Thursday, December 25, 2014

It's the most wonderful time of the year...Part II...

Part I - December 2011

Just a few weeks after my second miscarriage.

My grief was insurmountable.

In that post, I summed up my grief: "...every moment feels like you are walking through quicksand. The days fly by at such an alarmingly slow pace but they will be here and gone before you know it."

I think I'm at a loss for words to describe where I am today...

Christmas Eve 2014

I see those words...those words of Christmas past... and I am speechless...wordless...

Trust me this isn't going to be one of those self absorbed, self stroking posts about..."How if I could only go back and shake the me then and tell her it's all going to be okay..."  Blah! Blah! Bullshit....

I know that there are so many out there who can't breathe right now and the holidays...the most wonderful time of the year...makes it worse. Makes it nearly impossible to even get up and face the cheer.

So no, this isn't one of those posts about how: "If I could only see into the future I would change the way I felt then"

Because there is no way, at that time, I could have foreseen this...

This freaking miracle...

And really...who the hell could!!

Because to be completely honest...I...AM...ONE...LUCKY... MOTHER FER.....!

There is no doubt in my mind that I could easily be sitting in the same grief of 2011...2012...2013 and of course the many years before that...

I do not know what I did to deserve this twist of fate that brought me my daughter...

It's perfect orchestration...how could one predict that!

I pray every day to be worthy of it...

And the only words that seem to come to me is...redemption...it feels like redemption...

And isn't that fitting for the season!

Those deep, dark moments when I felt like my whole life was a mistake...

Like there were no words to describe its purpose...

Or wait maybe there are words...

The words I never thought I would speak...

The words that every day take my breath away and are the reason I breathe...

The words...

"My daughter"

Every day I get to say those words and it is like Christmas!

To those still waiting to say those words...

To those still living with the ghost of Christmas Past or Christmas Present...

I can't tell how to make it better...or what to do to change it...all I can say is hold on...and even that isn't good enough...I know! I've been there!

But I do pray that someday you find your redemption...that you find your Merry Christmas!

Because there are no word to express it when it happens...there's nothing else like it.

It is the true meaning of Christmas...

I pray you find your Merry Christmas!











Friday, November 7, 2014

Broken too...

When I bought my condo back in 2006, all I could barely afford was a one bedroom. The condo is great. Very spacious for a one bedroom but it's a one bedroom.

Of course now my one bedroom is worth a studio and I could get a two bedroom for just about what I paid for my one bedroom...

Ughhh...and yikes...but really it doesn't matter...the tides will change again and I LOVE my condo.  I have no plans for moving...well at least for 5 years...

When I decided that I was going to take motherhood into my own hands, the plan was to turn my dining room/office into the nursery.

About three months before I got "the call"...feeling at my lowest...feeling that motherhood had slipped through my hands...I decided to put that plan into action. I put up a wall and created a nursery.

I felt that..."If I build it...they will come!"

And still to my amazement it worked!! She came and took up residency!!!

My little Ladybug has the cutest nursery! (if I do say so myself)...

But in order to make the world's cutest nursery I had to move some things around...and that included my office and two antique bookcases.  Those bookcases are treasured possessions from my Grandma H who passed away in 2008.

These bookcases were moved to either side of my living room closet.

On these bookcase not only does it house books but it is the home to some of my most treasured items...ahhhh why wasn't piggy bank up there...I'm not sure why but for some reason piggy bank was always living in my entertainment center.

But on the bookcases...pictures of family...pictures on me with my best friends...dolls...nick nacks...glass figurines and a large round, hand painted ceramic of the astrological sign of Virgo...

The astrological sign of Virgo...my sign.

The hand painted ceramic of the astrological sign of Virgo was hand painted by me when I was little. I was with my father when I painted it. It's one of the very few memories I have...painting that ceramic...

That ceramic...like piggy bank...served as my memories and has been with me for over 30 years.

About a week ago sissy L was over helping me clean out the closet the lies in between the two bookcases.

Barely tapping the bookcase with the closet door...out of all the items living on those shelves...my hand painted ceramic of the astrological sign of Virgo found a way to propel itself off the bookcase and break....

It didn't shattered...which I am happy about...but there are a couple of chunks missing that I will have to paint over...it can't be glued like piggy bank...but it is salvageable...

When it happened I thought "Figures! Doesn't that fucking figure! Of all the things!"

I wasn't mad at sissy L...she barely tapped it...And I wasn't tormented by the sight of it broken...

I was eerily quiet and had a disturbing feeling...

I knew it was an omen...

Almost like the voice that told me right before my 2nd miscarriage: "You won't be pregnant in the summer." Predicting the end of my cherished pregnancy...

This voice said: "You're dad's going to die."

I didn't say this to sissy L.

I cleaned it up and we went about our day.

We went about our days...

I couldn't (and still can't) get the image of these broken items out of my head...broken but fixed...but yet still broken...

I feel like piggy bank...I'm broken but I've been glued back together...

I'm broken because I don't have a relation with my dad. I had one and then it was gone and that has broken me...

There will always be a part of me that is broken but over time with the love of my family and friends those broken pieces have been glued back together.

You might not see the cracks just by looking at me...

You might not know I've been glued back together...but in the end the reality is...I am broken...

A few days after Virgo took a header off the bookcase I received news that my father...my dad...due to injuries from his accident...wasn't going to make it...

He was being taken off all life support...

My step mother and step siblings set it up in the hospital so that my sisters and I would Skype in and say goodbye.

I cannot thank them enough for giving me the opportunity to do so...

I'm going to be honest...deathbed Skyping is something that should NEVER be trending.

It's beyond my vocabulary to describe how hard that was...how sad...how sweet...how moving...how traumatizing...how heartbreaking...

My sisters and I Skyped in...we said hello to our "step" family...my dad's family...

We laughed...we joked...we cried...we said our goodbyes...we expressed our gratitude...

The doctor came in...explained the situation...said amazing things about my dad...and then proceeded...

We waited...

Stories... tears...waiting...songs...my step brother sang a beautiful song to my dad...

It was obvious this was a song they all knew...I didn't know it...but it was beautiful...

Then in one moment...my step sister utter the words: "Daddy".

And suddenly I felt like an intruder...

Some kind of weird peeping Tom...I knew it was time to go...he was her daddy...he was their daddy...

He spent every day with them...Christmas mornings and Easter Sundays...

My Christmas mornings were over a long time ago...he wasn't my daddy anymore and he hadn't been for 30 years.

It was in that moment it became painfully clear that I wasn't ever going to be daddy's little girl...

My cracks were showing...

I ended the Skype...

Later that night little Ladybug woke up crying...she NEVER wakes up crying...this kid can sleep!!

As I was comforting her...I knew deep down that she is broken too...it's something I've always known...and her cracks will be deeper than mine...

I told her:

"I can't take it away baby. I wish I could but I can't take it away. I just pray that I am enough glue to hold those cracks together."

She quieted down and we cuddled together...

Sometime in those moments...my father passed away.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Broken

There is a shelf on the side of my entertainment center, which for the last 8 years, has been the home to piggy bank.

A grey porcelain piggy bank with the name Michaela hand painted on either side.

I have had this piggy bank for over 30 years.

Believe it or not...that is pretty impressive because over 30 years ago finding anything with an unusual name on it was next to impossible...and even today it's hard for me to find things with my name on it (Note to Coke Cola... I would like someone to share a Coke with me!).

But that piggy bank...that piggy bank...some 30 plus years ago...my father, who was stationed in Germany at the time, somehow unearthed it and sent it to me.

It is one of the very few gifts I have from him.

For over 30 years this piggy bank has found its way to a shelf for display in every place that I have ever lived.

And trust me that is a lot of places! You discover how many it really is once you have to repeatedly fill out paperwork for your homestudy asking you to list all the places that you have EVER lived!

EVER LIVED!!

Writing that out makes you go "Dang I moved a lot!!"

And it makes me realize that is A LOT of places that piggy bank has ever lived too!

Well up until a few months ago...

My little Ladybug, my beautiful, sassy little girl, (man she has long arms!) managed to reach up to where  piggy bank lives and pull him down.

Piggy bank is now broken...

I honestly thought my reaction to piggy bank being broken would have been one of deep sadness and sheer remorse for letting one of the very few things I have from my father be in a position to be broken.

I thought I would tormented by seeing it broken into pieces...

I wasn't...I was slightly sad...I had a twinge...but I didn't feel that overwhelming sense of loss...that re-awaking of a familiar pain in my heart...the pain of not having a relationship with my father...that pain that plagued my younger years...I was waiting for that pain...but it was just a reminisce.

