Delusional Fantasies…


There are several happening right now.

First one happened last night when my daughter and I were at the beach in the evening. Right as we were leaving guess who I saw walking along the beach? You got it, the ex-fiance. Fuck! I ducked behind the ramp, but my dog had caught wind of his husky and took off to say hello to his long lost canine friend. Of course once he saw my German Shepherd bolting towards him and the two dogs chasing each other happily at warp speed on the beach, he began to look for me. He was with some girl so I thought he’d just wave and keep walking, but no, he actually approached me. I thought to apologize to my face, but no, it was just to engage me in conversation. His friend began to get frustrated with him taking so long talking to me so as she approached I asked if it was his girlfriend. He said no, but mentioned it was his ex (the one before me that he had a restraining order against because she’s an even more self-absorbed psycho than he is!)

“You know she just got out of spending 3 months in jail and her boyfriend broke up with her and got a restraining order against her, too.” I told him incredulous that he would be hanging out with her.

“Yeah, she was just telling me all about that.”

Fucking weirdos. They totally deserve each other. No wonder they lasted 5 years together. He would call the cops on her because she’s an alcoholic and would fly into these drunken rages, she’d go to jail and come out all sober and loving, until the cycle repeated again in a month. I’m telling you, this bitch has over 3 dozen mug shots online at the local county jail, and that’s just in this state. She’s got records in other states, too.

Anyway, he tells her he’s going to be a minute and she walks off to wait for him while he chats me up. We exchange basic information, you know, I ask him how his sobriety is doing, if he has a job and if he’s still living with his mom. Towards the end of our 15 minute conversation I share with him my good news about my pregnancy. I gotta hand it to him, he kept it professional and congratulated me and wished me the best.

Then I get a text at 2 am that says, “You really got me tonight. My heart just totally sank and shattered on the ground when you told me that.”

After several texts he elaborated that he had been holding onto the fantasy of us one day getting back together, and deep down he really held on to this idea. And then he went on to say that he wished he had never met me and that me having another baby with the donor was a deal breaker and to not ever contact him again.

I’ve already thanked my little fetus for doing what I wasn’t able to accomplish –finally getting rid of the ex from hell. At least the ex admitted to living in a delusional fantasy. Thank god my pregnancy allowed him to (finally) let go of the idea that we would end up together. I can summarize our entire relationship by just saying it’s really frustrating being with someone who misinterprets everything you say and do. ¬†And if that didn’t sum it up, then this does:



The other delusional fantasy is:

The one with my housemate. See, she’s Chinese. Like, from China. Like, moved to the States last year. So there’s a language and culture barrier, but we’re both ok with it. However, I mentioned to her my pregnancy and how it’s a sister to my daughter and she started asking me about my husband. Fuck.

I told her the truth, that we used to be married but we were really young and it didn’t work out. But then, you know, her look of confusion and the language barrier, and the cultural gap…I just kinda winged it. I told her that he lives and works very hard in another state (truth) but that he takes care of us and wants to be with us very much (lie). I thought that would be enough and the end of this conversation so that we could just sweep it under the carpet and be housemates and focus on dishes and schedules and stuff that people do when living together, but now she keeps asking me about my husband. So I tell her he’s working really hard and he’s doing good and very excited about the baby. That seems to make her happy. You know, because she gets on the phone and tells her mom in China about everything here. I realize my lifestyle is seriously deranged to a traditional Chinese woman and her family and they must have raised eyebrows about the house where their daughter is living. The only great thing about this situation is that my housemate needed to live in a house with no men, so my arrangement works well for her. Only females here!

