Resentment

This is probably going to sound strange, but sometimes I resent my uterus. I hate the hormones and mood changes and bleeding. I resent it because the whole thing doesn't have a point. I'll never get pregnant, so what's the point of having a womb that lines and empties every month?

This has especially become the case in the last year or so. I've been diagnosed with Pre Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD). This syndrome is controversial in terms of its diagnosis, and it affects something like 2-9% of women. Basically it is PMS, but doubled, tripled whatever. Every month I become extremely irritable, angry, depressed, teary...sounds like normal PMS, right? But, I also struggle with feelings and thoughts of being beyond help and perhaps not being here would be better for everyone concerned. I know that these thoughts aren't real and I'm able to just let them be and don't delve into them – they will pass – but jeez it sucks.

And, the suckiest thing is that having these cycles is they are all for nothing. At one point I even thought about asking for a hysterectomy, but I realise that would not be a good idea (the risks and complications and recovery aren't worth it unless it is absolutely necessary). So, I'll be going on the pill starting from next cycle. I don't want to – I don't like taking medication unless I have to, and I admit I feel like a bit of a failure having to take it.

I think I'm having a bit of a blah day today. I keep thinking that my womanhood is so totally mucked up – I can't have a child, and my menstrual cycle is ridiculous. I think I'm going to have to read my blog entry from April 18th again – I don't feel like much of a woman in tune with her cycles.

Mother's Day

There is no two ways about it – Mother’s Day is hard. As are the weeks leading up to it – all the cards to Mummy, to Mum, even to Mother and Grandma and Nana. There are reminders everywhere of that day that comes every year that will never be for me.

This year was both wonderful and hard. With the birth of Hugo we got to celebrate Zoe’s first mother’s day and it was beautiful. We also had the privilege of organizing a present for her from Hugo. He has very good taste and got her a wooden necklace. I wrote a poem as well (from Hugo) in a card. It was a lovely day.

But there is always a tinge of sorrow for me – I don’t have a child that looks at me the way Hugo looks at Zoe. This year was particularly hard because it was the first Mother’s Day where there was a baby with us – before it was Zoe, Kirby and I celebrating our mothers.

Zoe and Mum B (my mother-in-law) have decided that Mother’s Day will also be Auntie’s Day. Hugo had a special little present for me as well. I was blown away. I held it in, but I wanted to cry because it was such a thoughtful and amazing thing to do. It is true that Hugo will never look at me the same way he looks at Zoe, but he does love me and he reaches out for me and he trusts me. He loves me in a different way – and it is absolutely precious.

Kirby and I do celebrate being parents to our fur-kids though. We have five of them (I’ve put pictures with this post, top to bottom and left to right - Minerva, Frankie, Felix, Ari and Odi). We figure – why not? They are our children. This year they got me a soda-stream – but I have to admit they were exceptional naughty on Mother’s Day for some reason – fighting with each other, stalking each other (this is the cats I’m talking about), and Frankie did a freaky flying cat thing out of the front window blinds and scratched my hand (she was sorry and wanted cuddles not long afterward – I think she may have thought I was Felix who had been annoying her).

I love Hugo as an Aunt as well as my nieces Hannah and Ella and my friend’s children too, and I love my fur-kids as their Mummy. So I guess, in a way, Mother’s Day is for me too –just in a different way.

That old guilty feeling...

I was at the supermarket this evening picking up something for dinner. I was almost done when this kid threw a small tantrum. Apparently he needed to have m&ms for dinner. You know the first thing that popped into my head? I was going to go home to peace and quiet and that sounded pretty good!

Well, did the guilt come along with a great big kick in the side of my head! I mean, how could I think such a thing? Clearly I would have been a horrible mother if kids had come along...

It would be so easy to give guilt free range on my thoughts, and I used to, but I don't do that anymore. There's absolutely no reason why I should feel guilty for enjoying what is. I don't have kids, and if I did I would be looking forward to bathing them, cuddling them, disciplining them, etc. I can't spend my entire life wasting away what I have for what I don't.

One of my friends was reminiscing the other day about the time before kids, when it was just her and her husband, and all the time they had. She wondered what they ever did with their time! She loves those kids, but her time is not really her own anymore.

Mine is. If we want to go away on holidays we don't have to wait for a school break. If I want to go and learn to play the cello, I can organise it without thinking about after school activities. If we want to go see a movie, we don't need to organise a baby sitter (although our dogs and cats might disagree with that - they'd either like to come too or have someone come over and play). If I want to go and see Hugo (my nephew) I can and I can spend one on one time with him (that is just the most precious thing).

Don't get me wrong - if I had kids I wouldn't swap them for all the time and movies and cello lessons in the world. But, the fact is I don't, and I never will. So I figure there's nothing wrong with enjoying the fact that I can come home, relax, eat when and what I want, pursue any hobby I want, and write a blog entry!