I picked up the broken pieces of piggy bank and he is now taking up residence in my bedroom, on top of my dresser with the hopes of someday being glued back together...I say someday because who knows the next time I'll have free time...Ladybug consumes all of my time...it's a good thing...

Not long after piggy bank took his humpty dumpty fall, I received news that my father was in a very bad car accident and in ICU.

All my life I imagined how I would feel about numerous scenarios involving my father...I don't think I ever imagined a devastating car crash that left him broken.

Just like I thought the site of piggy bank being broken would have flooded me with a pain...a pain of loss... I expected hearing such news about my father would torment me too...filling me with the that overwhelming sense of loss...re-awakening that pain that plagued me for years....but it didn't...

I felt a twinge of something...the beginning of an ache in my heart...but out of habit my heart went into self-preservation mode and allowed it to be nothing more than a twinge.

And the twinge...is that twinge there because my father was in a terrible car accident or is it empathy because no one should have to suffer that kind of fate...like the twinge I get when I see an animal on the side of the road...

Could that twinge be nothing more?? Nothing more but empathy....for my father...my dad??

My sister text me: "I just spoke to dad. He told me to let you know that he reads your blog and said you are a very strong woman and he is proud of you."

Ahhhh the twinge...against my hearts best efforts the twinge morphed into that old familiar pain...the pain you have when you lose a father...and how you lost them is inconsequential...even if they are still alive...that pain of loss...it still exists...even if it's disguise as a twinge...

"I just spoke to dad. He told me to let you know that he reads your blog and said you are a very strong woman and he is proud of you."

"He reads your blog"...

It's funny...I spent most of my 20s writing letters...letters in my head to him...never sent...some hit paper...but never sent...

"He reads your blog"...

I think in your teens you're rebellious...in your 20s wild...in your 30s you come to terms and in your 40s you forgive...you move on...you find the closest thing to peace that you can...

"He reads your blog and said you are a very strong woman and he is proud of you."

I wish he could have read the things  I wrote in my 20s and 30s...notice I didn't say teens...too harsh...and it was...but if I could have him go back and read some of it...he'd know I'm mad...he'd know I thought the world of him (what little girl doesn't)...and he'd know I remember...

"He reads your blog"...

So I guess I can let him know...(if he's reading)

Things I remember about my father...

I remember he used to bake bread...really delicious bread...it's the smell that I remember the most...

He had a really, small green car we called Kermit...

He used to flip me over his shoulder to carry me...

We used to go bowling...

We painted ceramics...

I thought he was so handsome...like Elvis!

We would watch "The Rockford Files"

I thought he was so handsome...like James Gadner!

We had a Winnebago!

His CB handle was "Ski"

He called me "short round"

"He reads your blog and said you are a very strong woman and he is proud of you."

I remember years and years ago...a good 10 years plus...I went to funeral of my friend Kay's father. It was a very sad funeral, her father was only in his 50s and she was a young girl in her 20s...

Not that losing a father at any point in life isn't devastating...

I have another friend who recently lost her father and even though he was older the loss is just as tragic...(and I think this still can apply to her because she was his world!)

Any way...after her dad died, Kay and I were talking. I was trying to bring her some comfort. I remember telling her to really hold on to the great moments she had with her dad.

My sentiments..."All my life all I ever wanted was to be daddy's little girl. I would have given anything to be daddy's little girl...for just one moment...to be daddy's little girl...you got to be daddy's little girl for over 20 years. Try remember that when you think of him."

And isn't that true of every little girl...wanting to be daddy's little girl...

But now some 30 years since, heck almost 40...I've learned to live with the fact that I am not...

My broken heart has been glued back together...

" He reads your blog"

" He is proud of you"

And my heart breaks...it's more than a twinge...to know that he is broken...

"He reads your blog"

I know physically he is broken...

But for the rest....

"He reads your blog"

I hope I can provide a little bit of glue...

And maybe...just maybe in those moments when he is reading my blog...in that moment...I am daddy's little girl.




Saturday, September 6, 2014

Just another ordinary day...sort of...Part III

August 28, 2009

As far as I can recall...it was just another ordinary day.

It was 2 days before my birthday (my "you waited too long birthday").

It was a Friday.

The plan...take the day off, go to the doctor and then head down the shore for a little b'day R&R.

The doctor...I had my first appointment with a fertility doctor to discuss Artificial Insemination.

My thoughts... I thought it was going to be easy...simple...you know like in the movies...

I walk into the doctor's office, declare my plans to have a baby on my own, the doctor does some kind of wave of his magic wand and...

PRESTO!! PREGNANT!!

Honestly that's pretty much what I thought!

I knew there would be some sort of testing and some kind of procedure but other than that...PRESTO!!

Boy was this ordinary day about to teach me lessons I didn't want to learn.

August 28, 2009

On that day not myself nor the doctor knew how this was going to end...because the journey...that long and painful road I was about to travel... had only just to begin...without even knowing it, I had taken the first steps.

And the testing...well the testing had only just begun too!

I know they took massive amounts of blood that day and they introduced me to  "Wanda" - why yes the seemingly harmless but somewhat invasive dildocam used to perform the ever so devastating vaginal ultrasound.

On that ordinary day in August Wanda started her reign of terror, revealing  to me that I had a low AFC - antral follicle count - which basically means a low egg count...I didn't know on that ordinary day that it was an "out of" egg count...just low...

None of this seemed to spell DOOM until Dr. Doom declared I had a practically 0% chance of getting pregnant.

Turning all my days from ordinary to barely livable.

This one seemingly ordinary day was the start of what seemed to be endless...

Endless testing...

Endless cycles - 20 to be exact...

Endless pills....

Endless needles...

Endless tears...

August 28, 2009

Just another ordinary day turned into the dreaded marker of time...

Marking the endless days...

The endless weeks...

The endless years...

I had no idea that this one...seemingly ordinary day...just another ordinary day...would permanently changed who I am and the trajectory of my life...forever...

August 28,2014

5 years later the endlessness ended...

I held my daughter...I played with her...fed her...bathed her and put her to bed...

It was just another ordinary day...sort of...




Sunday, August 10, 2014

I know her too...

Dear Moms of Adopted Children ~ read the full article ~

"I’ve seen you cringe just a little when someone says your child is lucky to have you. Because you know with all your being it is the other way around.

But most of all, I want you to know that I’ve seen you look into your child’s eyes. And while you will never see a reflection of your own eyes there, you see something that’s just as powerful: A reflection of your complete and unstoppable love for this person who grew in the midst of your tears and laughter, and who, if torn from you, would be like losing yourself."


Wednesday, July 16, 2014

It IS beautiful...I think???

On my "private" Facebook group one of the girls posted a link to this:

A BEAUTIFUL DAY IN MAY | THE BIRTH OF MATILDA

Her comment: "Just wanted to share...it's beautiful"

My comment...or should I say reaction was:

"I don't know...that completely freaks me out and makes me incredibly sad at the same time"

My friend felt bad.  She posted an apology...she didn't have to. I know she didn't post it thinking this would be something that could be hurtful to me or to anyone else.

She posted it because she thought it was beautiful...

And it is...I think??

And it's the: "I think" that's making me incredibly sad...

The thing is many people will make references to pregnancy and childbirth and it will be something I know nothing about.

The private Facebook page is a Single Mom by Choice page. I am the only mom that has adopted. There is another mother that used a surrogate. I am not sure how she feels about pregnancy and childbirth, she has never mentioned it.

But all the other mothers gave birth to their children.

I am sure that they all (well at least no one's admitted to the contrary) think it's beautiful.

They've experienced it....I can't say the same.

I never got past 8 weeks...so I never REALLY got to experience pregnancy aside from some sore boobs and a little nausea...I never felt a kick or hiccup (Ladybug gets the hiccups all the time! It wonder if she did while in her birthmommy's belly?)...and I never felt a contraction or pushed or gave birth...and I'll tell you what...

Those pictures terrified me and made me incredible sad not because...well not only because of the obvious...but because seeing a little head coming out of her...FREAKS ME OUT!!

All I can think of when I look at that picture is "Oh God NO!!"

It doesn't seem natural and it's not beautiful...well at least not to me...

And that makes me incredibly sad...

Because it makes me think to myself...

Could that be it?

Could my inner reactions be why?

Why I never got past 8 weeks? Why I never gave birth? Because I don't find it beautiful?

I've felt this way as long as I can remember.  And I'm going to be honest here, I have the same visceral reaction to breastfeeding! (Please note - I am PRO breastfeeding...it just freaks me out!)

Even though I wanted it so desperately...

Could that be why?

