Ugly Babies

Early morning at the hideout. the dead weaving its way through the trees and tents. the sun hiding behind a blanket of high clouds, yet present in a gentle morning diffusion of light.  People emerging from their slumber, moving slowly, with sleep hazy smiles when they see me. sitting here on a camp chair, wrapped warm with a blanket, waiting for some coffee to brew. 

thinking this morning while cuddled next to my love what it is that I love about being here. The music of course, but there is something so much more. The people, my friends, who are here with me, I love them too, but it doesn’t allow for that deep personal connection of long late night talks. 

I am entertained here. there is just so much to look at. so many people and costumes and colors.

What i really need to get off my mind... I watch the people walk by and I stare at the bellies. is that a beer belly or a baby belly i wonder. the baby bellies are here, but mostly hidden. I stare at the families, especially the ones with the babes held close. The moms and dads look so happy, and in love. I feel their love.

Unfortunately the one that is here with our group makes me feel so negative and hateful. Maybe because she is so negative. She walks around talking to no one (maybe she thought I was listening) about how awful it is to be pregnant, and about how hard it is to travel with a babe. I told ML that her baby is ugly. I hate to be so mean, but i really feel that. I’m avoiding her. I considered saying something, but she wouldn’t get it, she wouldn’t care. I just want her to shut up, and to stay away from me. But I can avoid just as easily. 

Before the show last night I was in the cuddle puddle (don’t ask) with Mr. Traveler and some others. I told Mr. T that I thought the baby was ugly. He was flabbergasted that I would say something so awful, but understood that I just had to get it off my chest. He was really sweet, and agreed that she was hard to be around. Everyone rolled their eyes when she cruised into our camp (from her RV camp) one morning and announced that everyone needed to be quiet because the baby was napping. Excuse us (all 20 of us) but maybe you should have stayed at your camp while your ugly baby sleeeps.

battery on low. until recharge.. xoxo

My dad

Sitting in a coffee shop right now. It is a beautiful day. Unusually beautiful and warm. The music is so upbeat and the cafe is bustling. My mocha is delicious with whip cream and chocolate on top. I like days like today. 

I saw my therapist this morning. I really like her and am really glad I found her. I feel like she is so kind and gentle and understanding. and she doesn’t waste my time either. I have so much to get out, and she has been great at helping me frame my thoughts and fears in such a way that I can get my head around them. As opposed to the free-floating wordless emotions that are so overwhelming. I wish that I’d found her a year ago, and am glad that I kept looking and didn’t settle for someone who wasn’t a good match for what I need right now.

We talked about my dad today. A great man. Who i love dearly. But who has chosen his addiction over me and our family. I never would have brought him up, but she did, and I am glad. My issues with him have come up in strange ways as we consider donor sperm, and the role of a father. 

I’d never really thought that the things I project onto “My Lover” (yep, I’ve been thinking about what name I can use for my husband on this blog, and My Lover is perfect) might have their roots in my relationship with my dad, but it sure explains a lot to think about it like that. 

My dad is a great man, really. He was a great dad. Loved me and my sisters and my mom with his whole heart. I’ve never doubted that, not for one second. 

But he is an alcoholic. He has always been. I didn’t see it growing up, but I suppose that I knew there was something. 

I suppose that my mom did a lot to hold out family together and keep my dad held together over the years. Interesting family dynamics when I stop to think about it. My mom was our primary caregiver, the one who was in charge of everything. My dad however was the provider and definitely the man of the house. His was the final word, respected by my mom, and us girls. 

Things changed when he had his heart attack, and heart surgery. My mom decided that he could no longer smoke inside the house. And we were all more vocal about his continued drinking, since the doctor had been very clear that this incident was a warning and the repairs would only last a decade or so if he didn’t change his ways. For us it was black and white - he had to stop drinking and smoking. For him it was black and white - he wasn’t making any changes. A few years later he and my mom separated, then divorced, and he cashed out his retirement and moved across the county. Without my mom to hold him together he has made a lot of bad choices. Maybe I’ll write about that more one of these days. 

I gave up trying to call him about a year ago. He rarely answered his phone and never checked his messages. My attempts to contact him became an exercise in futility. So I quit trying. Months passed. He called me on christmas eve. It was great to hear from him, but hard to talk. He promised to call again more often

He didn’t come to my sister’s wedding in February. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for that. Really. It is so hard to reconcile that this great man who was a great father can just walk away from us like this. Sometimes I think that it would have been easier had he just died. 

And them he called me a few weeks ago. We talked for a little bit. I told him that things have been really hard for us, with My Lover still being out of work, and that we are having a hard time starting our family. It sounded like he knew, so my mom or sisters must have filled him in. 

I still don’t feel like I want to try to call him. My Lover thinks that I should keep trying, that since he called me last it is my turn to call him. 

I love my dad, and I know that he loves me. I really do. But I can’t compete with his addiction. I can’t. and I don’t want to try. maybe because I know what he will choose. maybe because i don’t think I should have to. 

But as I contemplate what makes a dad a dad. andd my fears (which will remain a word-less blob of emotion). and my feelings of wanting to protect My Lover from the pain of this journey. I wonder how my feelings about my dad overlay on top of all this. 

Today is my grandpa's birthday. He passed few years ago. I miss him all the time,and can't help but think that things would be different if he were still with us. 

Wow - that got a little heavy. But Ohhh does it feel good to write! and this day is so gorgeous, so I’m heading home to get my puppy and head down to the beach. 

My Expectations of Life

One of the things I have really appreciated being a part of this community is that it is safe to explore. To explore other people's stories, to empathize with those who are just starting this journey, to feel like I am not alone with those who at the same point in their treatment/diagnosis as we are, and to learn from those who are moving on to options that I never thought we would consider.  When we started there were options I was sure I would never consider, but even then I reserved the right to change my mind at any point. Maybe part of that close-mindedness was the grief that I felt over the loss of natural conception. And the fear - the fear that I still can't seem to match words to. 


At first it was so hard to focus on anything other than the loss of a dream. Being a mother was the only thing that I have ever expected out of life. I've never known what I wanted to be when I grow up, I didn't have a vision of the man I would share my life with or the kind of wedding we would have or the house we would live in, or anything like that. I just knew that I would someday be a mother. Lucky for me my life has turned better than I could have ever dreamt it could possibly be. Somehow I met and married the most amazing man who I adore and respect and absolutely love sharing my life with. We have a beautiful home and the sweetest dog. I have a job that is both challenging and so rewarding. I look at my life and am overwhelmed with gratitude. 


Since I've known my husband, my dream of someday being a mother has only grown stronger, seeing little glimpses of the amazing father that he would be someday. My dream expanded to being a parent, with him, of us together raising our family. Seeing him years ago with our new puppy, so lovingly anticipating and meeting the unmet needs of this helpless little animal. The first night we had the puppy, back when we thought it would sleep in its crate, climbing into bed, hearing the puppy cry, and watching him so quickly get up and bring the little animal into our bed where it would be safe and warm. As my love for him has grown over the years, my desire to share with him the experiences of parenting have only grown stronger. I see everyday the way that his strengths compliment mine and just know that we would be such a great team as parents. 


Clearly we've encountered some speed bumps on this journey to parenthood. But I have a renewed faith that we will someday get there. In large part thanks to this community. Thanks to  being able to see that there are so many who have been here before us and successfully moved on to make choices that I once considered impossible to make.