Just so you know, it’s grey and raining again.
I’ve finished the book I mentioned in my previous post, you know the one with the ridiculously long title… Waiting for Daiseyby Peggy Ornstein. It’s about Peggy and her husband Steve’s adventure (hell) into parenthood. The first part of the book is about her making the decision to not have a baby because of her work and not wanting to be tied down. Second half of her and Steven deciding that yes they want to be parents and her having to be disappointed again and again by miscarriages, IVF treatments, acupuncture, just plain old trying and donor eggs. They literally go through hell trying to have a child but yet their marriage actually survives and they grow together as individuals even though at one point in the book it seems like they won’t make it and then in another part of the book it seems like their whole marriage is just about getting pregnant and they don’t even like each other. And then the last part of the book about her getting Daisey.
Anyway I have the habit of projecting books like this onto my life. I never made any decisions about parenthood, it just happened. As a matter of fact out of all the couples I know, only one of them actually made a decision to start trying to have a baby; all the rest, it just happened. And of course the one couple whom made the decision to start trying, had problems conceiving. But back to me ;). I never even started thinking about anything. I had my career and I was a full blown alcoholic, it just never occurred to us that we needed to make a decision or do anything. My days consisted of working 12 – 16 hours and then drinking 12 hours. When we found out about my daughter, it was like the air in the room became heavy and we had to grow up in one evening but I couldn’t do it. I was terrified and I drank, I had problems and I drank, I made life for us hell and I drank. Then it came time for my doctor to put an end to all the hell I was putting my unborn baby through, she ordered me into the hospital and there I sat for 3 weeks before I HAD to have her. I made it all a nightmare. After waking up after having a c-section, my husband looked me in the eye and said (and I’ll never forget the words or the comfort on his face), “She’s perfect.” We had feared because of my drinking, how she would be when born. It kept us up at night and cause vivid nightmares for both of us.
But this was about the decisions to get to wanting to be a parent. I wonder how much different my life would be now if we had actually did the responsible thing and talked about and made decisions about our future. I can say that if we had back then, I would’ve said to wait a very loooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggggggg time. Not because of not wanting a child but because of wanting to drink more than anything else in my life. Do I feel tied down? Yes, absolutely. Do I feel my life is not my own? Yes, absolutely. Do I wish sometimes that my life turned out different? Yes, absolutely. Would I go back in time and change all of this? Yes, absolutely but not in the way it sounds. I would change the fact that I threw all of this time away with alcohol, not savoring the pregnancy or the little milestones, just caring about my alcohol and nothing or anybody else. Most times I am very happy being a stay at home mom (SAHM) but I can admit that sometimes I feel a bit trapped and claustrophobic.
My daughter is now 7 and my son is now 3. She is my knowledge seeker and he is my comedian. I love them both more than anything else in the world and I can say they are my life, my heart and my soul. I see true peace and laughter in their eyes everyday.
I do however need to embrace motherhood and staying at home more. For some reason I have it in my head that I need to be like June Cleaver, you know everything perfectly cleaned, cooked and washed. I am far from June Cleaver. As I sit here now typing all of this, I look around and see that the basement which is also the TV and playroom needs to be dusted, vacuumed and sorted through. The next level up which is the kitchen, dining and living rooms needs to be dusted, vacuumed and just plain cleaned and sorted through. There is also a coat closet on that level that I don’t even think any of the coats are on hangers and are just shoved in there. And finally the third level which is bathrooms, and bedrooms. Once again that level needs cleaning except the bathrooms because I just cleaned them 2 days ago. Oh and then the laundry! LOL Actually it really isn’t that funny how behind I am with that. So pretty much we all live in disordered chaos (kind of like my bipolarized brain) and I should try more to be a better housekeeper, but I just see so many other things to do during the day like puzzles, scrabble, reading, color books, scissors, crayons, tickling, laughing, smiling and loving. I think I should beable to do all of that but by the end of each day, it seems I am more behind than the day before and now it’s just impossible to even remotely catch up.
Sitting here thinking about all of this for a few minutes and the only thing I can come to a conclusion about is that I certainly am no June Cleaver and am not sure I want to be one. Am I ruining all of our lives by being like this though? I don’t know. I’ll have to decompose about this more.