Ladies and gentlemen, I am a jealous woman.
I desire a second child for my family with a ferocity that sometimes scares even me. When I see new babies, or women who are pregnant, or even empty infant car seat boxes by the side of the road, my chest aches, the tears prick behind my eyes & I wonder, "why them, why not me?" If it is someone that I know well, and like, who has what I want it's somewhat easier. If it's someone that I don't like or respect as much, look out 'cause the green-eyed monster is going to be spewing venom in my head. Things like, "Oh my GAWD she is letting the not even 14 month old drink Coke, what kind of mother does that? Why does she get three beautiful children?" or "She watches COPS every night with the two year old for family time, why does she get another kid and not ME?"
And then I like a myself a lot less.
This is not the kind of person that I want to be, or the kind of mother that I want Grasshopper to have. He deserves better. So do I. But I don't know how to stop. I have been here before, in this place where my desire to be a mother has outweighed almost every other thought in my head and I had hoped not to ever be here again, or at least not so soon after adopting Grasshopper. But here I sit.
Infertility is BITCH people, make no mistake about it. She attacks quite a number of women, not just me, but I seem to be the only one I care about (which is another strike against me if you're keeping track). I don't feel like I even have the right to feel this awful when I do, in fact have a child. When I am, in fact a mother already. Somehow though, it isn't enough. I feel myself becoming distant from those people around me whose own procreative joy is becoming a toxic substance and I can hardly breathe when they are near. People who I KNOW have every right to their blessings, perhaps even more right than I have, but I can't be happy for them. Not today anyway.
Perhaps tomorrow will be better. Perhaps tomorrow I will get some good news of my own, like an offer on our house (which will hopefully provide us with the money necessary to adopt again), or a resolution to the on-going battle with the adoption attorney who stole our money and broke our hearts twice-over in our quest for a second child. Perhaps tomorrow the green-eyed monster will take the day off and I'll be happy in my own head again.
I sure hope so. Because Grasshopper deserves better. And so do I.