Friday, April 28, 2006

What's Wrong with Me?

It's all about what she didn't say.

So many people focus solely on the words that are spoken. The stinging barbs or the subtle phrases with the intonations that belie the actual words.

I've always been sensitive to What Wasn't Said. The absence of words that communicate an entire story. Case in point: The home study report.

"Husband is a handsome, mature and responsible person with an easy-going manner. He is creative, outgoing and compassionate. Husband is considerate, supportive, loyal and rational. He has the ability to maintain long-term relationships and has a strong commitment to family and becoming a father. Husband's intelligence, stability and compassion will make him an excellent adoptive father.

"Jill is a well-groomed, active, goal-oriented and competitive woman. She describes herself as self-confident and responsible with good interpersonal skills. Jill gives the impression of being somewhat introverted, and she enjoys making beaded jewelry."

There is no mention about me being an excellent adoptive parent. Not even a good one. No direct recommendation. No descriptive High-Five. No mention about me being a good mother.

There is an entire paragraph about Husband's compassion - and nothing about mine. I sound like a cold, steel robot who had a messed-up childhood. And because I worked for 3 companies for just over 2 years...I've been pegged as having an Occupational History of "concern." WTF?

OK. I can get over the fact that she put my weight on the front page. But the write-up about me is so...so...gah. I don't even have the words. And apparently, there is something very wrong with me for never yearning/aching to be pregnant.

Hello. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Abby-Normal.

The fact that I'm dying to have kids doesn't count. The fact that I'm caretaking my parents and a niece doesn't give me compassion or understanding or show a relationship with my extended family. Husband talks to his parents 3 times a month, but they are "extremely close." RRRRRRight.

Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.

Somehow, I have got to just package this up into a box and place it on a shelf. It will still be there in my mind, but it's not going to make me stumble or slow me down in this process...dammit.