She did it. She pushed the 7.15 lbs out of herself not without blood, sweat, tears and pain that we supposedly forget.

What law of universe states that joy has to come through pain? Does it apply only if you believe in it? We attempt to numb it out with epidurals and other substances but we can't take all of it away completely no matter how hard we try. I wonder if this wicked law applies proportionately? If you suffer more pain, do you get more joy?

I don't think I've ever wished so much pain upon myself.

Maybe I wish it upon myself because I don't feel it. Where is this pain of loss? I just sit and stare, and actually feel quite numb. Is the pain so strong that I've disassociated myself from it? rationalized it away? Or is it not here at all? I should call my therapist. I think I'm stuck in limbo in between two stages of grieving. I definitely left Denial stage but I am very reluctant to fully enter the Anger stage. It comes with self-blame, victimhood and tears and I don't like the sound of it. But I can't help it! I just feel sorry for myself, angry at the universe, at all the parents who mistreat their kids, at all the "knocked-up" couples contemplating abortion, everyone really. I feel the frustration of unfairness rising in me and I see it turning inwards toward myself. What's wrong with me? Why cant I? It's not fair, God, you hear me? What did I do to deserve this? I don't like feeling angry and I don't like my own thoughts, but I don't have a choice - it's a stage. I have to get through this, I have to make it ok. This too shall pass. It's hard to hide though. And I don't think I can anymore, and why should I??

As we were leaving the hospital, outside of my friend's hospital room a few tears came out of me and my Victim whined: "I can't even have a dog...". It was such a weird mix of happiness, hope and self-loathing. My husband, who is against getting a dog, heard my whine, decided that it was about him and threw a fit, blaming me for blaming him. All the while I am blaming myself. I think he's also in the Anger stage and also feeling sorry for himself. Except that he can't admit it. Guys aren't allowed to feel sorry for themselves. They feel angry at themselves for feeling sorry for themselves, suppress that poor-me anger and let it steam under a tight lid quietly building up force until it gets a chance to blow. Then the Victim comes out. Yucky, nasty sight. Nasty fight. Then the lid goes back on. I wish he knew that about himself, I wish I could show him, but I can't therapise him, he doesn't like it.

And then there are these tiny pops of anticipation in my tummy about getting our final diagnostic cycle results at the fertility clinic in a week. At least I'll know. Or will I? Do they ever tell you exactly what's wrong straight up? Should have went to med school.

11:20am, I'm in bed, my husband is sleeping with his head on my tummy, he's sick with a cold and we were both up all night in separate bedrooms so that he wokdkbt get me sick. We forgot that we can't sleep without each other. He crawled back here around 10:00am and even made me coffee and passed out on me. Making up for the lost night.


I need to go to clicnic at 1:00pm so I should get up and get ready but I can't, I don't want to ruin this setup. So I decided to just meditate for a little. I close my eyes and try to center myself. Immediately I get an image of a mother Mary with Jesus in her arms and, fearing I'll lose the moment, I frantically ask her "what do I need to do to have a baby like you?", she said "wrong question", ok, so it's not what I need to do, it's something else... "attitude" she said. I get it, I need to change attitude towards myself. What is my attitude toward myself? Then it comes together. I don't respect myself. I view myself and treat myself and life, and people in my life with a vigorousity and anger of a rebellious teenager. I am a teenager who is angry at universe for not being able to have a baby. You can't skip developmental stages, silly. To be a mother you have to be a woman first. And I never thought of myself as a woman. A woman. I am a woman. There is something to gentle, strong and comforting about this. I am going to treat myself like a woman. I am a woman. Let this replace the line my mom said repeated with disapproval whenever I left mess behind or was found with a stain on my dress: "you're a girl!"


I'm a woman.