After 1.5 yrs of weekly sessions, I’ve stopped seeing Dr Jerry. I feel like I’ve taken that relationship as far as it can go for now… well, until I bottom out again I suppose. It had just reached the point where I felt like we were spinning our wheels — over the last 1.5 yrs, I’ve talked about motherloss and babyloss and religious baggage ad nauseum. The poor damn horse is dead… I guess I’ll quit kicking it for awhile.
Not that I’ll quit fixating on those topics, of course… just not gonna pay to do it in a formalized therapy setting.
I’m so glad that my sister’s baby is here. I didn’t realize how much I was dreading the birth process — the call that it’s happening, the labor & delivery wing of the hospital, watching with sad eyes, hoping that one day it will be my turn. It all happened so quickly that I was able to keep the demons at bay for the most part. There were a few moments of self-pity, but I buried them in activity… bringing food to the hospital, balancing hospital visits with my little job, & buying silly things like a giant pink bow for the hosp room door.
There was one time, when I held Sadie and looked at her tiny, perfect face, and I truly felt overwhelmed and inadequate. Healthy, perfectly formed and functioning babies are such an unbelievably complex phenomenon… that the science of multiplying cells can (and does in cases where my uterus isn’t involved) become a breathing, sleeping, warm little human. I felt a wave of doubt that I’ll ever be able to accomplish such an incredible feat — that, like winning an Olympic medal for pole-vaulting or being one of those circus girls who balance on a galloping horse, that maybe growing a little human is something that my body just isn’t meant to do.
Bleh. Don’t like that thought. Moving on. You see, this is what I do right now. I tamp down sad thoughts like tobacco in a pipe.
I still really like my job. Not crazy about the pissiness of working with women again… you know, the whole gossipy, whisper-whisper, back-stabby thing… seriously, I wonder if there’s a female-monopolized workplace that isn’t catty as hell?! But the kids? Love ’em. My day:laugh ratio has increased dramatically — they’re just so stinking *funny*. Like one little boy came in the other morning hugging a cowboy boot. Not a pair of boots… just one boot. His frazzled dad explained that he wouldn’t leave the house (or the car) without it. Or when we’re talking about body parts, and I ask where their bellies are… one little boy responded that he left his at home.
And I know they probably hug on all their teachers, but it absolutely warms my heart everytime one of them launches themselves at my legs or crawls into my lap. Such dear little critters. Dogs can sense fear…. so maybe the kiddies can sense that I’m in love with them. Ya think? :)