The day I met my daughter the social workers brought me to this tiny, little room at the agency. In the corner of the room, turned so it could fit in the space, sat a rocking chair. A child's blanket laid across the back of the rocking chair.

They told me to sit in the chair.

I did.

I looked around the room. The social workers had set up children's blocks on the desk next to the rocking chair that said "Congratulations Michaela and Ladybug (well her real name) April 17, 2014.

My mother dressed in a bright orange shirt...bright orange because she read somewhere it is comforting to children...she stood behind the door that the social workers were about to carry my daughter through with her video camera posed and ready...

I sat there in this strange rocking chair, in this strange, little room with my name strangely spelled out in blocks and my mother wearing a strange, overly bright orange shirt...and I looked at my mother...no not to condemn her for her color choices...

I looked at  my mother and as a matter fact I said: "Could this be why?"

"I think so honey" my mom said with a smile..."I think so!"

I go into her room at night and I watch her. I can't stop watching her... and I know it doesn't matter.

I know it doesn't matter.

Just like pregnancy and childbirth...

It doesn't matter...

Just like the fairy tale of the guy and the dream of 2 kids...

It doesn't matter...

Your family...no matter what it looks like and no matter how it came to be...

That's what matters...that's what's beautiful...

That moment in that strange, little room at my adoption agency, with my mom in her brightly colored shirt poised with a video camera in hand as the social workers walked in carrying my daughter...it was beautiful...

But that doesn't stop me from wishing that I held her close to my chest the second she was born.

That doesn't stop me from wishing that her little head came out of my...well nope...nope...still freaking me out....

That doesn't stop me from wishing that I could see the beauty in that...first hand...

Thursday, June 12, 2014

Ungrateful?

There have been so many ways that I envisioned my baby shower.

And with each miscarriage and each failed cycle my visions kept fading away.

I even envisioned what my baby shower would be like if I adopted and I mentioned it to mom, my sisters, my BFF M2. It would be a "Meet the Baby Shower".

But I guess that's all I could really picture...a title or a declaration of what it would be...

But envisioning that day coming true....

Walking in a seeing everyone who came out to celebrate.

Envisioning  who was going to be there? The hugs...the joy...the congratulations...the amount of love and support I would feel...

No...there was no way to envision that.

And I still can't "see" it clearly...even though it happened.

We called it a "Sip and See" and the amount of love and support...it's indescribable.

It is a moment that I feel like I watched instead of participated in...

It's a sense...an emotion...an overwhelming feeling of gratitude!

At the Sip and See...my baby shower...one of my best friends from childhood, she has two teenage children but she also had several m/c's and one late term. She came up to me at the shower and said: "It makes it all worth it doesn't it...Well, not really! We could have totally done without the other shit but you know what I mean."

Yeah I knew what she meant...

The other day I had my annual checkup with Dr. O my gynecologist.

Dr. O is one of my favorite doctors. The man that I wanted to deliver my baby but instead performed my D&C.

When I confirmed my appointment I asked the receptionist if it was okay that I brought my daughter.  She responded yes, but  I am sure I confused her.

When I got there, there was a surprising number of children in the waiting room. This is something that would have crushed me a few months ago. Seeing women with their children...and it wouldn't have matter if their child was well behaved or throwing a tantrum...if she was put together or thrown together...seeing women with their children as I sat there alone, having another test or another period to remind me...

And in the waiting room (as expected; he is an OBGYN) were some pregnant women...

It was still hard.

I still looked with envy, hurt and pain.

And as I looked with the eyes of a wounded warrior at the pregnant bellies...directly across from Ladybug was a woman, by herself, looking at her.

Was she me a few months back? Walking into the worst place on Earth...the OBGYN! Knowing you will encounter all that you long for...

In that moment I was grateful. Grateful that my daughter was next me...

But what I didn't feel was gratitude that I can't carry a child or gratitude that I would never experience pregnancy...

It was like my friend said: "Yeah we could have done without that other shit!"

From the moment I started pursuing adoption people would say to me "Oh as soon as you adopt you won't hurt anymore", "That baby will make you forget all the pain" or "None of it will matter" etc.

Meaning that my adoption was meant to take away the pain of infertility and miscarriages.

My response...

I would tell them that it's not my baby's job to heal me...I have to heal myself...

Is that easy?

No!

But I have been trying to heal well before my little angel showed up.

Am I healed?

No! (evident by my trip to the gyno!)

Infertility and pregnancy loss will always be a part of me. And that I can live with...not being a mommy is what I couldn't live with...so in that aspect...Yes...she has healed me...she filled the hole in my heart that wanted to be a mommy...not the hole IF caused...and certainly not the hole in my heart that mourns my lost babies.

I could have done without the other shit...

And that brings me to one of the things that pissed me off (and still pisses me off) when I was stuck in my own private hell, when I was still in the trenches...I would read these blog posts of gratitude for Infertility.

It always came about a month after they reached the other side and it was always some sappy crap about "If I could have shaken the me back then..." blah, blah puke!

Of course these proclamations of unwavering gratitude ONLY come once that person had reached the other side. Happily holding their baby or their pregnant belly...declaring to the world their gratitude for Infertility.

Always after...I have yet to read a post where someone was grateful for the infertility while still in hell...

Am I ungrateful because I'm not grateful for the other shit?

I think I must be missing this overwhelming realization...

I keep thinking there has to be this incredible moment that brings you to your knees and floods you with this undying gratitude for something that's causes so much pain...and I'm missing it...

Because if I could go back in time...I would shake the me of back then and say: "Stop spending so much goddamn money!!"

I will tell you this...my heart is full with gratitude for my daughter... I have fallen to my knees sobbing over the miracle of it all...

I am grateful for many things...

I am grateful I survived!

I am grateful I never gave up!

I am grateful for the community of love and support that surrounds me.

But I'm still not grateful for my Infertility...

Not one teeny, tiny bit!            

Yeah...I could have done without the other shit...




Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Just another ordinary day...sort of...Part II

Mother's Day 2011

It should have been "just" another ordinary day...just another Mother's Day.

At the time Mother's Day was a day where I honored my mother by going to brunch and drinking mimosas!

My mom and I have always been close, so all I ever took Mother's Day for was..."just an another day"..."another day" to be with my mom.

My sisters both had children young so I can't even remember a big "ta do"  for their first Mother's Day. There absolutely could have been a big "ta do" but I was finishing high school and heading off to college...being a mother...celebrating Mother's Day...in my book NOT a big "ta do"...just another ordinary day!  So I wouldn't have even noticed...

I always pictured one day I would be the mom at Mother's Day brunch.  But having a longing for it...nay...I took it for granted. I guess I just always assumed that someday it would be me.

 My first miscarriage was so devastating that I spent that whole year determined to get pregnant again. I don't even recall that Mother's Day after my first miscarriage. I miscarried in March and it was now May. I was down but not out.  I still had hope...hope that someday I would be the mom at Mother's Day.  So it was just another day...don't get me wrong, I still mourned the loss of my baby and Mother's Day was a deafening reminder but I was sure the following year I would be celebrating Mother's Day as a mom... It still didn't sink in.

I never realized how much I wanted it or that there was an actual possibility...I mean a REAL possibility...that it might not ever happen for me until that following year...until Mother's Day 2011.

It was one year after my first miscarriage. If I didn't miscarry...this would have been my first Mother's Day. And a few months earlier I failed on my last IVF cycle with my own eggs.

It was hitting home and as I sat at my sister's house having brunch and drinking mimosas, it became painfully clear that this might not happen for me.

I had decided to put my adoption plans on hold and pursue donor eggs.

I remember sitting with my mom looking a photos of egg donors, noting how this one had my eye color or that one had my hair...another deafening reminder.

That Mother's Day 2011 was embarrassing and comical to say the least but what no one knew was that I spent my whole drive home crying...suffering in a pain of realization.

There was nothing ordinary anymore...nothing familiar was left.

But I followed through.

I pursued and 4 months later...I was pregnant...I was going to be a mom on Mother's Day!

Mother's Day was no longer going to be this deafening reminder...no longer this pain of realization...it was going to be "just another ordinary day"...just as it should be...

It was going to be my day...or so I thought...by the time Mother's Day rolled around again. I had suffered two miscarriages and have gone through well over 10 cycles.

It wasn't just another ordinary day anymore...it was my own private hell...one where there wasn't enough mimosas...

I think it was then that I stopped picturing myself as a mom on Mother's Day...well, I guess it wasn't that I stopped picturing it...it was that I couldn't picture it...it all faded away...

Mother's Day 20whatever...Whatever the year..I was determined to make it just another ordinary day!

