I've been lying around feeling sorry for myself. Feeling stuck in limbo between carrying out a charade and torching, myself, the only solid ground I have to stand on. This results in a lot of staring into space, walking into walls, and continuous, droning, circular thoughts of self-pity.
I need to snap out of it. The stress is bad for the seabass, and it makes me an absolute nightmare to be around. I really do need to think of this one day at a time. I need to ease up a bit, back off a bit, try not to control everything so tightly, try to trust those around me a little bit more.
The social worker appointment was wonderful. We were there for a couple of hours, and SW talked to me and Max Power both together and separately. We got to look through the photo albums of the two couples we'd picked out of the book. One of them really, really stood out to me (even more so when we looked at their album - even though they used Papyrus font) and Max Power liked them too. After getting some basic medical history from MP and flushing mine out a little bit more, SW told us she's gonna contact them, and maybe we can set up a preliminary getting-to-know-you meeting at the agency if they like us on paper. I am remaining firmly neutral on this, trying not to picture the seabass gallivanting happily through their lives; me in the kitchen on his birthday, playing on the floor with new toys; them holding their new son, smiling, full of love. NONE OF THAT. One day at a time.
Also, STUFF helps. Focusing on silly, short term things helps. Such as:
- My two-pack of JCPenney sport-ish kinda bras came and OMG I AM NEVER TAKING THEM OFF. My bazongas have sprouted like Tomacco and not having a bra on is awkward and painful, but I'm not gonna be sleeping in my push up. Nor do I wanna sleep in a sports halter corset coffin. NOW I HAVE THESE. SO COMFORTABLE.
- I cashed in my Chase rewards points from my debit card for a $25 gift certificate to Gap! Now I can get the maternity shorts I know are unnecessary long-term and I couldn't afford but would be so wonderful right now.
- Stretch mark lotion: I bought some cheap lotion to rub between my toes which always feel interminably dry. And then I got some more expensive lotion from this site: http://www.duematernity.com. If you go to the bella b section under skincare, they have this tummy lotion to prevent stretchmarks. It's $20, which is ridiculous, but they're doing a promotion where if you buy it you get their stretchmark reducing cream ($25) for FREE. I am a SUCKER for shit like that. I bought it. Seriously, it cheered me up, so fuck it.
- I dyed my hair. It's reddish red with a tint of red, which is my standard shade.
- I finally went to the eye doctor, and I'm getting glasses - a godsend, since I can't see - and I have frames all picked out. They're like Buddy-Holly-meets-librarian.
Focusing on these little things - getting the bras, focusing on when the Gap card will come, when the lotion will come, when I can go get my glasses - they are the handholds I use to swing from day to day and preserve my sanity. I've been doing the same thing with the seabass since the beginning: focusing on the trivial and taking the big picture as it comes, fitting in the pieces as they show up. Whenever I try to step back from it, I panic. So I would think about little dorky things, like how a girl would be a good thing so I could dress her in a onesie that said, "Though she be but little, she is fierce." Or how I want to breastfeed, just once, so that I can truly say, "I have given suck, and know how tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me." But then my mind goes dark, because more onorously, I will have to say the rest.
"I would, while it was smiling in my face, have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums and dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you have done to this."
Because I have sworn to adoption, willingly and fully. I will be that disgusting, twisted Lady Macbeth. That's how I feel, anyway. Fiendish. Bloody. Despicable. Unwanted. Capable of anything but love. And this is how trying to focus on little pieces ends up sending me back into tailspins of self-pity. I am a dork, therefore I am sad.
To end on a lighter note, here I am, gettin' pregnant! Yes, that is a tattoo of the Batman symbol. No, I am not ashamed.
And thank you, dear kind readers, for your support on my previous password protected post (ALLITERATION FTW). It really meant and means a lot.
Hi, looking good!You know good olive oil does a better job than any stretch mark stuff.Keep cool.
ReplyDeleteAhh, you are so cute! And you are showing perfectly perfect -- just right! I am thinking of you lots and lots and lots. Madison is still happy to answer questions. You can also ask her about silly bandz or guinea pigs because she also feels she is an expert in these things.
