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It's late. I should be in bed by now. Okay, it's not ridiculously late, but I have to go into work tomorrow, so--it's late. But I wanted to get a little of what's in my head out. So--here I am.
My mom came home from the hospital today. She showed me her incision. It was so red and angry looking. Hard to believe she's up and walking around with it. I can't help but wonder--they took her cyst, both ovaries, her uterus, her appendix and some scar tissue from her gallbladder removal 30 years ago. What fills in that space now? Is she just hollow there? I don't know who to ask that, but it's been bothering me since Wednesday.
I spent the majority of the day at her house, first conducting a meeting with her Longaberger friends, then cleaning and getting ready for her homecoming, then visiting with her. It was a good day. I'm so relieved she's okay. Honestly, I don't think I could continue to function without her.
Yesterday is something of a blur to me at this point. For the first time since I gave this URL out, I've stopped myself about writing about something because there are people I know reading it. I'm not sure yet what that means for the future of my journal. I just know I censored myself.
By Friday morning, my period was almost two days late. This wouldn't have necessarily caused me huge alarm, except that while my grandmother was dying, I was having serious trouble keeping anything in my system (including any medication I may have been taking) for more than half an hour. I have an easily suggestibly upset stomach. Birth control pills don't work if you throw them up or shit them out before your system can absorb them. I know that, logically, but logic and reason have no place in my life lately.
So by Friday morning, when there was still no sign of any blood, I was in a panic. I got up and was trying to get dressed for work, keeping in mind that the Boyfriend had this big special evening planned for us, but felt ugly in all my clothes. My body was not my friend. Finally, I wrestled my way into something I didn't hate and went to work.
All day, my mind was on my uterus. My head raced through the meetings I had to be in. When I was pregnant before, the decision was a no-brainer. The Artboy and I weren't good for each other, let alone for a child. I've mentioned before that I've never thought it was a wrong decision. But here--not so cut and dry. The Boyfriend and I have talked about having kids together as a reality. How could I look at the possibility of a baby that was ours and say no, even if the timing wasn't what I wanted? I wrestled with the "what if" all day.
Of course, at the same time, I thought about the experience of being pregnant before, the signs and symptoms I identified in retrospect, and looked for them all here. The only one I could find repeating itself was the lack of a menstrual cycle. Of course, that's the only one that really matters.
By Friday afternoon, I had pretty much decided that if it hadn't started by Saturday, the Boyfriend and I were headed for the Big Talk and the pee-on-a-stick test. I couldn't bring myself to do it over dinner. He was so excited at our plans. I had to wait.
I cracked, though, and emailed Carla. I had to tell someone what was going through my head. Someone I trusted, who knew us both and who could offer an informed opinion.
Before she answered my email, I had to leave to meet the Boyfriend. I shut my computer down, fairly certain that Saturday held hours of "listen, we need to talk..." This was not a pleasant thought. No matter how I looked at it, regardless of how much I love the Boyfriend, and how much I hope we'll be parents together, I wasn't feeling very ready to make that plan a reality. I mean--we're planning a trip to Florida in September. Being 9 months pregnant might change my mind on that.
There are so many things we still have to learn about each other. I don't feel like we've passed the parenting checkpoint yet.
At the same time, I don't think I could go through the abortion process again. Especially not now, not with him, not when I'm in such a good place.
Halfway from Longwood to Park Street, standing on the Green Line, I felt that familiar rush of wet, that unmistakable sign that there was no Big Talk in my immediate future. If I hadn't thought I'd get arrested, I would've used it to fingerpaint "Halleluliah" on the windows.
By the time I found him in Borders, I was a different person. I was also a person in desperate need of a restroom.
I haven't shared any of this with him yet. But I feel like I should. I mean, better to have the "what if I was?" conversation than the "what if I am?" one, don't you think?
Anyway, dinner was wonderful. We ate at Maison Robert in the Old State House building. I'd never been there before. The food was delicious, the setting warm and comfortable, but very fancy, the service impeccably polite and friendly. He had a field greens salad dressed with a very light vinaigrette, followed by ostrich marinated in pomegranite juice over ricotta-stuffed spinach and shoestring potatoes. I had lobster and sweet potato soup, followed by bay scallops cooked in an apple and cabbage sauce with baked sweet potato squares. We shared an order of green beans in a light cream sauce with dinner and a chocolate souffle for dessert.
It was also, hands down, the most expensive meal I've ever eaten.
Valentine's Day hasn't been a big deal for me in the past few years. Not because I didn't celebrate it, exactly, or because I've been with men who didn't celebrate it, but just because I don't feel like I need a day to prove I'm in love. I've taken the attitude of "it's nice to have an excuse, but it's not that different from any other random day," and it's worked for me. Last year, I gave the Boyfriend a pair of fleece boxer shorts, bright red, and he gave me a collection of my favorite bath stuff. We had dinner at a nice place, but it wasn't a huge, fancy dinner, and with the exception of our rude waiter (you Mediarama readers know what I'm talking about--the rest of you will have to wait for another day to hear that story!), it was a nice night, but not that different from any other.
After we finished dinner, while we were waiting for dessert, the Boyfriend reached into his bag and pulled out a small wrapped package and a card. He handed them to me and smiled.
The card is one of those little kids in soft colors photos--she's dressed in white, he's in a little suit, kissing the back of her hand. The inside reads, "I've been waiting for someone like you all my life. Happy Valentine's Day." Under that, he'd written, "Sometimes, I'm just in awe at just how happy we are together, and I can't think of anything I'd rather do than just spend time with you. I love you so very much."
I'm all teary all over again, retyping the words.
The box contained a pair of earrings, pearls with little diamonds attached. They are very elegant and absolutely beautiful.
I am in awe.
Today, he drove me back to my mom's, left, did his errands, came back to have dinner with us, then brought me home again before he went back to his house. As he was putting on his shoes, he said to me, "I really do look forward to the time when I don't have to leave you to go home, when home for you is the same place as home for me."
I smiled and agreed that it would be nice.
He said, "So tell me, Jennifer, are you ready to talk about planning that? Not that we necessarily have to set a date, but just to start talking about timing?"
Quite a thing to throw at me on his way out the door.
I'm still not exactly sure of how I answered him.
Yup, there's a lot of stuff running around in my head right now.
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