Gosh I could google things for hours. Pin a million quotes on an inspirational Pinterest board. Fantasize about a glorious rainbow at the end of a storm being a metaphor for my life. My stupid but beautiful life. I am so grateful for life and my daughter and my fiancé yet at the same time I am so angry at the utter bullshit we have been through. I sometimes wonder how I am 30 and how I got here. How is this my life? What the fuck happened the last 7 years? I have no idea.
I do know love. All consuming love of the little lady snuggling sound asleep next to me now. Of my fiancé – where we drive each other to the brink of insanity and back again…every day. But always back again. Then I know love that feels like it’s in a cage, in a glass case of emotion (thank you Anchorman). That I feel but is so very restricted. My beautiful husband, in heaven. My beautiful daughter, in heaven. Sharing pictures of them- feeling and knowing that I’m upsetting people. I don’t enjoy that my pictures and my stories and my words bring others to tears. My life, makes people cry and shudder to imagine it being theirs. Fearing my reality to ever be their reality. Let me breathe that in for a moment.
I love that people tell me how strong they think I am and how well I’m doing. I truly appreciate it yet could never agree. I’m a damn mess who feels absolutely robbed of my early adulthood. Half of me tries to soak it in, and be in the moment; the other half tries to shut out every last feeling, smile, tear, memory. Jekyll and Hyde. I swear. Each moment of my damn day. My mind is exhausting. I exhaust myself simply by waking.
I go back to an old post in which I said I’m not the same me. It’s funny, I spent my teenaged years straight hating everything about me (because what else are those years for if you’re an awkward, nerdy, self-conscious girl?). Now I would give anything to be that naive, mild mannered, unassuming, innocent kid with straight NO life experience. I’m good with life experience. Except maybe some happy fucking life experience. That’d be cool.
And even in saying that I know I have had plenty of happy life experiences. My parents may be divorced now but I had a perfectly happy upbringing by people who loved and still love me unconditionally. I have also been loved unconditionally by two loyal, loving, honest, hard working, beautiful men. Two. Some people never see the day once. And my daughters. My sweet babies. Nothing compares to the surge in my heart I feel when I hug Mackenzie or think of Elliana.
So I’m way far ahead of lots of people. My problems, on a worldly scale, are not even close to the largest. Not even on the same page of the largest, of the people who have it the worst. It’s easy to get lost in the bad things and ask, “Why me?”. But I have a roof over my head, money to pay my bills, a mind to think and grow, a strong and healthy body, and a house filled with love and laughter. I still don’t think it’s fair what happened to my sweet loves. I don’t know what kind of karma I caused to bring this upon myself. I don’t know if I believe in karma. I don’t know why. But bad things happen and that’s that. And every now and then REALLY bad things happen. And good things happen. Cmon good things. The REALLY good things.
Which brings me back to my title and original purpose of this post: rainbow babies. I can’t read about them, think about them, dream and plan for one enough. Ideally, Ryan gets his new job this summer, we fix a few things financially and emotionally, and try try try this fall. I’d love a May or June baby. A son. A little man of joy.
Then “Hyde” comes out and I freeze, say to myself ‘are you fucking nuts?!’ and run back into my safety net of life as it is.
I am thinking of creating a blog solely for our journey of deciding if we are having another baby. I may even share that with people I know and let them read it. Instead of writing the blog in practical anonymity, unbeknownst to anyone close to me. Jekyll: get your feelings out, share with those close to you so they know how and why you are the way you are. Share in the new possibilities, the journey and hopefully happy moments along the way. Hyde: don’t share shit. Then people will ask about it, or make stupid sentimental comments about it that you want to run away from (I only like emotions on my terms, from a distance). They’ll be in on it and what if you want to throw in the towel and it all falls through. Maybe I should name that side of me Debbie Hyde. Debbie (Downer) Hyde. Or the practical side Hyde.
Ugh. In my next life I want to come back as someone who is decisive, sure of herself, and confident in all she does. That’d be cool to know what that feels like.