The third delusional fantasy:

Is regarding a friend. This friend is very much in love with me and my daughter. This friend walks around in his life in a functioning shell of himself, but only comes truly alive when spending time with me and my daughter. We bring out the love, humor and emotion in him. He’s not used to feeling the range of emotions and it scares him, so he gets upset and angry. This friend is living in what can only be described as a fake marriage. For 8 years they did not tell their families that they were married. They have lived in separate states since almost the year they got married. They see each other a few times a year and maybe have sex once a year, if that. He stays with her out of some deranged misguided obligation. I say misguided because for personal reasons his obligation to me should weigh greater than to a woman who is basically a wife only by paper. His wife is a pretty woman and is a pharmacist, and could get another husband easily enough, and one who would probably treat her better (like live with her, be thrilled to have sex with her more than the obligatory once a year, and a million other things that loving couples do).

My stance is that if he can’t figure out an exit strategy, or is unwilling to, then aside from depriving us from becoming a true family with me and my daughters, he is unwilling to live in an alive state with a woman who ignites all the fires in his soul. Ultimately, I’ve stopped talking to him because it’s just too difficult for me to feel this way that I’m feeling. I feel like he’s choosing this fake wife over the potential for a real family. And it’s become difficult for me since my daughter has begun wanting a father figure to attach to. It’s become a knife in my heart.

All I can say is if he hasn’t learned the meaning of the word regret and hindsight by this point in his life, then there’s nothing I can say or do to sway him otherwise. He’s made enough bad decisions in his life to know how regret works. To not be a part of our lives, especially these precious baby years, will be the biggest regret of his life. He has the power to live a truth yet he chooses to live a lie. It’s why I can’t even talk to him anymore. He is the biggest love of my life, and I his. We do things for each other that no one else in the world could ever understand. It’s just a waste of a family. His wife can always get another husband, my daughter is growing up without a daddy. I’m sorry, but I care more about my daughter than his fake wife, and I feel that my daughter having a daddy is way more time-sensitive than the other. His wife can always remarry. My daughter can’t redo her childhood.




Eating out.


As a part of my, “Living lean, living leaner” fiscal plan, I haven’t been eating out unless absolutely necessary or if I have a gift card to the restaurant. It’s given me a new perspective on the food industry and how detached we, as consumers, are to what we get and what we pay for it. What I mean is, I can buy 12 oz. of vegetarian fed all natural buffalo meat –buffalo that were raised without antibiotics or growth hormones and never fed any animal by-products. And I can buy it for $9.99 when not on sale. I can buy organic chicken for less. So, when I go to a steak restaurant and see a steak for over $25, my first reaction is, “WTF? It’s not even organic?! How the hell can they charge that much?!” It’s making me not order meat meals when I eat out at restaurants. Typically it’s the other way around –when people go out to eat, they go out to splurge and eat a fancy meat meal. But, it doesn’t make much sense. It makes as much sense as ordering spaghetti at an Italian restaurant for $8.95 when you can make organic spaghetti at home for $2.88 (a pound of pasta is $1 and I found Organic pasta sauce at Wal Mart for $1.88). Eating out at restaurants just makes no sense unless it’s exotic ethnic foods or a meal that I’m totally incapable of making at home. Basically, the less I eat out, the less I want to eat out. Especially when I can prepare a similar organic meal at home for a fraction of the price. And by preparing it at home, I know exactly what goes in it and how much. I’m so leery of what restaurants are using for food these days. You don’t know where restaurants get their vegetables or if everything comes pre-made and frozen from a factory, or if they have a source for quality ingredients. Don’t get me wrong, I still love to eat out, but I’m paying more attention to what I’m getting and how much they’re charging. Restaurants have always charged exorbitant prices, that’s nothing new, but these days organic options should be available for what they’re charging for conventional food.

Picture Perfect!



