Tuesday, November 11, 2008


It occurred to me today that I have eased out of Shock and Awe and have transitioned into more of a "This happened and it wasn't my choice but here we are" frame of mind.

Along with this, I am finally tired. I think my body has been running on adrenaline and panic. This also probably explains how I haven't been sleeping or eating, but I haven't been tired or hungry. One nice thing? I did lose 10 pounds. In six weeks. Without trying.

Yeah, you know you're jealous.

Now I'm making the rounds, having dinner with friends. Last night and tonight, I had dinner with college friends who now have shorties running about. I love my friends and I love their kids. But as I watched a 2-year-old and a 4-year-old dancing along to Dancing With the Stars, I felt sad.

My friends have hectic households with dirty floors and Cheerios stuck to walls. But there's a lot of joy.

I don't necessarily feel the need to have a biological child. But I am grieving for the little girl I thought would be my stepdaughter.

I'm thinking about the time we pretended the couch was a boat and the carpet was a sea of chocolate pudding, and all the stuffed animals kept falling in and had to be rescued. And I'm thinking about coloring and swinging and riding bikes, of blonde hair and Little Mermaid swimsuits.

And I'm sad.

I'm not inconsolable, incapable of getting off the couch like I was a week ago. But I'm sad. Finding the secret stash of coloring books and such that I had tucked away for the Ladybug didn't help. And I still have a beanie baby in my glove box in case of emergency.

I was a great partner. And I would have been a great stepmom. And my house? Really quiet.


JCK said...

I can tell you would have been a wonderful stepmom. Loved that description of the fun you created.

Perhaps it was a warm-up for something extraordinary to come?

Saucy said...

Well of course you would be a wonderful stepmother... you don't know what the future has in store for you now but trust me ChaCha, it is full of possibilities.

Did you know I was alone for seven years after my starter husband dashed until I met Veto? You won't be alone that long, that's not what I'm saying... but look, I found Veto. After one helluva dry spell.

Linda Summerfield said...

My single sister has adopted two of the loveliest little girls and knowing them has changed our lives!

Tumble Fish Studio said...

Oh, my sweet little Cha Cha . . . I had to do a lot of reading to catch up tonight. I've had a bit of the blah's as you know. So anyway, on the not so great side (but sort of sadistically humorous) we have pharmaceuticals, bad music, maggots, dead squirrels, missing panty liners, loss of appetite, messy friends, and a big fat hole in your heart. On the good side we have pharmaceuticals (I believe everyone needs them at least once in their lives - I've had to use them twice in some rough spots and was able to give them up in the good ones), a new very cool TV, great brother that tends to maggots and dead squirrels, found panty liners and healthy dog, new trim figure, lots of dinner invites, great messy friends (they keep life real - life is messy), and a heart that will heal that big ol' hole. The heart has an amazing way of healing itself when you give it time and let everyone you know give you emergency and frequent love patches and bandaids. It'll heal, I promise. Always thinking of you,

you gotta wonder said...

Keep the faith. Something better is coming.

Anonymous said...

I bet she misses you too. You will be a wonderful something to somebody someday. With your heart? God simply would NEVER let that great heart of yours go to waste.

Karen said...

Oh honey, I wish I had someone who would sit with me on a couch pretending it was a boat in a sea of chocloate pudding. You make me jealous and I am sure when the right time comes your home will be bursting with love.

Gertrude said...

I'm still here.
Same boat.
You, me... row!

Keep going.
Keep rowing.
Keep pushing through.

And I will too.

Anonymous said...

I've lost many children that I truly loved (I'm a pediatric oncology nurse) and I can tell you that they never really leave you. You might not get to mother that little girl, but she taught you things about mothering that will be useful when you have your own kids someday.

And you will. I know you will.

Rebecca said...

Lovely post. You will have someone else to love and care for like that...it will come.

In the meantime, big hug from me to you.

Mrs. G. said...

Your days acoming.

Leslie Smith said...

Random thought:

I am convinced that our interactions with children are inherently purposeful and meaningful. It's probably important that I preface that comment with the fact that I'm not a kid person -- just my "own kid" person. As we were leaving your house the other night, Cole remarked that you were his friend. I was too busy thinking about a bucket of delicious buttons to respond. But that just goes to show you why children are inherently important people to know.
So while the sting is a bit more intense from the additional people involved, the "living, loving, and learning" component might have been a bit more rich as well. I dunno. I suppose that'll be something that will have to rattle around in good people's brains for awhile.

Wanna date to a yarn store soon? :)


Madge said...

quiet houses are very very hard. i'm so sorry. but it sounds like you are doing better. i'm with jck -- who knows what is to come...