Friday, September 7, 2012

Musing of a crazy lady

I walked by Baby Gap.  I pictured myself holding hands with one of the mannequins in the window.  But I knew I should really be pushing a stroller, not holding hands.  And then I walked a few blocks, trying to clear my thoughts from my mind.  I noticed my left foot took me home.  My right foot reluctantly followed.  I looked for meaning in this.  I look for meaning in everything.  

When pregnant women walk by, I feel like nature is assaulting me.  And it seems like they walk by all the time.  Like a bully on the playground, Mother Earth is singing, “nan na nan na nah nah” with her thumbs to her temples and her hands wide open.  “That’s what you get, bitch, when you put bad energy into the world.  You could have been better and you chose not to be.”

I keep hearing, “everything happens for a reason.”  I keep thinking about the reason.  It must mean something horrific is coming – it has to be something that I would not have been able to manage while pregnant or with a young child.  Maybe I have brain cancer.  Maybe I only have six months to live.  Maybe a loved one is going to get gravely sick.  Or maybe I am going to do something that will have such a profound impact on the world, that I would have not otherwise done with a child.  I hope things don’t always happen for a reason.  I hope that sometimes life just fucking sucks.

Sometimes you just have to find a little humor in it all.  After all, what other explanation could there be that many smart, loving, responsible people like me are infertile and other women have crack babies?  Mother Nature must want to laugh.  Maybe I’ll sign up for improv classes.

I argue with myself whether I even lost anything.  I lost an idea.  I lost a dream.  I didn’t lose a baby (or two).  But all of our interactions with people are really are just ideas.  How I see your face results from  my eyes observing and telling my brain what your face looks like.  And your words and tone of voice too.  And your touch.  And taste and smell.   My senses tell me and I believe.  I didn’t see my unborn children and I never heard them cry.  I didn’t touch them.  But I felt them, I sensed them.  I talked to them.   When you lose ideas that are just thoughts, you merely forget, you don’t bleed them out.  They don’t have to be surgically removed. 

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