I tried not to think of my lost babies. I tried not to acknowledge the deafening reminders...the pain of realization...

Mother's Day 2014

I celebrated my first Mother's Day as a mom.

Is it the way I "assumed" it would be?  The way I pictured it?

Is it just another ordinary day?

No...

Nothing is the way I pictured it...

Nothing is the way this ordinary day should be...

It is extraordinary!

I think that is what makes it so special and so unbelievably magical...

And that will forever make it anything but "just another ordinary day"...



Photobucket

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Ladybug

Riding on the dashboard of my car is a Ladybug.  A stuffed Ladybug that sits there and watches over me as I drive.

A stuffed Ladybug who's once black hair has now turned blonde from the beams of sun shining through my car windshield for almost 20 years!

In 1998 for my 30th birthday (yea, y'all can stop doing the math! I'm no spring chicken!) I was finally able to buy myself my dream car! (and yes this Jersey girl can say y'all sometimes too!! I have southern relatives! and some southern roots!)

For my 30th I bought a 1994 Ford Mustang GT convertible with "5 on the floor" - that's a manual 5 speed transmission for those of you who were wondering what "5 on the floor meant" - a stick shift!

I am a firm believer that a Mustang should be 8 cylinders with a manual transmission.  Those who get a Mustang in a 6 cylinder and an automatic are missing the beauty of this classic muscle car! Ford shouldn't even indulge the pansy ass public by making the Mustang in a 6 cylinder automatic! To me it's sacrilege!

So in 1998 for my 30th birthday, I bought myself the car of my dreams in red of course!  My favorite color.  And to christen my beautiful car, I bought a black and red stuffed Ladybug and placed in the windshield. Ladybug has been my good luck charm, my protector, my travel companion, my safe journey as I gallivanted as far as my 5 speeds would take me.

And there on the dashboard of my dream car Ladybug stayed until 2008 when I sold my dream car and bought a new car, a Chevy HHR. I know a far cry from my beloved Mustang but I love this car too! And of course it is red and a stick shift. There are two mandatory things I need when buying a car: it has to be red and it has to be a 5 speed (well of course a 6 speed would do too!)

Ladybug fit in perfectly with my new car and there she sits to this day being my good luck charm, my protector, my travel companion, my safe journey.

On the day I got the call...tax day...there was Ladybug sitting on my dashboard, watching over me as I drove to my adoption agency.

My mom was meeting me there and then we were going to meet the birth mom and the grandmother together.

We met with the social workers first.

I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know how this was going to go...I mean really is there a precedent? Is there any way to prepare for something like this?

At first we went over formalities,  then the social workers painted the picture of when the birth mom and the grandmother saw my profile and how they felt such a strong connection.

And now it was time to meet them...once again I wasn't sure what to expect...and I was scared...would I live up to this strong connection...

As they walked through the door...I felt like I was watching a movie...a movie that I didn't know how it was going to end...

The grandmother walked in. She came right over to me and said: "I feel like I want to hug you!"

I said: "Oh please do!"

And we hugged...we hugged as if we knew each other from a time gone past...

The birth mom was carrying something and reached out to hand it to me.

I was an Easter basket with bunny ears in it. But this basket wasn't weaved or in the shape of a bunny...

No this basket was black and red and in the shape of a...

Ladybug!

As the meeting progress, they told me of all the things that connected them to me...I felt a familiarity that is unexplainable...I studied them...I knew them...they were so familiar...and yes there was a strong connection and things that were just (add a sigh in here!)...things that were just kismet...for lack of a better word...that's the only way I can explain it.

I didn't mention Ladybug to them. Even after we started talking about all the amazing connections...for some reason I kept Ladybug to myself...until...until...

Until the day I picked up my daughter...

I gave the social workers two charm bracelets. One for the birth mom and one for the grandmother...

Two charm bracelets with a single charm on it...

a Ladybug...

I know they know...

And I want them to know that right now...sleeping safely in her crib...is our little Ladybug!


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Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Just an ordinary day...sort of...

April 15th 2014

Tax day!

My taxes were already done. I did them a few weeks earlier and thankfully I didn't owe. Whew! Always good news.

So for me April 15th 2014 started out like any other day...sort of...

The day before tax day, Sissy L sent me a text message asking if I could bring her to the doctors in the afternoon, the afternoon of April 15th.

That meant I had to take off work.

I really wasn't happy about taking off work, but I have vacation days available and that night (dreaded tax day night) I had a big test at school...plus my sister needed help...so I took off from work.

Later that evening...the night before April 15th...Sissy L calls me and says she doesn't need me to drive her anymore...BUT I had already taken off from work.

I was annoyed.

I decided I would take the day off anyway...go to a Crossfit class in the morning and then study all day before my test at night.

So on April 15th 2014, I woke up and started my day...just an ordinary day...

I went to Crossfit. It was a killer class (I LOVE Crossfit!)

After class, I was talking to one of the owners of the gym when my cell phone rang.

I didn't recognize the number.  At first I thought it was business related. Possibly website issues that I wasn't in the mood to deal with...so I answered the phone the way I always answer it when I don't know who it is:

"Michaela speaking"

"Hi Michaela, this is Danielle from the Children's Home Society"

To be honest, I was slightly confused. This was my adoption agency calling but Danielle is not my social worker. Angie is. And with it being tax day and all...I thought they were calling for some financial paperwork I still owed them...but I mean come on...can't a girl have a few days after tax day to get her tax info in!

"Oh Hi, where's Angie?"

"She's on vacation. Can I put you on speaker phone?"

Speaker phone? I was completely confused and not at all prepared for what happened next.

"Sure"

"Great. I have Patricia here and we both just wanted to say...Hi Mom!"

I didn't understand what they were saying...and then it hit me...I'm placed!!

At approximately 10:30 am on April 15th 2014 I became a mom.

Danielle and Patricia went on to tell me that a birth mom and the grandma picked me to be placed with a beautiful 9 month old little girl.

And they wanted me to meet the birth mother and grandma that day...at 3:15...in less than 4 hours...

I think the first thing I said (who knows why!) is: "I have a big test tonight! I have to call my professor!"

Followed by: "I have to call my mom! I have to call my mom!"

I couldn't speak. I couldn't form sentences!

Then Patricia said something to me that will forever stay in my heart...she said...

"Michaela breathe! They don't want to meet you to decide if they want you. They have already decided you are the one. They want to meet you to share in your joy!"

Every time I think of that and every time I think of my meeting with these amazing women I feel a love, a bond, an undeniable, unexplainable connection...

Meeting them has changed me forever...in that meeting they told me that as soon as they saw my profile they knew I was meant to be this little girl's forever mommy...

Two days later on April 17th 2014 I brought my daughter home.

I am a mommy!

I am her forever mommy!



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Sunday, March 30, 2014

Walking the mile Part II...

There are roads we must take.

Paths that we must follow.

Some are by choice, some by chance and some because we have no choice.

Those are the hardest to walk.

The ones where you have no choice.

There is power in choice...but when it has been taken out of your hands...when you have no choice...you have no power...

That's when you crawl.

That's when the slightest movement forward has drained you of all you have.

I will tell you this...right now I am barely crawling.

And although I said I wasn't going to give Mr. Selleck any more billing here I have to...

What he did to me is what keeps me crawling...I must work on standing...

His actions, his words, his betrayal, his lies...have all but crushed me to the ground.

And as I use every last bit of strength I have to move one inch...

It makes me wonder how my actions may have caused others to walk miles they didn't want to...

And it makes me wonder how my actions may have been detrimental to their ability to walk...

Causing them to crawl...

No one wants to be responsible for the pain and suffering of others...but when it comes to the matters of the heart is there really any way to avoid that?

What Mr. Selleck did was extreme...and I keep thinking about my behavior in the past that may have warranted such harsh retribution...

This isn't the first time I have had thoughts like this...I have many times wondered if at certain times in my life, even though I was truly sorry, if at those certain times when my actions weren't of the utmost moral standards, if due to those times my karmic debt still hasn't been paid.

And I know this sounds weird but this is a character flaw of mine...being too sensitive and too hard on myself...because I think deep down inside I have this notion that somehow I must have done something to deserve it...

The same with my infertility and miscarriages...I feel that somehow I deserve it and I just want my debt paid...

So relationship wise...do I feel that I deserve what Mr. Selleck did to me?

I think if I am going to figure this out, honesty is a good place to start.

The most important person that I have to be honest with is myself.

About two years ago on Facebook I received a friend request.

That request was from the guy in college that I had "the affair" with when I was still in a relationship with my High School Sweetheart.

