (and still at times), that doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that I was able to do it before. That I have a beautiful daughter. What matters is that I couldn't do it that second time.
It took a long time after you left to get back on my feet. To not walk around with this huge hole inside of me. Feeling empty and betrayed (by who, or what, I don't know). It took a long time to stop rubbing my belly, pretending I could feel you. To be honest, I still do. To make matters worse, two of my neighbors got pregnant around the same time as I did. I couldn't look at them or speak to them without choking up. I'd stare at their bellies in amazement. Thinking, "That's what I'd look like now." Now that the babies are here, it hurts to look at them. Because all I see is you. What you would have been.
I still look at photos of your sister when she was a baby. And imagine you at that age. If you would have been anything like her, you'd already be walking like a champ. Getting into anything and everything. Lighting up my life. Your sister constantly tells me she wants a baby sister. She has no idea how deeply those words wound me.
I can't talk to anyone about it. I hear the same old things: It wasn't meant to be; These things happen for a reason; You'll have another baby again someday; Mother Nature knows best. Fuck Mother Nature. Also, I don't want ANOTHER baby. I want YOU. I want you back. I know that's not possible. I know it. Just like it's not possible to have your father back. But I want it all the same. I want to know WHY. I'm tired of doctors telling me "It's not your fault. Nothing you did caused this." I don't believe it. It was MY body. My body that rejected you. Not my heart, but my body. That is something I did.
I'll be thinking about you on Wednesday. Not that I don't any other day. You're always with me. I think about you all the time. I miss you. I don't know how to move on from this. Maybe I never will.
I never got to hold you in my arms, but I will always hold you in my heart. Always. I love you my precious baby. And I'm so, so sorry.