Deja Vu All Over Again
Or should it be second verse (or more accurately third verse) same as the first.
Or maybe another birthday, another crappy present for my husband.
Or Happy Birthday, Honey; nope, not knocked up again. Maybe you should really start considering my advice to divorce me and find yourself a newer model. Maybe someone like your ex-wife who has had two kids since we've been trying even though she told you that after y'all married that she didn't want kids. (The same one who was wanting a third baby and wondering if she should try again, and then was late. Yep, I found my husband's ex-wife's blog online. It wasn't hard; it was linked to a friend's blog, and she used her real name. I don't quite know why I read it but reading that entry where she thought she was pregnant, I was about to toss my computer across the room. Turns out she wasn't. Ah, the perils of being a nosy bitch.)
Or Yep, it's the pits.
Okay, I could go on, but you get the gist. It's my husband's birthday on Sunday, and all he's getting is a wet kiss from the pup and some less wonderful present from me.
Not that I didn't try to get him what he wanted. Heck, I had even convinced myself I was going to give him the best present ever. Even my acu wondered if I was knocked up. But somehow the extremely painful boobs (probably from my checking too often to see if they were sore), the metal mouth (probably more like whitening mouth, from the whitening strips to salvage my teeth that turned horribly gray from the antibiotics i took for the sinus infection), and the fatigue (probably because it's frickin' 105 degrees outside) didn't trump the period.
I'm not even going to hope that next year I can give something he really wants.
Or maybe another birthday, another crappy present for my husband.
Or Happy Birthday, Honey; nope, not knocked up again. Maybe you should really start considering my advice to divorce me and find yourself a newer model. Maybe someone like your ex-wife who has had two kids since we've been trying even though she told you that after y'all married that she didn't want kids. (The same one who was wanting a third baby and wondering if she should try again, and then was late. Yep, I found my husband's ex-wife's blog online. It wasn't hard; it was linked to a friend's blog, and she used her real name. I don't quite know why I read it but reading that entry where she thought she was pregnant, I was about to toss my computer across the room. Turns out she wasn't. Ah, the perils of being a nosy bitch.)
Or Yep, it's the pits.
Okay, I could go on, but you get the gist. It's my husband's birthday on Sunday, and all he's getting is a wet kiss from the pup and some less wonderful present from me.
Not that I didn't try to get him what he wanted. Heck, I had even convinced myself I was going to give him the best present ever. Even my acu wondered if I was knocked up. But somehow the extremely painful boobs (probably from my checking too often to see if they were sore), the metal mouth (probably more like whitening mouth, from the whitening strips to salvage my teeth that turned horribly gray from the antibiotics i took for the sinus infection), and the fatigue (probably because it's frickin' 105 degrees outside) didn't trump the period.
I'm not even going to hope that next year I can give something he really wants.
posted by zhl at 8:27 AM
4 Comments:
I'm sorry hon. :(
Running in circles, it's funny you should mention that.
I was just thinking that our third* anniversary of TTC is rapidly approaching (like all good intentions, it's beginning of January). Another season of birthday dinners is coming up, only to be followed by the holiday season. And again, I will be childless.
*I know, it could be worse.
You are so hard on yourself, my dear. I'm sure whatever you get your hubby will be lovingly accepted and cherished. Now go have some ice cream.
I'm so sorry. I don't know what else to say. I know how much it hurts.
Donna is right . . . be kind to yourself.
Baby or no baby, your husband is lucky to have you, you're lucky to have each other. Don't tell youself otherwise.
Hang in there.
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