That request made me pause...pause and think...think back to a time, a time where I wasn't as loyal and faithful as I should have been.

A time where I was learning what kind of person I wanted to be but maybe not always practicing those traits or making the best choices.

It made me reflect. Reflect on everything that happened back then...

It's amazing how much you don't remember!

And amazing how much you do...

Funny, I remember where he lived and what his place looked like from back in time...

There have been many times over the years when I drove into that area, I would purposely turn up his old street just to drive past his old place...

And I remember when I told him that I was ending the affair.

He was standing at my front door and I was explaining how my High School Sweetheart loved me and I wasn't going to leave my High School Sweetheart.

As I went to shut the door in an act of finality, he pushed it back open and said: "He loves you...I love you!"

Was that the moment when I couldn't make sense of my feelings...when I couldn't make sense of his feeling or my High School Sweetheart's feelings...

The moment where I realized what I had done...to all of us...

The moment when I knew I had to walk away??

I don't know...

See after that I don't really remember that much...

Except that one day...I think months later...he showed up at my work.

By that time I was with my sailor and I am not even sure how the conversation went...

I feel horrible that I can't remember what I said...

Was I mean? Was I compassionate? Did I apologize?

Maybe that's what this is all about...me wanting to apologize...to tell him that although I had strong feeling for him, there was no way I could have loved him because I didn't love myself. Because I was too busy hating myself for what I had done...and he was a part of that mess...that mess I had to clean up and move on from...

But seriously some 20 plus years later...do I even own him an apology?

The answer is: "No". I don't owe him an apology. I don't owe him a damn thing.  He knew I was with someone else and he pursued me anyway. Unlike Mr. Selleck who played on my every hope and dream, whose lies and deception were hidden by songs of I love you...I never made him promises that I was going to leave my High School Sweetheart  for him and I never made him promises of love...

BUT yes, what I know now, a lesson that I painfully learned back then is that it was my job to say "No thank you" to him when he made those advances and I didn't. I didn't and that in turn only caused pain for all those involved: myself included.

So no I don't owe him an apology.

So why? Why think about? Is this because Mr. Selleck came along and trounced on my heart?

No this has been on my mind for a lot longer than Mr. Selleck...

No this is something that has gone in and out of my conscious for 20 plus years... that moved to the forefront with a simple friend request.

My feelings of having done something to deserve all the pain that I have been through has compelled me to revisit the past...to revisit him...to tell him it was nothing he had done to deserve the mess that I made when I gave in to his advances...

Maybe it's me trying to release the ghost...

And maybe, yes, there is a part of me that wants to apologize...not because I think I owe him an apology but because I am sorry and it would be something I would like to hear...and really isn't that how you move forward and release the ghost??

By acknowledging it's presence...accepting your part in its creation...and saying I'm sorry...

So relationship wise...from my past...do I feel that I deserve what Mr. Selleck did to me?

No!

There is nothing I have done in the past that made me deserve the heartache that Mr. Selleck has caused me...

There is nothing I have done in the past that makes me deserve that heartache of infertility and miscarriages.

So as I am forced onto this path...

As I am learning to stand...

As I walk my mile...

Maybe by accepting the fact that I did nothing to deserve this and truly believing it in my heart...

Then maybe at the end of my mile there won't be an electric chair...

Just a tiny ray of redemption...


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Friday, March 7, 2014

Maybe I'm Amazed Part II

I will be honest. There came a point when I wanted to stop telling the story of Mr. Selleck.

In my head I am completely done with him...I just wish my heart would get the memo.

I wish my heart would stop making my head go over every little detail of every moment we spent together trying to find a reason.

I am revisiting every word he said to me.  Reliving every moment we shared trying to figure it out.

Looking for that elusive fucking reason.

Just once I want a fucking reason!

Seriously! The last 4 1/2 years of my life have been the most painful so did  I really need this dick to come across my path!

REALLY!

What is the fucking reason for that!

So God, the cosmos, the universe or whatever thought: "Hey I don't think her hopes and dreams have been shattered enough...let's make her think she's met the one and then rip her heart out! Yeah, that should do it! Bwahhh haaaahaa!"

That is why I wanted to stop telling the story.

It hurts too much.

I'm driving myself crazy!

By continuing the story I am still giving him life.

He doesn't deserve life...at least not in my life.

The reason I keep reliving it?  The only thing I come up with is that I am still in shock.

I am still amazed!

I actually had a reader comment that they are no longer going to follow my blog because they liked it better when I wrote about the pursuit of family through adoption and other means.

The hard part is, when you stop doing treatments and you are an adoptive parent in waiting...there isn't much action...just a lot of waiting.

I have now been waiting for 2 years.

This month I will be doing my homestudy for the 3rd time and well...that's another thing I am amazed about.

I knew I would probably have a longer wait but I never thought I'd hit 2 years...

You start to feel like it is never going to happen.

Kinda like meeting the guy...I had given up on that ever happening and then...

When I met Mr. Selleck I was in cycle.

I had a transfer and I was waiting for the results.

Mr. Selleck knew none of this until I had my chemical pregnancy.

It's funny...when I got that positive pregnancy test I thought: "Wow I finally met a guy I really like and he's probably going to run when he finds out I'm pregnant."

But I didn't care...I didn't care if he ran...I was pregnant!

I'm amazed that I actually believed I could have a viable pregnancy...

Isn't it amazing that even when you've yet to have a viable pregnancy...when all of your pregnancies have ended in miscarriage...those two lines send your head and heart right off into Wonderland!

It's a false promise...like the words of Mr. Selleck that keep echoing in my head...only there to make you believe and then rip it away...

Maybe I'm amazed that I had any hope left.

I even entertained the idea that I might finally have everything I ever dreamed of...the guy and the baby...oh you silly little girl...

When my pregnancy turned out to be chemical, I foolishly thought the reason could have been Mr. Selleck...once again oh so wrong...

I'm pretty sure it's because THERE IS NO FUCKING REASON AND NOTHING IS MEANT TO BE.

It's just all random crap...to believe otherwise would make it all too cruel...

Maybe I'm amazed that I fell for it again...all that hope had to offer...I soaked it in...

I'm amazed I let hope fool me again!

So, I was going to continue with the story of how hope in the form of Mr. Selleck fooled me again.  There's definitely more...

I have titles and started writing blog post on how it's been being without him...life experiences that relate to this...on and on...

But...

The day after he amazed me...the very next day...he put up a dating profile...and a few weeks later I heard through the grapevine that he started dating someone new and was proclaiming his undying love on the 2nd date...

On the 2nd fucking date!

I am amazed!

Beyond amazed!

The funny thing is (well nothing is really funny right now) that when Mr. Selleck told me he loved me after we had been only dating for 2 months I questioned it! I told him I thought it was too soon and I was afraid he might be a player...and now he's proclaiming his love after 2 dates!

It kills me! The thought of him being that way with someone else...kills me...and I know that some would think this information would make me feel better...knowing that he is just crazy...but it doesn't...it doesn't make me feel better...it makes me feel insignificant...like everything was nothing...

I am amazed!

But I will say it again...he no longer deserves life in my world.

His character is being written out of the script.

I will try to put him out of my mind and every day he will begin to fade away.

Like an artist erasing a character from a sketch, all that will be left is the faint trace of what could have been...

I'm heartbroken and there really isn't much I can do about it but wait it out...

I'm going to try to refocus my energy, spend some time with me and remind myself of how amazing I am.

I am amazing!

I'm an amazing woman with a broken heart.

It will mend.

Because there is one thing I've learned over the years, a broken heart sucks...there's no way around that

But amazingly...

 In time it will heal...(I hope!)





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Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Maybe I'm Amazed Part I

When Mr. Selleck was standing outside my door on New Years Day, I had no idea what was going to happen with us but by the end of the night I was certain we were in it for the long haul...oh how wrong I was!

Now I'll be perfectly honest, I am not even sure what he said or what I said when he first came in.

I think I ran to hide my vibrator...

I know he said something about it being hard to love him...really!?...what a bunch of self indulgent, self stroking crap!

But trust me I wasn't thinking that at the time. To be honest I have no idea what I was thinking...probably because I wasn't thinking...my heart was in control.

I know we talked about New Years Eve. I was very upset about New Years Eve.

He told me he ended up going over his ex's...now I know this sounds bad but it wasn't his recent ex. This was the ex he had his daughter with and they have been broken up for 13 years.

Plus she has a boyfriend, who was there.

It wasn't the fact he went there that bothered me. He actually goes there all the time. His daughter lives there.

It was the fact that he didn't spend New Years Eve with me.

Then he goes on to tell me that he behaved poorly there! He drank too much and made a scene.

