It’s been a long time, my friends.
I wish I could say that this hiatus was due to me finding a job or having some life altering change like getting my own cooking show (well, I can dream). I’m not even going to try and come with an excuse because what it boils down to is that I haven’t had the energy to write, let alone keep up with my blog. It’s a shame and I apologize.
Let’s see if I can reduce the last three months down into a small paragraph…
Me and the Mr. just passed five and half months of marriage a couple of days ago. Things are going swimmingly. I have yet to find a full time job or have yet to make any friends down here that I haven’t already had from the beginning. I’ve been working at Target thirty five hours or so every week and although the pay is minimum and the work exhaustive, I’m glad that I have something to do with my time. I can now run five miles without really breaking a sweat and have hit my goal of running thirty miles in one week. I’ve even hit my other minor goal of running seven miles! I’m almost….well, okay somewhat almost there guys!!
There we go. I reduced my life for the past three months in a nice wee little paragraph. It is what has happened recently that is my spark for discussion. Let me begin with saying that I have decided joining the Army is the best decision not only for myself, but for my relationship with Alex, and our future together. Barring all complications, I hope to sign a six year contract with them here within the next month. I’ve taken a lot of flak for this decision, surprisingly mostly from close friends and my immediate family. There seems to be an air of disappointment, anger, and a general frustrated disposition with me. I suppose I had expected a reaction for my family, but it’s surprising that so many friends that I had considered friends for life have begun to forget about me. It’s difficult to deal with, but I am glad that I have my husband to help with the loneliness that never seems to go away. His patience, resilience, and ability to care while I begin to crack under the pressure is astounding. I’m not normally a mushy person nor so publicly open about our relationship, but I feel as though many other Army Wives go through this exact same thing. The never ending unknown that never seems to be talked about among the wives for fear of looking weak. I don’t think it’s weak to show these emotions, but instead I think it is something that should be discussed freely so as to be cathartic in a way. Just my two cents on the subject.
For the first time in such a long while, I feel excited. I seem to fluctuate between feelings of poop-your-pants excitement to bouts of extreme nervousness at even the idea, but there is the deep feeling that I can’t explain that it’s just right. It’s what I want and need to do. It’s that simple and I hope that friends and family will come to accept the decision. In the words of Forrest Gump, that’s all I really got to say about that.
Now for another rather taboo topic of conversation, once again especially with particular people who are close to me, is the subject of babies. Sweet, cuddly, crapping, crying, sacks of joy.
When a baby looks this adorable while it sheds one lone glistening tear, pouting their way into your heart — well, you’d be a cold bastard not to swoon and do anything you can to stop it from crying. I don’t know, I guess it’s biology. Let’s get real though, kids usually have this blood curdling scream that makes you want to claw your face off. They don’t look like that. They look like shriveled, prunes that just constantly need. And guess what? I’m okay with that. Contrary to what a lot of people think, I love babies. I love kids. I want them and have this insane insatiable desire to have one so I can smother it in my love. So it’s a simple enough question…why don’t we?
I could reduce the argument down to simple math. Career > baby. That wouldn’t be honest though.
I could say that it’s because it’s just not the right time. I’d be lying.
I could say that it’s because I’m afraid of not knowing my ass from my elbow, let alone on a child. Lies, lies, lies.
I could say that it’s because of a fear of failure, having history repeat itself. Although partial truth, this isn’t why either.
For the first time in such a long time, I’m going to be open. I know that people will see this and judge (I’m seeing and thinking of all you family members right now) and the idea of it makes me a bit nauseous. Although there is relative anonymity on this blog from strangers, I am fully aware that people will see this who do know me. For my own therapeutic sake, I need to be write my feelings down in a forum to where maybe will second guess before they say one of the following:
1. (While playing with niece or nephew) “Don’t even think about it yet! Get to law school!”
2. “So when are y’all going to have beautiful babies?”
I generally have a very strict rule about talking about things that, to be honest, nobody gives a crap about. Everyone has problems and I get that. This is for me, not you.
I could go into detail about the horror that I feel surrounding this but I don’t think it would help much. I just know, no matter what happened, that the feelings I have suddenly at the prospect of having a baby are reduced to just plain fear. Obviously the feelings I have are natural and being that I have mostly hidden in silence for years aside from the few people I confided in, I can’t help but feel as though it’s just something that needs to be gotten over. Mind over matter and all of that hubabaloo.
I see pregnant people and I cry. I think it’s because I realize that our child would be a year and a half. Our beautiful, sweet (sure to be a smart ass) child. Due to the nature of the situation, the grief was delayed until recently when baby fever struck me like a Buy, Buy, Baby semi truck. All of those feelings have come rushing out in this whirlwind of crazy. It’s the only way to explain it. The catalyst I believe comes from when we were unpacking our belongings when we moved to Georgia. At the bottom of one of my hubby’s bags that had been cleared out of his dresser sat the box that had held the pregnancy test. I don’t know why or how it got on there but one look at it and the grief and rage and anger and sadness enveloped me up into this unrecognizable jealous baby hater.
But I digress, I don’t want to complain about something that can’t be changed. I do want to draw awareness to Miscarriage and Infant Loss Awareness Month this October in hopes that other people won’t feel so ashamed as I do to talk about something that is fairly common in our society. Please talk to your significant other, or a friend if that’s the case, and let it out. Don’t let it reduce you to a quivering heap of fear much like myself.
I’ve ranted long enough I think. I feel better knowing that these events are shaping us for the better. Being that tonight is one of my first nights off in quite some time, I hope to be able to make it to the pumpkin patch with my amazing husband. Till next time.