ReplyDeleteYou have such a cute little baby belly! I love my pregnancy with Ladybug even more than with my other kids because I knew that it would be the only time in her life that I would have her all to myself. I cherished every little kick and wiggle. I also breastfed her in the hospital for two days. I loved knowing that I was helping her to start out her life in the best possible way, and that (again) I was doing something for her that ONLY I could do. I wouldn't give back that experience for anything.
ReplyDeleteThe fact that you are so gleefully and publicly doing this definitely puts you down as worse than Lady MacBeth in a lot of people's books.
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure what I would do in your situation, although I'm not so into blogging, so I don't judge. It's your life, you've got to live with yourself at the end of the day. That's what matters.
But people are talking about you elsewhere and they don't have very nice things to say.
I think it's the fact that you are so dismissive to those who think you are possibly rushing things a bit.
Personally, my only qualm is your comment section and all the adopters who seem to be pursuing you quite ardently while trying to be your pal. That's creepy.
Good luck.
@Anon - Go away. Please. Signed, Not An Adopter
ReplyDelete"that you are so gleefully and publicly doing this" I have to wonder if the author of this has bothered to read your blog at all. Anyway, people suck, and I'm on pain meds, so it's best not to get into it.
ReplyDeleteI hear your feelings of guilt, shame, and wretchedness. I hope you also find times of pride, comfort, and love. Adoption hurts and it beautiful. It sucks and is amazing. It ruins people and rescues them. It's okay to hope.
I am sorry that you are wracked with guilt. I don't imagine this can be an easy process for you. I have to admit that it is very painful for me to watch you go through this. To hear you talk about your desire to dress your child, knowing that you aren't going to parent, or co-parent, and that you may not have as much say in his life as you want (or are promised). I know that there are many people here reassuring you about the beauty of adoption. I am less sure of the sustainability of this "beauty," because it hasn't been my lived experience. While adoption brought me unconditional love from wonderful aparents and many bright prospects, it wasn't a substitution for my own tribe--not by a long shot. It sucks being separated from your biological heritage. I know you and MP want to be present in your son's life, but in an adoption, that presence is always precarious. You'll grow, change, maybe have other children. What will you son's place be in your life, over time? You can write me off as one of the "bitter" adoptees, if you like, but that is denying the truth that many of us speak.
ReplyDeleteIt saddens me that there are not other adoptees sticking around to talk to you on your journey. I think your son deserves advocates, just as you do.
I Am - you are always so concise, and say exactly the right thing. I wish I could convey what I think half as well as you do (and on pain meds, to boot!).
ReplyDeleteKatharine - thanks for your thoughtfulness. I'm a birthmother (though I am not "out" as a blogger), and I've often wondered about the other side. Maybe you are "one of the 'bitter' adoptees," but if that's the case (and it doesn't seem like it is), it's refreshing to see constructive feedback. I wonder how my experience might have been different if I'd heard about adoption from anyone other than my agency.
Lia - sorry to hijack. :/
I understand the dark places of the mind. I believe you can love. I believe you already do. I believe in you.
ReplyDeleteI'm now hesitant to comment though it was only a minor point, as I'm a prospective adoptive parent.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, I'm with you all the way on the font, we have been given several profiles to read while constructing ours, and some of them, well, my eyes! my eyes!
In case anyone is interested, we chose Trebuchet...
Creepy adopter here~ just for the record I am not pursuing you Lia. I thought you might like a different opinion every once in a while from an adoptive mom thats all. I didn't realize being a human being with feelings, that cares for others makes me a creepy adopter that is going after your baby. I know this is said by an anonymous person who obviously can't stand behind their words and say who they are. But anyway, if I bother you and you would not like me to follow or comment just let me know. Don't want to put any undue stress on you! And if it doesn't I apologize for the comeback to anon, it just irks me that someone presumes to know what's on my mind when they don't know me. :)
ReplyDeleteI hope the couple is what you want them to be in person too. And bras..soooo necessary and wonderful when you find the right one. lol