NOT GOOD.

But everything I questioned...

Everything I asked....

He apologized and reassured me COMPLETELY.

He was 100% with me!

His "I love you's" were non-stop.

He kept telling me over and over how much he loved me. How much he needed me and how I was his best friend.

He would say just that: "I love you! You know that right! I love you. You are my best friend".

Over and over again he would say it:

"I love you! You are my best friend."

He would take my hand and hold it...repeat "I love you...you know that...you are my best friend...you know that..."

Stroke my face...and repeat "I love you...you know that...you are my best friend...you know that..."

Examine my face...kiss me..."I love you...you know that...you are my best friend...you know that..."

And he sang to me...

The song he kept signing: "Maybe I'm Amazed"

It was beautiful.

It was close.

It was intimate.

We talked...I questioned it happening again...him needing space.

He said: "This time next year we will see how many times it's happened...zero!"

He brought up marriage again and Vegas.

We started planning a trip "to some place warm".

It was all future tense.

It was all us!

And as far as New Years Eve went...we had it out...

He was really upset about getting drunk at his ex's and he was wondering how to handle it with his daughter.

So I told him that on my end I would let him off the hook for New Years.

And I did let him off the hook.

He even went as far as calling his ex and telling her that he would be coming over...coming over with me. That we would pick up his daughter and take her out to dinner. I could hear the whole phone conversation he was having with his ex and his daughter, how he was including me in the plans.

I told him that I felt that maybe he should go alone and he said no. "I want you with me. I need you with me." and so I said I would go with him.

Those plans never came about.

2 days later at 7 am in the morning Mr. Selleck declared that he needed his space again.

His exact words: "Oh yeah. I'm going to need some space again and that includes seeing other people."

Just like that!

"Oh yeah. I'm going to need some space again and that includes seeing other people."

I was in shock!

I was amazed!

"You're telling me this now at 7am when I have to go to work!"

His reply: "There's never a good time to say it."

I think I wanted to punch him but I was in too much shock to form sentences never mind throw a punch.

The sentences I was trying to form were coming out all jumbled...

"How could you...after this last week...the I love you...the best friend..."

His response: "I was in a very emotional place and needed you."

*So you used me and now tossing me to the side?!? - of course this was something I didn't say...

I wish I wasn't in such shock. I felt like I couldn't breathe...struggling to keep my head above water and Mr. Selleck kept pushing me under...

There was no clarity in the moment. Everything was so surreal. Like he was this stranger standing in front of me saying: "But I still want to see you!"

He still wanted to see me (yeah right! douche bag!).

He said: "I know you don't do that but I want you to think about it. Think about it. Consider it. I'll come over tonight (it was our Wednesday) and we'll talk about it."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing!

Oh yes...I was amazed!

The last sentence I did form, my last words to him as he walked out the door were very clear:

"You know this is over right!".

That is the last time I saw Mr. Selleck.

I text him later that day and told him not to come over. There was nothing left to say...

Maybe I'm amazed at how quickly his feelings changed.

Maybe I'm amazed at how casual and nonchalant he was about it all.

Maybe I'm amazed at how little his words "I love you" meant.

Maybe I'm amazed that I was in bed with a total stranger and never noticed.

There are so many things that I am amazed about what happened, but I guess the one that gets me the most is I am amazed at how much this hurts.

Because if there was one thing that I thought I got out of the last four years of struggling it was that I've become immune to hurt...




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Friday, February 21, 2014

The healing powers of a Stromboli!

When Mr. Selleck text me that he need some alone time...I was concerned...but I didn't think it meant we were breaking up. All I thought was that he was pulling his crap again and it would blow over.

He had told me he wasn't feeling well a few days before. Sometimes this happens to him where he gets dizzy and vertigo. It stems from the fact that he's had Lyme disease three times.

His text was matter of fact: "Hey, you're right I haven't been myself. I have been feeling dizzy, anxious and depressed. I'm just regrouping that's all."

Okay...no biggie right....

Right?

The words of the physic were ringing in my head:

"He will need to "go off" on his own sometimes...have these little "trips" ...Don't worry...Give that to him...He is with you 100%!"

Right!

And it was fine for the first day...

the second day...

We were texting but he sometimes wouldn't respond for hours and that was driving me nuts.

New Years Eve was approaching and his delayed responses were now not only driving me nuts but pissing me off.

It wasn't nice...it wasn't fair and actually it was down and out rude!

I was being the most understanding, patient, compassionate person and he was treating me rude!

Flat out rude! And of course I let him know it was rude!

He text me asking me not to be upset. Saying how much he cared...blah...blah...

All I wanted to know was about our plans for New Years Eve.

I gave him the out. I told him we didn't have to go to my friend's house for New Years. We could stay home. I just wanted to spend it with him...

He text me to go alone.

I was crushed.

I want a boyfriend who would do anything to be with me...and Mr. Selleck...Mr. Selleck just told me to go alone...

And I did...go alone...

And I had a great time!

And I drank too much which led to me sending a drunk text to Mr. Selleck and then passing out.

I woke up in the morning to a text from Mr. Selleck: "Happy 2014 babe...let me know when you get home"

I was Hung Over! (with a capital H and a capital O).

I didn't go home until later that afternoon and I waited an hour to text him I was home.

He didn't respond!

Confusion and a hangover led me to make one decision...

I needed a Stromboli.

Right now the only thing that would cure this hangover was a Stromboli.

I placed my order for my Stromboli. I couldn't wait for my Stromboli to get there! I needed it's magical powers.

But I did have some time to kill so I decided it was a good time for a little "me alone" time...wink...wink...

Basically I decided to pleasure myself while I was waiting for my Stromboli...hey don't judge...I hadn't seen Mr. Selleck in 4 days and I am a woman in my 40s...which basically means that I now have the sex drive of a 18 year old boy...a constant (and I mean constant!) desire ;)

Plus I had 40 minutes to kill...or so I thought...

Just as things were getting good the doorbell rang!

Wow my Stromboli came quick!

I ran with excitement...et um...not that kind of excitement...to the door to get my Stromboli.

I am sure my face was flush...yes from that kind of excitement...but I didn't care...I needed the hangover healing powers of a Stromboli more than I needed to finish what I had started...

I ran down the stairs, flung the door open and there stood Mr. Selleck...

A wave of disappointment came over my face as I said: "Oh...I thought you were my Stromboli"

Then I asked him the question I was wondering for the last 4 days: "Are we breaking up?"

His reply: "I don't think so...can I come in?"

"Sure. But I'd rather have my Stromboli!"

Mr. Selleck came in...and didn't leave for 6 days.

My Stromboli also came...I shared it with Mr. Selleck.

It cured my hangover and things between me and Mr. Selleck.

In the 6 days that me and Mr. Selleck were holed up in my condo, we didn't get dressed for 2 days.

2 full days of nothing but nakedness, sex, kissing, sleep, talking and cuddling...tons of talking and tons of cuddling.

On the 3rd day, when the snow finally stopped, we finally took a shower, put clothes on and went out to get food and alcohol.

We stopped at the local pizza place where I always get my pizza and of course my Stromboli but this time instead we got a calzone.

Maybe that's where we went wrong....

Calzones just don't have the healing power that Stromboli's do!

Because by the 7th day...Mr. Selleck and I ended our relationship...for good this time...and there isn't a Stromboli big enough...


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Sunday, February 9, 2014

Tom Hanks...oh so predictable!

To say everything was "the way it should be" with Mr. Selleck or "perfect" would be a lie.

The truth is I didn't know exactly how things were between Mr. Selleck and I.

It seemed like we were "back together".

But we never really discussed what "We'll work it out" entailed.

And I was afraid to ask.

Which is really crazy considering I am a "tell it like it is" kinda a gal and I usually have no problem with getting to the bottom of things.

I guess I didn't want to know the answer.

I just wanted me and Mr. Selleck to be amazing...the amazing I knew we could be...the amazing we should be...

So I didn't ask.

But there was one thing I did that I probably shouldn't have...

When I had made my decision to break up with Mr. Selleck I went back to tried and true...I text Tom Hanks.

Tom Hanks was a guy that I went on one date with after the first time Mr. Selleck and I broke up.

He was safe, he was reliable...he just didn't give me butterflies....

He wasn't my Mr. Selleck....BUT...we had a good first date and I thought if Mr. Selleck was out texting other women maybe I should see what's out there for me...

I did not tell Mr. Selleck any of this...

Did I do it so I could feel a release on the grip Mr. Selleck had over me...I don't know...did I do it because deep down inside I still felt like that abandoned little girl who learned that leaving first hurts less...I don't know...was I trying to walk away...I don't know...but whatever the reason...if any were the case, it back fired.

