Crap.

Next week I’ll be starting an art project for my friend who’s pregnant with twins. I love this girl to death, but we’re not as close since her pregnancy. Go figure, right? Y’all know how that works.

Anyway, I’m doing four or five pieces to decorate the babies’ room. I’ll definitely be posting pics when I finish, because this is gonna be awesome.

Can you tell I’m excited?

But there’s always gotta be a ‘but,’ right?

But I’m now attempting to make myself fully crazy.

My husband and I had a talk over our Thanksgiving vacation. I asked what he wanted to do and he replied, ‘keep trying.’ So I told him that while I have no problem with continuing to try, I’d rather do it drug-free, and I’d like to get more serious about adoption instead of putting so much faith in fertility drug cocktails.

And then Sarah posted her weekly pregnancy update and I went nuts. I’ll quote myself here:

You look so good! If I was your real-life friend I’d totally be begging to feel your tummy. I don’t know what’s up with me, I never do that! Maybe it’s the drugs.

Um, April? What did you do with the real April? I don’t think I’ve touched more than two pregnant bellies in my life, counting my mother’s.

And then I got my friend’s request for artwork, and I realized something that I thought I’d talked myself out of.

I want that.

Who cares about the hours of soul searching I’ve done about what’s most important to me? Who cares that I decided a long time ago that it was the parenting, not the pregnancy?

I thought what I wanted most was to parent a child seven days a week, a child that belonged to me and my husband and no one else. I thought that it didn’t matter how that child was ours, just that it was ours.

And now I want that belly so bad I can taste it.

Biology has done me in. I almost wonder if I will actually grope the next pregnant woman I see. Hopefully that’ll be my friend on Monday morning. That’d probably be less awkward than some poor victim at the grocery store.

And Sarah? You do look really good. And I still want to rub your belly.


And After Calming Down a Bit…

I’ve been home a few hours now, and had a chance to calm down a bit after all the fun I had this morning. It’s time to be more realistic. How am I going to make it four weeks? The same way I made it the last four weeks, or four months, or four years. One manageable unit of time at a time.

Right now it’s minutes, because I’m trying to avoid thinking about my husband having to go to work in two and a half hours…

And after a nap that wasn’t nearly long enough, here I am to finish this post.

I don’t know. I probably sounded like I expected everything to be all better when I left there this morning, but I didn’t really expect that, although it sure would have been nice!

I did not expect to have to wait another month to see a counselor, and that part really was disappointing. But what can I do?

I do feel a small bit better. Although I’ll be seeing someone else for counseling, I liked the social worker I talked to this morning, and I was able to tell her things that I may never be able to talk about here. So I guess that was a start.