I'm back from Algiers. It was a fascinating trip. I work for a place that if they saw my blog, and my occasional spewing about George Walker Bush, I would get canned. Or flogged. Whatever. So, I don't write about work....I did attend a conference where French and Arabic was spoken. I speak neither. The interpreter cut out early from the workshop and I sat there clue-less, with plenty of time to think think think.
Oh quick update: M is good and we saw the babies this morning. Both babies are measuring at a normal rate and the girl's umbilical cord issue seems to be resolved. I think they are getting closer to hitting to 2 pounds each? M is starting to waddle...but she looks hot to me.
In Algeria I had too much time to think and started to get cold feet about being a parent. I should be shot for saying that. I know that whatever crappy existence I thought I had - is going to abruptly change. And just when I think I found my true career calling- the foreign service. Damn. No way is that happening now. I don't think I can take the foreign service exam and come home and ask M to please move with the kids to a country where the gays are outlawed. It ain't happening. Oh well....maybe I just like the intrigue or romantic notion of living in an embassy somewhere.
So, I sat in a conference room thinking about how I am careening towards being in a constant state of- sleeplessness, moodiness, sex deprivation, crankiness, and guilt ridden emotions. Do I sound like an ass? I longed to be a mother for about the last 10 years. I spent sleepless nights, tens of thousands of dollars on ivf, sacraficed work, friends, and other important relationships....and now we are close to getting everything we wanted and I get cold feet(s). I should be flogged.
M and I are both stressed as we have zero baby furniture, no doors in our rail-road apartment, no washer/dryer, and the babies room is still an office. We got into a bit of an argument last night because she proposed some furniture choices and I nixed the choices. As she reminded me: she has spent countless hours looking online for a freaking changing table that would fit the strange demension of our non-existent nursery. I think we are going to it custom built. As if we are commissioning a piece-like Michaelangelo's "Pieta" or something. I cannot believe in this town you can't find a furniture store that caters to cramped apartment dwellers. Bizzare.
Reason 304(i)(d) to stay in NYC: Being gay isn't (completely) illegal.
Pictured above is a stuffed camel I purchased for the non-existent nursery.
2 comments:
Well, I think the cold feet are completely normal. People talk so much about the good and the neutral; very few talk about the bad and difficult. We all know what is great about having babies, I need people to talk about what is hard. Like no one really went into detail how sleep deprivation is akin to torture. I think (at least for me) feeling overwhelmed, especially with two babies on the way, was the overriding emotion, which led to fears about all the things you wrote about. The good thing is all those bad things are transient (really) and the good remains! How's that for pollyanna! And now, just six months later, I have time to do things like this, read about other people's lives and comment in depth while my twins sleep (please let them stay asleep!)
hola- I love that dope Pollyanna. Hope your babies slept and gave you respite from the torture. Cannot wait.
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