After another date with Tom Hanks. A good date. We said goodbye at the car with a little peck on the lips...I got in my car and proceeded to cry the whole way home...I mean sob!

I don't know what it was that triggered it.

The peck on the lips Tom Hanks gave me?

All I know is it wasn't what I wanted. This might be what Mr. Selleck wanted...nothing too big...nothing serious...but it wasn't what I wanted.

All I wanted was Mr. Selleck.

But not at the expense of me.

This...this...whatever this was...it was not working out.

It's not who I am.

And I learned that a long time ago.

It was the week before Christmas and Mr. Selleck and I were spending another amazing night that consisted of too much talking, too much wine and too much sex.

He started asking me what I wanted.

"What do you want?"

I replied: "What do you want?"

I really didn't want to play this game.

I wasn't sure where he was going with this...

So I responded: "I don't want to be dating"

He was surprised: "You've been dating?"

And I was confused...did he now what something "serious"...something bigger...

"Two dates.  I'm trying to give you what you want."

Quietly he said: "I don't want you dating."

I ended the conversation with: "Well then, I guess we have figured out what you don't want."

And started our love making on the living room couch.

The very next night while sitting on that same couch watching TV, Mr. Selleck blurts out: "We should get hitched!"

Now, one could say that his outburst could be caused by the fact that Mr. Selleck and I had a habit of too much talking, too much wine and too much sex but this was before the ritual had even begun...

But this time...this time...instead of contemplating the validity of his words, I turned and with a slight smile said:

"Don't worry baby, I'll let you back pedal out of that one!"

I never saw Tom Hanks again. I feel bad about that.

But I was certain Mr. Selleck and I were moving off of shaky ground.

We both had family plans for Christmas but planned on spending the night before Christmas Eve together as "our" Christmas.

And we made New Years Eve plans.

We were moving off of shaky ground...but on to what?

On "our" Christmas, Mr. Selleck and I were supposed to exchange Christmas presents.  When he showed up he told me my present was at his house. He said it was too big to bring and something he put a lot of thought into...I couldn't wait to see what it was.

But I never did get to see what my Christmas present was...

Even though we had "our" Christmas, Mr. Selleck insisted that he wanted to see me Christmas night too. Of course I took that as a good sign in our relationship. We met late at night at my place.

The morning after Christmas, Mr. Selleck left my bed in a hurry...eerily in a hurry...our love making was in a hurry too (really this time it was more like fucking and not the good kind of fucking)...his getting dressed was in a hurry...eerily in a hurry...

The next day...a text...a text stating that he needed time to himself...but how much time...and what did that mean?

How much time??

Enough time that I never got my Christmas present and I never got a New Years Eve kiss at midnight either.

Because although Mr. Selleck was becoming predictable it wasn't the good kind of predictable...it wasn't safe and solid predictable like the Tom Hanks of the world.

And with Mr. Selleck's predictability came the unpredictable ring of my doorbell on New Years Day.


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Sunday, February 2, 2014

My Christmas Morning...

Mr. Selleck was on his way over.

I had decided that this would be our "one last time" goodbye.

I left the downstairs door open for him.

And as usual my heart raced as I heard him walking up the stairs.

My resolve to walk away from Mr. Selleck was fading fast.

The writing on the wall was barely visible.

I felt like I couldn't breathe without him.

He came in the door.

I didn't get up to greet him like I usually do.

I remained seated on the couch.

He walked over, leaned down and kissed me and then sat next to me.

All will was gone.  All resolve was gone. And the wall was blank.

I told him this could be our "one last time" goodbye.

Mr. Selleck agreed but then said that we can't count this time because he couldn't spend the night . He was having dinner with his daughter and had to leave soon.

I agreed that this time wouldn't count.

We made love.

Mr. Selleck left with the plans that he would come over on "our" Wednesday (a night we always spent together) for our "one last time" goodbye.

Later on in the evening, after he left his daughter, he text me to say good night.

He text me the next morning.

I wondered if he had read my letter.

The letter that I slipped into that little, plastic bag of his belongings.

He didn't mention it.

Had he not looked in the bag?

"Our" Wednesday was here. The night of our "one last time" goodbye.

I text him to ask him what time he was coming over.

He text back:

"Wow baby. I just read your letter. I haven't been nice. I am sorry. Are you sure you still want me to come over?"

I wasn't sure what to say.  I wasn't sure if I felt the same way as I did the day I wrote the letter. I secretly wished I could have somehow snuck into his house and stole it back.

But it was too late.

He read it:

"I am looking for my Christmas morning, my Easter Sunday, my 4th of July, my Thanksgiving day...my hours in the day, days in the week, weeks in the month and months in the year (42 years right) where I am with the one I think about the most, the one I love with all my heart and the one who is my family.

When we kissed I saw that, when we made love I felt that.

When we had sex whether it was soft and sweet or more erotic, I felt like we were opening up to each other on another level. A level others wished to achieve. 

But what I didn't know was that it was one sided. That you didn't feel the same.

When you came back (and even before then) you lead me to believe you felt the same and I believed you because it all felt so strong. 

No one says the things you did unless you mean it or you are so insecure you wanted to make sure you "had" me. 

And we know you didn't mean it. If you meant it, feelings like that, feelings that strong that should go behind words that strong...feelings like that don't fade in a couple of days or in a couple of weeks. Feelings like that are for keeps. 

I was "this close" to believing in my "meant to be".

But my Christmas morning, my "meant to be" wouldn't be texting another woman in the middle of my living room at 11 o'clock at night.

The only women you should be texting is your sisters, your mother, nieces, in-laws...

I could tell by that smirky smile on your face (which I can't get out of my head) and the way you laughed that you weren't texting any of the above and in that moment I saw you for who you are...and it's none of the things I felt...I've been duped. Feeling a connection that was only on my side. I feel like a fool and I am so hurt that you lead me to believe...

My meant to be...my Christmas morning...my everything...I wish it was you but it's not...and that breaks my heart..."

I stared at his text:

"Wow baby. I just read your letter. I haven't been nice. I am sorry. Are you sure you still want me to come over?"

I text back...

"Yes"

This time when he walked in the door I greeted him.

We didn't really talk.

We kissed passionately as he led me to the bedroom.

As we laid there entangled in each other I said:

"What are we going to do?"

Mr. Selleck put his hand on the side of my head, brushed the hair out of my face, ran his finger down my cheek and said:

"We'll work it out"

That next morning when we woke up in each other arms I knew Mr. Selleck and I were back together.

It all felt so right again...

Until...

Until Christmas morning...


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Sunday, January 26, 2014

Cemetery

I am pretty sure it is my "Been there! Done that!" attitude that lead me to confront Mr. Selleck over the "text heard round the world"

I have a really good bs meter!

After he left, I spent the night tossing and turning. In complete shock. I didn't sleep a wink. My brain was in overdrive.

The next day he text me that he was going out with daughter and would get in touch with me later and then put a LY (love you) at the end.

LY is how he ends his texts to me.  And I usually reply with a "ditto".

I didn't reply.

The next day, I sent one simple text.

I replied: "We need to talk"

I felt the only recourse I had was to break up with him.

It felt like such a "cheater" move for him to be texting another woman.

I ran it over and over and over again in my mind.

The smile that crossed his face when he read the text...

The laugh...

That is NOT "just" a friend...

My mind flashed images, like out of a movie scene, of every moment we spent together.

Remembering things he said and how he made me feel.

On one of our dates we went to an open house at an artist's home. As we explored the grounds we found ourselves inside this little chapel that the artist constructed. It was small and had all these strange statues everywhere.

We sat inside and kissed for what felt like forever! Actually there were people standing outside the chapel waiting to go in and look around but saw us kissing and didn't enter. It was a little embarrassing but in that "Ohh sweet love..." kinda way not a "get a room!" kinda way.

Walking around we met this really hip couple Carol and Rich. They met in the 60's in NYC's downtown theatre scene. They were this fun, sassy, cute couple that had been married for 42 years.

We instantly bonded with them and sat there engage in conversation for quite some time.

Later that night after we made love Mr. Selleck wrapped his arms around me, kissed the back of my neck and ear and said: "I want 42 years with you."

I said teasingly: "Why don't we work on 42 days first, then 42 weeks, then 42 months and then 42 years!"

We laid in bed calculating the date that each milestone would fall on.

His words from the fight kept ringing in my head...

"Not too serious?" "Taking things slow"

Those were his words about our relationship after I caught him texting...was I mistaken?

Talking about being together for 42 years...

