(no subject)
[Private]
I'm adding watching the Lifetime channel to the list of things I can't do.
There was some ER knock off showing with doctors trying to separate infant siamese twins. One of them died.
I'm curled up on the couch clutching the latest ultrasound picture and I can't stop shaking.
Everything looks fine. Everything is fine.
Yet here I am in the middle of the night sobbing over some stupid television show.
Nights like this I look around my apartment and I have no idea why I'm here. My best friend has yet to call and offer me an apology. My husband's 3,000 miles away. Toby still hasn't picked up the damn ball and I miss him so badly it physically hurts to think about. Which isn't to say I don't miss Sam or Carol, but it's a different kind of thing. Carol will come around. I'll see Sam later this week. I'm not sure Toby will ever speak to me again.
Right now the apartment seems huge and empty and I feel utterly alone.
Just as I typed that, Blob decided to give me a nice, sharp kick as if to assert her presence. She doesn't seem to understand that when she does that it hurts. And speaking of Blob, if she's as demanding after she's born as she has been this weekend, I'm shoving her into Sam's arms and taking off for Jamaica. I swear I've eaten my weight in Kentucky Friend Chicken, and that's significantly more chicken than it would have been a few months ago. I've also officially given up all hope of ever sleeping through the night again, and my belly button is seems to be growing shallower by the day, and while I may give into the the kid's love of fried 'chicken', I refuse to allow her to push my belly button out. I have no use for a large nipple-like shape sticking out of the middle of my abdomen. It's bad enough that my new breasts (much like the rest of me) have begun to develop what look suspiciously like stretch marks.
I'm tired and sore and lonely and I don't know how to begin fixing everything that's broken around me. But it's all okay because some gossip columnist in a city I hate thinks I've got great legs.
Something's got to give.
[Private]
I'm adding watching the Lifetime channel to the list of things I can't do.
There was some ER knock off showing with doctors trying to separate infant siamese twins. One of them died.
I'm curled up on the couch clutching the latest ultrasound picture and I can't stop shaking.
Everything looks fine. Everything is fine.
Yet here I am in the middle of the night sobbing over some stupid television show.
Nights like this I look around my apartment and I have no idea why I'm here. My best friend has yet to call and offer me an apology. My husband's 3,000 miles away. Toby still hasn't picked up the damn ball and I miss him so badly it physically hurts to think about. Which isn't to say I don't miss Sam or Carol, but it's a different kind of thing. Carol will come around. I'll see Sam later this week. I'm not sure Toby will ever speak to me again.
Right now the apartment seems huge and empty and I feel utterly alone.
Just as I typed that, Blob decided to give me a nice, sharp kick as if to assert her presence. She doesn't seem to understand that when she does that it hurts. And speaking of Blob, if she's as demanding after she's born as she has been this weekend, I'm shoving her into Sam's arms and taking off for Jamaica. I swear I've eaten my weight in Kentucky Friend Chicken, and that's significantly more chicken than it would have been a few months ago. I've also officially given up all hope of ever sleeping through the night again, and my belly button is seems to be growing shallower by the day, and while I may give into the the kid's love of fried 'chicken', I refuse to allow her to push my belly button out. I have no use for a large nipple-like shape sticking out of the middle of my abdomen. It's bad enough that my new breasts (much like the rest of me) have begun to develop what look suspiciously like stretch marks.
I'm tired and sore and lonely and I don't know how to begin fixing everything that's broken around me. But it's all okay because some gossip columnist in a city I hate thinks I've got great legs.
Something's got to give.
[Private]