"Women want men, careers, money, children, friends, luxury, comfort, independence, freedom, respect, love, and $3 pantyhose that won't run."
Ten out of twelve are good odds for most people. Except when one of the missing items is children. Then it becomes a stark void.
I received an email from a dear friend who lives in Philly...with photos of her son, who is darling.
That 'ol pang within my belly started up again. It's that repeat angst over the fact that all of my friends have been able to have babies...except me. It's the realization that I am "not normal." It's the guilt that my husband will never have a baby from his own seed. It's the inner despair that my life is nothing more than a 9am to 7pm job that could replace me in the snap of a finger.
As I sat with my mom and sister in front of the fire tonight, I realized how lucky I am to have them. If and when anyone passes away...there will be no one to replace them. We'll be all alone. And then what?
I'm unsure of where we stand with the adoption. I'm not reading my husband's "signals" very well, and we haven't been able to sit down and genuinely talk about it. I'm too busy working. He's too busy running errands for my parents. It's very much like being on a treadmill: A whole lot of work just to run in place.
I don't want this to be the core of my existence. And we've been doing it for so long, it's begining to look like a Pattern.