Blarg. It’s been a week and I’m still trying to sort them out. The cold meds aren’t helping. I used to get a cold right after finals every semester. I guess this is pretty much the same thing. Big stress followed by big virus. And this time I was so stressed I cracked one of my brand new fancy white fillings, and now I need a crown. Oh Fab. More time at the dentist.
I’m sad I won’t be able to give Monkey a sibling. Although, realistically, he has a cousin, and several nieces and nephews that are his age. Even thought they are all a state away, we see them on holidays and quite often in the summer. And a couple months ago good friends of ours from the city bought a house down the street and we see them and their two small kiddies all the time. Monkey is not going to be lonely.
But that’s not the same thing as growing up with a sibling. Sharing a childhood.
I feel so heartbroken that I will not be able to feel another baby wiggling inside me or breastfeed again. I weened Monkey early (15 months) because I had to take a round of tetracycline before we started IVF. I feel pretty crappy now and wish I had just let him continue and self ween. Although, he was quite the boob barnacle and I’m not sure he ever would have. He’s still, a year and a half after weening, a boob man. Although now he just likes to run into them and say BOING! or, the ever so subtle shouting of BOOOOBIES!! every time he sees me topless. I feel for his future wife.
I feel disappointed in myself, that I set a goal, and did everything within my power to reach it and didn’t. I changed my diet and took so many freakin’ supplements religiously for so long. I quite caffeine and processed sugar and BOOZE for gawds sake. I’m not used to not achieving goals I set for myself.
Especially when I’m told it’s because I’m too old. Jeez. Nothing to do but sit back and wait for the good ol’ grim reaper to show up. RE’s are so not good for ones self esteem.
I feel a bit lost. I had my eyes set on that two kids, stay at home mom mini-van driving lifestyle for so long, that I’m not sure who I am now. I had planned on fully retiring from sex work when we had two kids, but now? Do I go back to the dungeon? Lord knows we could use the money. After not taking new clients for so long, and having been so hard to get a hold of for so long, is there even any reason to show up? Am I totally forgotten? I had a long talk with a fellow Domme who assures me that my clients are out there, waiting for me. I just need to let them know I’m available once again.
Now if I can just find my sexy. I’m pretty sure I lost it some where in the process. I’m blaming it on the progesterone suppositories. Evil panty sludge.
I’ve seen the same couple clients over the last couple years. It’s comfortable. Like warm worn flannel. If I see new clients I’ll actually have to pull out the fancy cloths. The uncomfortable ones. They will expect things like shaved legs and combed hair. It’s like entering the dating world again. I feel like Liz Lemon.
There has also been the roller coaster of emotions ranging from ecstatic that I will never ever again, for the rest of my life, suffer another miscarriage. To just plain down in the dumps because my fat, unsexy body failed me.
I know raising one child is much easier, more affordable etc. We will be able to afford better schools for him and it will be easier to take one child on vacations – maybe I’ll even be able to take him to Europe some day. And with only one kid, I can afford to keep my Disney Annual Pass. So… there are benefits.
But a whole part of my life is over. A chapter is closed. The new chapter is scary. I know that I am the one who is writing it, but as of right now, I’ve got a bit of writers block.
edited to add: OMG! I can’t believe I forgot foolish. I feel incredibly foolish for spending so much of our savings trying, in my 40′s to beat the odds I *knew* were agains me.