Aren't those things you say when you are serious?

During our conversation with the hippest couple on earth, Carol said: "Are you two going to get married?"

Mr. Selleck's reply: "Well we were just in the chapel."

It was cute and sweet. Now that is a remark that you don't take too serious.

But mentioning purposing, urging me to try to get pregnant again...those are not things you say causally...that's serious shit!

This made me wonder about every remark he ever made and of course the biggest remark of all:

"I love you!"

Was he being not too serious about that too?

I saw the writing on the wall.

And it was written in red! Big red letters!

RUN!

There were other words starting to appear on the wall too: player, cheater, rebound...the words were light at first but becoming a darker red the more my mind focused on the wall.

I knew I had to break up with him.

My heart hurt. I truly thought he could be "the one" and he certainly led me to believe that too!

I put his belongings in a bag. It wasn't much...a toothbrush, nicorette gum, some bathroom products and some "bedroom" products (wouldn't you like to know!)...

I put them all in a plastic shopping bag and I slipped a note inside.

A note telling him how he made me feel.

My "goodbye" letter.

He responded back to my "We have to talk" text.

He wrote: "Do you want to meet at the gym?"

"Seriously?" I questioned.

He text that he didn't mean it as if nothing happened, he just felt it was a neutral place to talk.

I told him I was going to church.

He then suggested I meet him at the cemetery that his father is buried in. It is right down the street from my church.

I agreed.

I pulled into the cemetery and saw his car.

We both got out.

I walked over to him.

My heart was racing and hurting all at the same time.

With a shaky voice, I told him I couldn't be with him anymore and gave him his bag of stuff that contained  the secret letter.

He asked if we could be friends.

I said no.

He put the bag in his car.

Then we walked around the mausoleum holding hands and talking.

He told me that even though it was a flirtatious text he has no interest in her.  But on her end she has an interest in him.

*So what are you leading her on? Keeping her on the sidelines? - of course these are things I thought of later on to ask!

He then mentioned that it really is just a matter of how serious of a relationship, how big of a relationship he wants right now...

*Okay then don't say serious things!! Don't say BIG things! Once again something I thought of later to say...

He asked me if I wanted to go with him to see his father's grave.

I declined and said my goodbye.

When I got home I started to rethink everything.

I started to I feel like I completely overreacted.

Everything written in red on the wall was now transforming and fading.

It morphed into a plain, white wall, as the words disappeared,  I couldn't see the writing anymore. Unable to read.

I felt heartache...I felt uncertain of my actions when I was so certain before...

My resolve was fading just like the big red letters on the wall...

I felt like I just said goodbye to the best thing that's happened to me in a long, long time.

I sat in my living room in a daze and cried.

Just outside my window I heard the hungered wails of Sematary...my somewhat adopted stray cat.

I pushed open the window and called his name.

"Sematary!" "Sematary!"

There he was, looking up at me with those tortured eyes.

I threw a handful of food out the window.

I watched him walk over, trying to find each nugget in the grass to eat.

I'm not sure how long I stared at him scavenging for nuggets.

I closed the window.

Aimlessly  I walked around my condo. I walked over to my phone.

Slowly picked it up.

Looked at it.

More like studied it.

I sent one text:

"Come over"

An instant reply:

"I'm on my way baby"


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Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Men and Women...

I am a firm believer that men and women cannot be friends unless one important factor is removed from the equation.

Until that factor is removed from the equation it will always linger over the friendship with the possibility of either changing the dynamic of the friendship and igniting it or ruining the friendship all together.

And that factor is sex.

 It is a simple equation man + woman = sex.

Now I know we could say man + man or woman + woman equals sex too but for now we are dealing with the man/woman friendship conundrum.

The only way men and women can truly be friends is if the sex has been taken out of the equation or off the table!

There are a two sure fire ways sex can be removed from the equation:

The First Way:

One of you is gay!

This is the easiest way to remove sex from the equation and wonderful friendships can be had.

I lived with my gay guy for 6 years. We were Will and Grace before the show Will and Grace came out!

My "Will" was a great friend.  We had date night, produced plays together, pretend fought in the supermarket, acted out monologues, worked out, got drunk, cried, consoled, laughed, hugged, slept together...

Yes, we slept together but no sex...

My Will was afraid of thunder. So whenever there was a thunder storm I would get a knock on my bedroom door...

"Can I sleep with you?"

"Come on in!"

I actually recommend that every straight girl get herself a gay boyfriend! They are the best friends a girl can have!

They will never let you leave the house not looking your best! Even if it's only to go to the Home Depot!

And they will never have secret thoughts and/or agendas of trying to get you into bed.

It is the truest and best form of the man/woman friendship.

The Second Way:

You can have sex and realize your are better off friends. You have gotten over  the curiosity and/or tried the relationship and you realize friendship is the best relationship for the two of you.  Sex is now off the table and you can move forward as friends. You will no longer wonder.

The first acting classes I ever took was with a woman named Barbara. She taught at the New School in NYC and gave private lessons in her home.

I was 20 years old and full of hopes and dreams.

I started taking private acting classes with Barbara.

In the class was a handsome man... to me he looked like Sidney Poitier!

My Mr. Poitier! My Sidney was beautiful, talented, charming... and 10 years older than me.

He would say things like: "I have shirts older than you!"

Sidney became my friend and my protector. Taking care of me as I learned to brave this big city on my own.

But you see Sidney and I couldn't be "just" friends because we hadn't taken sex out of the equation yet.

Of course the moment came where the friendship moved forward and we had sex.

I can't remember exactly how long it took. I was somewhere between breaking up with my high school sweetheart and falling in love with my sailor.

I think Sidney and I only had sex once. Maybe twice but then we both went on to fall in love with other people. Me with my sailor and Sidney with a woman he worked with.

Both those relationships ended  but our friendship blossomed.

Sidney was my safe place.

Sidney always "named" my boyfriends.  Always with a "boy"...Sailor boy, Stockbroker boy, Bread boy (he wouldn't call him Breadman!)

He once told me the day he doesn't name him is the day I found the one.

I wonder what he would call Mr. Selleck??

 Sidney and I remained friends for many, many years...until one day...until one day my dear friend moved all the way across the country to the west coast, fell in love and got married...

And I will be honest...even though we removed sex from the equation early on...I still think that there was something more than friendship there...we did have more...I loved him dearly...

In reality maybe our story is more of a tragic love story than an amazing friendship story...because when it comes to men and women being friends, not only is it hard to remove the sex from the equation...it's hard to separate the "what if" or the "what we could be" out of the equation!

Now there are other ways that sex can be removed from the equation but the ones listed above are sure fire ways.

Age could also have something to do with it.

I have a dear friend and ex-business partner who is like a little brother to me (younger than my nephew!) so the friendship never had sex in the equation.

But for the most part if you are thinking: "Hey I have this guy friend and we are "just" friends..."

Chances are at one time or another both of you or at least one of you thought about it.

And more than likely secretly wants it.

You know the "just friends" until both of you are single and sometimes even when you're not.

I had a very good male friend who one day, after years of friendship....made the moves on me...we haven't been friends since...I miss him...

And it's because we NEVER took sex out of the equation.  So it festered over the years...until one day the "what ifs" and the "what we could be" took over.

This "confidant" friend thing is a load of bs too. If you are reaching out to a friend of the opposite sex to talk about your significant other you are "looking" for something outside the relationship. It might not (at first) be sex but it sure is a segue to it!

A good old hop, skip and a jump!

So when Mr. Selleck was in the middle of my living room at 11 o'clock at night texting someone with a smile and a laugh...I knew it wasn't his sister!

"Who are you texting?"

And after prodding he says: "My friend Lisa"

I can't really remember exactly what happened after that.  My mind only plays back certain moments.

We fought.

I think I threw a water bottle at him.

*Okay I know I threw a water bottle at him.

He didn't deny that it was a flirtatious text and he really didn't try too hard to smooth things over.

He actually said that he was taking things slow with us and didn't think things were that serious.

What?

I called him out on him mentioning marriage and his response was more shocking than his texting.

He declared: "When did I mention marriage?"

I tried to jog his memory and said: "When you said my "big decision"  would be having to decided whether I was going to say yes or no to your marriage proposal."

And he told me that didn't really count because he was mentioning it in reference to the psychic.

What?!?!?!??

I was floored.

After he left and even after I received his text stating that he wasn't going to let me say goodbye...I couldn't sleep...all I could think about was that he was sending another woman a flirtatious text...

Is she really "just" a friend?

Or a segue to the "what if"?

A segue to the "what we could be"...

A hop, skip and a jump to....

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