Due to my age, the incidence of chromosomal abnormalities increases, so I opted to do genetic screening. For my first pregnancy with the donor, it didn’t matter if the child was special needs or not, I was having that baby, so I opted not to undergo any genetic tests. When the ex-fiance and I became pregnant, we discussed it and we decided that if we would have a special needs child we would be the best parents to that child we could be. However, I’m currently a single mom to a toddler and I don’t receive any child support and I don’t have a lot of family emotional support, so things are different for me. Although I’d be willing to parent a special needs child, at this point in my life it would be very hard for me to manage and therefore a big disservice to that child and my current one. I just don’t have the support or means at this point. Therefore, I opted to do genetic screening. Thankfully the tests came back negative for all the Downs syndromes. And, because genetic disorders are sex-linked, the Free Cell DNA genetic test also includes a gender reveal. I opted for the gender reveal, of course! For my first baby I needed to have a girl because the one I was forced to abandon at 5 months pregnant was a girl and I just needed to get her back and have her again. And I got my little girl. I got her back. My prayers were answered and I stopped being haunted and tortured by the events of my past. For this baby, I was actually cool with the idea of either a boy or girl, but it would be nice to recycle all of my daughter’s old stuff and hand it down. Which, I will be able to do! Indeed, I’m having another little girl! I guess the donor and I are good at making girls! This will be our 3rd one! I couldn’t be happier! I’m beyond thrilled! I feel joyous!!! The donor is Indian (dot, not feather) and has dark hair and dark eyes and olive skin. Clearly my daughter takes after me and is a total “mini-me.” I wonder if my next daughter will take after my blonde hair and hazel eyes or if she’ll take after the donor! And, since I’m using the same donor my daughter will have a true biological sibling! I’ll be announcing in the next week or so to family and friends, even though it’s still early, I’m currently over 10 weeks along and feeling very optimistic and just so incredibly happy!!!

Here are some announcement pics for you to enjoy!

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My Freakinonomics…and one last final rant.


I have set a pretty steep financial challenge for myself that will take an extended length of disciplined daily accountability. I’m hoping to pay off my mortgage in 5 years while earning a fraction of what I used to earn, and whilst raising kids without receiving child support, welfare or any help from my (nonexistent) rich relatives. There are a lot of things I’m doing to accomplish this, and a major one, which will allow me to make an extra mortgage payment every month, has just been accomplished! I *finally* found a renter for my 3rd bedroom. She just graduated as an Acupuncturist, she holds 2 undergraduate degrees and her Masters. I had put an ad up back in February, but the majority of responses I received were from complete degenerates. Most of them didn’t even warrant a reply. So I took my ad down. And then I went on vacation. And then I returned freshly pregnant and dealing with a huge amount of horrible emotional stress at an extremely delicate time during my pregnancy from the recent guy I had been dating who dissed me for some chick who looks like a $5 back alley ho, but whatever, some guys like chicks who look like an easy kill. Maybe it’s a self-esteem thing, who knows. All I know is I was the best he was ever going to get. Nonetheless, some guys date women who are the best they’ll ever get, and some guys prefer to date girls who they are the best that girl is ever going to get. Know what I mean! Anyway, it was a horrible thing what he did to me, and he “dumped” me over text message! I had to call him and confront him over the phone and he just expected me to be immediately cool with it. I’m so happy I didn’t miscarry as I was so depressed about how he handled things and the choice he made. He seriously put me through a huge stress at the most sensitive time during my pregnancy, and I don’t just mean “dumping” me. He had a pattern for lying and then acting so weird it was obvious something was wrong, which would make me confront him and then he would come clean. Happened numerous times and all during my first few cherished weeks of being newly pregnant. Very stressful and just total drama! Prior to dating me, his ex-fiance had become pregnant twice from him and both times she miscarried. It’s tragic and when he told me, my heart immediately went out to her. Now I’m beginning to think –based on what he did to me, how he treated me and the stress he caused me, maybe he did dickish things to her that he doesn’t even realize, but which caused the poor girl to miscarry. I doubt he could ever acknowledge or realize how hurtful his actions were to me as a friend and a lover. Honestly, I should probably just avoid him.

