I have a case of the blues and I am not entirely sure why. I have been a housewife for about 2 months now and most of the time I actually don’t mind it. This week has been different, though. . . I haven’t felt like myself since the surgery. I have been tired and in some degree of pain. Apparently this is all normal and I just need to give my body time to heal but it’s getting annoying. The pain is mostly gone but I still get twinges of pain. The fatigue is the part that is really getting on my nerves. I basically slept 12 hours last night and I never do that, even when I’m shit faced.
I think part of it has to do with this place, too. Leesville sucks your soul out slowly, a little everyday. You get complacent, make friends, find a kickass hair stylist and in those good times you forget how empty it is here; then it hits you like a ton of bricks. This place has no soul and no culture. I felt good for a bit yesterday after I got a great haircut and booked my next appt with my new hair chick. I have a doggie play date and a job interview tomorrow but still, IT’S LEESVILLE, LA. I have to live here for another yr or so and that thought is not so happy at the moment. Next month will be a year that we’ve been here. . . wow. Hopefully next year passes quickly. I haven’t taken a real picture with a real camera in months. What’s the point? I have no computer right now and it will be another couple of months before I get my Mac. I also see no real beauty here other than in my friends. Maybe I’ll just start taking tons of pictures of Amy and our dogs.
I just might be back in the working world again!!! I have a job interview with ACAP tomorrow and the nice lady on the phone seems to really want to hire me. The best part is that this is a job still in my profession, pays more than minimum wage AND I think that I will enjoy it. I used to help parents with job skills, interview skills, etc when I worked in child welfare. If I can help crackheads find jobs, surely I can help soldiers/veternas find jobs.
I am 6 post op and my stomach looks like I have been punched a few times. I have 4 good bruises on my tummy; thank goodness I don’t have to be in a bikini any time soon. P was with me until they wheeled me into the OR and then he was with me in Recovery Phase 2. The whole thing took up a good chunk of our day but hopefully it will all be worth it. The dr sent me home with percocet but I haven’t had to take much of it, thankfully. P was upset b/c the dr wouldn’t tell him anything after the procedure and just told him that he would talk to us during my post-op appt. A few days ago I finally looked at my discharge paperwork and noticed the diagnosis section-it said endometriosis. I immediately started crying. Why? I don’t know. I suspected endometriosis, esp after P said I had been in surgery at least an hour and I had 2 incisions. We have our answer, now we just wait to talk to the dr and proceed from there. Who knows, maybe since the dr cleaned out the scar tissue we will get knocked up on our own.
Ugh, I have to log off in 20 minutes-stupid on post computer lab. Before I go, my thoughts on adoption:
I wish that I had a dollar for every time that someone mentions adoption in the context of a conversation about infertility. One person-who has never tried to get pregnant-has even said that if she and her husband couldn’t get pregnant, they wouldn’t try any medical procedures and would just adopt b/c obviously that’s God’s plan. Others talk abotu all the kids that need homes, etc. Guess what, I want to get pregnant. I want to have a big pregnant belly, cravings, the whole nine yards. I want to watch my stomach move like an alien, knowing that I have a little me/P in me growing and wanting to come out. I want to know what it’s like to give birth and see my baby come directly from ME. I want to be able to look at my child and think he/she has my eyes, P’s nose, etc. I worked in child welfare for 7 yrs and adoption is not easy and not cheap. Not to mention that many of those kids are fucked up and come from fucked up parents. I want the chance to fuck up my own kids; not the chance to repair what someone crack head has done. Helping people is my career choice, not my choice for a family. Call me selfish, I really don’t give a damn. As much as I love the movie Juno it is not the story of most adoptions. Trust me, if I could guarantee that a Juno would give us a baby then I would consider adoption. . . but that’s just not reality. Even in private adoptions the birth mother and/or father are not usually the kind of people that you’d want to be friends with, much less raise their DNA.
So for all of you fertile people who people who think that adoption is the answer, go out and adopt a child yourself. Put your fucking money where your mouth is.
On a separate note, I have decided that I might convert to the Episcopal Church. I grew up Church of Christ but for many reasons have not ever felt totally comfortable in it, esp in a small town. I plan to visit the local Episcopal Church this Sunday to see how it is. Those who know me and know the Episcopal Church seem to think that it’s a good fit. We shall see.