An exercise in futility…

I shall now begin what is most likely a futile attempt to write without crying.  Since coming back to Guatemala from Christmas break, I’ve been a bit of a basket case… though I think I’ve done alright keeping that to myself.  For starters- today I turn thirty-three.  That feels old.  I am not insulting people who are older than 33, but I’ve never been 33 before; in fact, it’s the oldest I’ve ever been.  And it feels old.  No, let me take that back.  It doesn’t feel old… I don’t feel any different from yesterday.  But it sounds old.  It’s halfway between 30 and thirty-five.  I’m heading towards my mid-30’s. 

Then, the reality of this whole ‘having a baby’ thing is setting in.  Outside of the excitement and joy, there are the normal stresses- financial worries and ‘oh crap, what have we done’ worries and when am I going to get a good night’s sleep again worries.  But I’m also missing home.  No one else around me is pregnant and as much as I don’t want to talk about it all the time, I would like to talk about it sometimes and that’s hard to do with people who aren’t in the same place as you.  And when I talk to the mother-friends I do have, I feel like that annoying friend who only wants to talk about my pregnancy or baby.  They’re probably thinking just like I was, “I can have other conversations, you know?”  So I try not to bother them too much. 

And finally, there is the impending anniversary of my mother’s death.  This has been hitting me a lot harder than I expected.  I think I’ve handled it well this year but between having my first birthday without my mom and having my own kid in a few months, it’s sort of getting to me.  I also realized that I never really went through the Stages.  I think I jumped straight into ‘acceptance’ and completely skipped over the other four stages of grief.  I knew she was happy and healthy again, smiling down on us and finally free from her pain and sadness.  That made it easy to accept.  But lately I feel angry- why isn’t she here to walk me through this next stage of my life?  Why isn’t she here to meet her granddaughter?  What am I even going to tell my daughter about her grandmother?  And what do I call her (my mom, not my daughter)?  I know she would’ve wanted some cutsey-non-grandmotherly type nickname.  But she never told me what it was. 

And so that’s the start to my 2011.  I have made it through this writing with only a welling-up of tears, but I did stop to check facebook a few times, just to ward off a full-on cry.  Dave made me breakfast this morning and bought me these adorable little doggy statues for my birthday.  We’re also going to dinner and a movie tonight, and sliding in some baby shopping.  I am keeping myself busy this weekend because Monday is going to be hard.  But I will focus on the happiness that is growing (and kicking like a soccer player) inside of me and I’ll be fine.

Oops, gotta go check facebook now.


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