Anyway, once my body adjusted to the surge of new hormones and life seemed to settle back down, I put my ad for a housemate back up and was immediately impressed with the quality of responses. She was living 3 hours away and made the drive the next day to meet me. Yay!!! Such a sweet girl and I’m so happy to have a nice housemate again. And, of course, putting all that extra cash towards my freedom! It stunned me to see that I would be paying more in interest than for the amount of my loan, so every month I can make that extra payment I’m saving a couple hundred dollars in interest. I want the choices I make during this down time in my life to be a part of my resume for when I return to work. I’m doing exemplary work with what little I have and that should speak volumes for who I am and the type of performance I can bring to the table for clients.

How to avoid the void?


I knew it was going to be hard to raise a child without a father, but I never knew how my heart would break when my toddler gets attached to a guy I date, and then still asks for him 2 weeks after we’ve parted ways. It seems that adults can turn off their feelings, some better than others, like a light switch. I never had the ability. It seems my daughter has inherited my curse. She attached to the donor in the same way, and continued to ask for him repeatedly for weeks after we parted ways. Same with the recent guy I dated. She’s longing to attach to a male figure. When we read stories, she looks at the illustration of the mommy and daddy and correctly identifies them. She has the basic understanding of what a daddy is, and she understands that she doesn’t have one. The quick fix to this issue is to no longer introduce her to guys who I date, but the issue is more complicated and deeper than that. If you had asked me or the most recent ex, it was a no brainer to have my daughter around him because our feelings for each other were, I had thought, sincere. He went from wanting to have my baby, be a husband figure and a father figure to suddenly not wanting to see me, talk to me or have anything at all to do with me. Aside from being cruel and harsh to me, it was devastating to my daughter. She asks for him every time I buckle her in her car seat, at bedtime, when we drive in the direction of his house, and when anyone rings the doorbell. It’s hard for me, because I had thought he was the real deal, but then, you know, life happens and the rug was slipped out from under my feet and I was completely abandoned. I don’t know how I would have dated him any differently because there would have been a point where my daughter would have met him, and the end result would have been the same. I can’t shield her from these losses and I’m crushed that she has to endure this hardship. I wish I was married and I wish she had a daddy, but my life didn’t turn out that way. So instead she bears my curse and lives with the infant need to attach to another parent, yet there is none. For her there is only a void. I can do everything on my own except be a father. That’s the one thing I am incapable of doing. Sure, I can do the duties of two parents single-handedly, but I’m not a daddy and as much as I want to give her one, it’s just not in the cards at this point. Hopefully soon. My child is a ball of love and I have no doubt that there is a man out there who will sincerely, completely and eternally fall head over heels for me and my children. It’s just hard to stay optimistic when she keeps asking for the ex every day. That crushes me.


Memory Lane…


I haven’t been doing a lot of writing lately, and by that I mean narrating a blog entry in my mind before fingers-to-keys banging it out. Instead, I’ve been curious what I was writing about at this stage of my pregnancy/life with my daughter. I conceived in August of 2011, so I scrolled down to the Monthly Archives on my website homepage and clicked on October 2011. There are a few entries in particular that were mesmerizing.

In addition to that, big changes in my household potentially happening this week! Very exciting, details to follow once things get confirmed.

Financially things are leaner and better. I’ve re-budgeted for the year. It’s amazing how earning a fraction of what I used to earn has made me a creative financing wizard. I no longer eat out at restaurants, I’m in the process of consolidating all my liquid assets, finally using all those gift cards that have been lying around, finally on a grocery budget and already my credit card bill is 1/3rd of what is was! Mind you, a credit card that I’ve never carried a balance on, so this is a great accomplishment. I’ve done a slew of other budget-friendly strategies. All of this living lean and living leaner to pay off my mortgage as quickly as possible. It’s my goal to have my 30 year mortgage paid off within 5 years. I’ve been living here for 9 months now…what can I say, I’ve always loved a good financial challenge! And, it means that my landscaping plans for the backyard with an extended living space with a deck and grove of edible fruit and nut trees, and hardwood floors indoors, will be a great reward once my mortgage is paid off.

