I had a blissful weekend. I was on cloud 9. Seriously, I’ve never been so excited to have a period. It was like I was finally a real girl. Weirdly, K thinks I’m nicer than I’ve been in months. I’m clinging to the hope that all these girly hormones will actually make a nicer, sweeter cck. It’s possible, right?
We went sailing and swimming. Having a gorgeous beach eight minutes from our driveway is almost dangerous. I say “almost” because after four weekends living here, this was our first foray into heavily salted, warm gulf water. And it was amazeballs. I think K is happiest when he’s on a boat – especially one powered by the wind. He had the biggest grin on his face – seriously, it was intoxicating to see him so happy. It’s amazing (understatement, over-used) to think of how lucky I am. I almost gave up on him – and damn, would that have sucked. I love our marriage. I’m going to try to really focus on that during this next phase of challenges. He lights me up in a way that I never thought was possible. I know I’m good for him (love that modesty), but what the world might not know – he is really really really good for me.
So, what else? A friend of mine is having her baby (maybe right this second) and it’s super exciting. I know she’s going to be a good parent – and I mean good in all the ways I hope I can be a good parent (which clearly means awesome – again, understatement and over-used). I am thankful for reconnecting with her – and amazed at the power of the internets.
Remember me talking about how exciting it is to have a period? Yeah, well. About that. My period actually stopped on Sunday evening. And it’s not really back. I’m supposed to go in for an ultrasound and blood test, and I think I need to call the doctor. Maybe one more wipe test. (Yes, that’s gross. Deal. We’re talking infertility up in here – it’s going to get grosser).
I also started reading this book: Every Drunken Cheerleader: Why Not Me? If you were a drunken cheerleader who got knocked up, please don’t take offense. I zipped through half of it last night — and while not amazing well-written (at least compared to my masterful wordsmithing), I really identified with the book. It’s honest – and as I read it (percentage by percentage – c’mon Kindle, that’s just dumb), I felt like I could breathe. Here I was – all twisted up about the period stuff. I’m scared that I won’t be able to give K a family. I’m worried that there’s something really wrong with me. I’m ashamed. I am filled with doubt.
All of that’s normal. And instead of feeling like I’m whining or that I’m the only one in the world going through this – which I know is totally not the case – I’m feeling a little bit better. I’m going to whine while I write, as opposed to whistling while I work. In no small part, this is blog is my journal. It’s not always going to be funny or well-written or smart. It’s going to be raw and emotional, sad and depressing, and gawd, I really really want it to be hopeful.
If you were keeping count at home, that’s six versions of awesome. I’m calling that a total win, doubt filled day or not.