This past year has been too turbulent to post. I have loathed my hiatus. Writing would have been good medicine, however, things were in flux and I needed to just wait some things out. And then wait some more things out. Before I knew it, I had waited almost a year out. I’m talking about real posts, not recipes or food. Plus, there was a person reading my blog who I just don’t care for anymore. Mainly because they don’t care for me. No, not you. Or you. You all are fine. But you, all the way over there, far away from here. You. You know who you are. This person is a cowardly voyeur, selfishly satisfying their own curiosity but never reaching out when I was sinking into the downs of life, never reaching out during my triumphs. But, always the first to read my latest post from their home abroad. I shouldn’t be bothered by this ex-friend, but it was bothering me. And I was pregnant. With a toddler running around. Ain’t got time for that. My need to sleep and eat and be a mom took all my energy, and my creative writing energy was the first to get sucked out. Most importantly, I needed that space to sort through my personal life. And these sorts of things take time. I’ve learned patience. Still learning that life lesson. If I become any more patient I might earn a degree in sainthood.
To catch you up to speed….
Donor and I made a baby. We began an affair. Then, life. When she was 18 months old I approached him for another baby. When she was 2 years old we tried again. It worked first time around. The pregnancy was hard. I had lost all the baby weight from my first pregnancy, and gained it all back with this second pregnancy, but it felt heavier. Donor’s mom and I began a relationship, skyping and emailing throughout the weeks. Around my due date his mom came to live with me for 3 months. He flew out for the birth. He ended our 4 year affair on February 12th at 10pm. I was sobbing and weeping sitting on the floor (as best one can at 40.3 weeks pregnant) and that’s what it took to break my water. An hour later I had my first contraction. We tabled our fight. My daughter sneezed and it would become the virus-from-hell that got the whole house sick and I was terrified the newborn would catch it. 4 hours after her birth my white cat, Matzoh Ball, was found sweetly curled up by the front door. Dead. It was excruciating to do a birth and a funeral in the same day. My beloved black cat, Mitzvah, had died several months prior. Neither beloved soul got to meet the new baby. I had a homebirth in my own house, which was awesome as I bought this house all by myself on my own only the year before! The midwife made it this time. Labor was hard. It was even faster this time around, 4.5 hours from start to finish, but much more painful. I screamed this child out of me. Things got *almost* the worse they’ve ever been between He and I. He became emotionally done with me, staying out of guilt and obligation for the week and treating me worse than a street dog. Shunning me. Avoiding me. Not touching me. Not talking with me. Not connecting with me. Then the baby blues kicked in. He left; went back to his house in another state. His mom continued to stay here. I had a pretty bad infection from the birth that took 2 full rounds of antibiotics to clear up. Along with the hormones and ptsd, I ended up having a nervous breakdown. My outburst consisted of yelling at his mom and telling her I wanted to hit her, in much the same way people yell I could kill you right now! Not that I was going to hit her, but that’s how she took it and I don’t blame her. So she cut her 3 month visit short and booked a flight out the next morning. I should have been on meds, like real actual meds. Like Valium. But, breastfeeding and trying to do it naturally so, yeah, everything is clearer in hindsight. His mother and I have been slowly rebuilding our relationship. There is love there. I have faith it will all work out. I sent donor a 32 page letter detailing all the ways he was a complete shitbag and all the ways he is absolutely awesome. He had pushed me away for a year while he struggled with coming to terms about his imminent divorce. Donor and I recently had several heart-to-hearts in person and we are both in love with each other. We are committing to each other. The Dream only predicted Avi. I remember asking about whether it will work between us and in much the same way that old game, Magic 8 Ball where you shake up a big black ball while asking it a question and there’s a shitty little window where a cube pops up with a different answer on each side and The Dream answered similarly to this like: “Reply hazy, try again later.” It didn’t answer. Just left the question drifting out in space. A space open for the possibility. Our affair ended on February 12th 2015. Our relationship started May 29th, 2015. He was here this past weekend and it was a perfect visit. Best time we’ve had together in years. I begged for this him to make a visit here again across several pages of that 32 page letter I sent him –just wanted to feel like a normal family, at least once, for our family to be together, just the four of us. If it lasts, wonderful. If it is just a gift of once (or a few handful of times), then I am still grateful.
So, as of right now. Today. This minute. Things are really pretty good. It has been a huge struggle for me emotionally and physically for a full year.The fact I couldn’t even write about it should indicate how hard it’s been for me.
Sorry for the brevity. But I just finally needed to write. To get something out. I can fill in the cracks later.
Here are a couple pics to make up for lost time.