This is a seriously fucked up chapter in my life but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to OWN it and make it my bitch, and if that’s not a story of triumph than I don’t know what is. I’m not on welfare. I don’t have any rich relatives. I’m not sponging off some man. The nice car in my garage, that’s me. This house, that’s me. My children, again, all me. I did all of this, on my own, during a fucking shitty broke pathetic time in my life, and I’ve done more and figured out more on my own than a lot of folks do in a decade of good living. I make living in survival-mode look good.

Yesterday’s news…


“There’s nothing there. It’s empty,” my statement bitter and pained as I turned my head quickly away from the ultrasound screen. The old machine begrudgingly displayed a blank snow pattern of black and white dots. There was no big black space of the uterus with a little jellybean inside.

“Well, just wait a second here. I gotta find it,” said my midwife. “Sometimes it takes a second. It’s still really early. Your uterus feels great, but it can continue to expand if there is a miscarriage, so let’s just wait a seco—oh! I found it.”

“What? I don’t see anything. It’s just snow,” I turned my head back towards the screen quickly, desperately squinting my untrained eyes to decipher something.

“Right there, yes, see? Do you see that fast fluttering? That’s the heart beating. The size is perfect for an 8 week old embryo, good location, placenta forming well, good heart beat.”

My first prenatal appointment was yesterday. It was difficult emotionally. I’ve decided to work with the same midwife who missed my first birth. You can read my daughter’s birth story here. There was a lot of negligence that happened that I didn’t write about that the student did (or didn’t do) that put the safety of my newborn and myself at risk because at the time I was still processing it. After I’d processed it, I didn’t really want to go back there and write about it. I thought I had resolved all my birth trauma, but this new pregnancy has brought a surge of unexpected anger surfacing out of nowhere and directed at my midwife in angry text messages. Yesterday, we were finally face-to-face again at my first prenatal appointment and I brought it up. She told me how it doesn’t surprise her that there are still issues popping up now as I prepare to birth again, and she repeatedly confirmed that what happened to me was horrendous. Not only was her student fired and disallowed to graduate for the extent and severity of negligence (and she was 3 months from becoming a midwife –my midwife said she’ll make a great nurse but she lacks the critical thinking to entrust with the life of a newborn and mother), but also my midwife has completely reformed her teaching tolerances because of what happened to me. Birthing my daughter alone, completely by myself, was the single most empowering thing –as a woman and a person– that I have ever done in my life. However, I should have never been alone. My midwife and I discussed my fears, and really, my only real fear is that the first time I didn’t know any better and got lucky. If something like that were to happen again–then it’s all on me because “I should have known better.”

My midwife and I are developing some strategies, whether that’s having another midwife assist at my birth or some other ideas we’re tossing around. My midwife really allowed me to express myself openly and allowed me the respect of being heard, listened to and understood. She also reassured me that she has a very thick skin from dealing with hormonal pregnant women every day and there is nothing I can say or do to scare her away. She encouraged us to keep touching base about my fear and talking about it together.

After the prenatal appointment yesterday and discussing my fear, I feel so much more relaxed about the pregnancy and birth, and although I deeply trust my midwife, there is a facet of that trust that does need to be restored. My midwife said that it might linger until I’m in labor and physically see her walk through the door and then, finally, I’ll be able to breathe that sigh of release. She reassured me it’s normal, it’s ok, and what I’m experiencing and going through is absolutely normal for a women who has had a birth trauma.

With all my hormones totally out of control and crazy right now, suddenly seeing that little blob on the ultrasound screen yesterday afternoon put everything back into perspective for me. My little jellybean is the correct size and has a great heartbeat! I feel more like my regular old self again after getting that reassurance and confronting my fears with my midwife. I haven’t felt this good in… well, 8 weeks and 3 days!