Infinite sadness

I knew Mother’s Day was going to be hard, but I wasn’t prepared for how unbelievably horrible I felt yesterday.  I haven’t felt that awful since I miscarried.  It was like I was reliving it all over again.

It didn’t really hit me until Saturday evening.  And what’s worse, my husband didn’t really get it.  He thought it was about him.  It was his fault I wasn’t a mother yet.  It was something he did wrong.  And then he said that I would be a mother next Mother’s Day.  Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s said that the last two Mother’s Days as well.  I don’t think he gets it.  I don’t think this has affected him even a fraction of how it has affected me.  If it has he doesn’t let it show.

I think it’s really starting to hit hard now because at my other job I got to the point I knew I would have to come to at some point.  I registered someone who had my due date.  I looked over her paper and noticed the due date.  September 18, 2009.   I just had to suck it up and congratulate her and tell her all the wonderful things the store has to offer and blah, blah, blah.  What stung the most was that she had a beautiful baby bump.

That should be me.  I should have a beautiful, round belly.  I should be starting my baby registry.  If I wanted to (which we had decided to be surprised) I would know what I was having.  I should start thinking about my baby shower.  I should start worrying about which pediatrician to choose.  I should be interviewing potential child care centers or nannies or figuring out how to afford to stay home. 

But I’m not.

I’m no closer to being a mom this Mother’s Day than I was last Mother’s Day.  But this Mother’s Day was supposed to be different.  This Mother’s Day was supposed to be happy and joyous and I was supposed to have a reason to celebrate.  Instead I curled into the fetal position and cried my eyes out until I had to go to work.  It took everything I had in me to make it through work.  Thankfully, it was slow and the only new registry I had wasn’t due until September 24th.  After work, I went home and went to bed.  I think it must have been around 8:30 and I usually stay up until 11 or 12 so this is not normal for me.  I couldn’t sleep though.  I tossed and turned most of the night and was confused when I woke up this morning.  I couldn’t remember what day it was or what time I had to get up.  I hate that feeling.

Today was better.  I smiled.  I laughed.  My husband wasn’t afraid of me.  Things are back to “normal.”  At least until next Mother’s Day.    

No, I’m not pregnant.

But I’m still having some crazy dreams.  

I’m definitely coming down with something though.  I’ve got a sore throat.  My head hurts and feels like a watermelon.  I have a slight fever.  Basically I just feel like a big steaming pile of poo.  Maybe it’s swine flu.

I left work early to come home and crash, which I actually did for once.  Usually when I say I’ll do that I end up either on the computer or watching tv.  Today I slept.  And slept.  And slept.  And had a weird dream.

I was hanging out with this guy like we were dating.  I remember laying with him on a bed and talking and then kissing.  Then he asks me if I want to screw but I told him I couldn’t because I was having my period.  Which I am so it makes sense.  Then I remember him talking to someone on a video phone and he must have been Philipino or something because he was speaking in some sort of Asian language to this person and the person on the phone looked Asian.  And then his nieces and nephews were running in and out of the house.  The house, by the way, was my ex-boyfriends’.  And then my ex walks in to the house and gets mad that I’m there.  So after awkwardly collecting my things and explaining this to my new “friend” I fast forward to being at work.  Keep in mind that I work in a child care center.  I see my new “friend” walk into one of the classrooms and I ask a co-worker about him and ask how old he is. 

“Oh, him?  He’s 3.”

Great, so now instead of gay sailor James Bond dreams I am now having dreams about making out with 3 year old Philipino boys in my ex-boyfriends’ house.  Wonderful. 

And in my defense, he looked like he was over 18.