Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Forgive Me Bloggers For I Have Sinned...

... it has been over two weeks since my last blog. It's funny how blogging about IF is what I would imagine going to confession being like. You have all these pent up feelings and once you get them out in the open you feel cleansed, free of the things that were weighing so heavy on your mind that you can't just blurt out during everyday life. Blogging is my confessional.

Here's a long one...

I was never the type of girl who wanted to be a mother. I was the little girl who played with stuffed animals and Breyer horses instead of dolls. Rode my pony and spent hours mucking out stalls instead of Barbies and playing house. When I did have a doll it was never a baby doll. My dolls were friends, companions, confidants. When my childhood friends did force Barbies on me my Barbies led glamours jet setting lives without husbands or children. They were highly paid executives driving the silver Barbie corvette to their swanky office, while my friend's Barbies married Ken in elaborate wedding ceremonies and had little makeshift Barbie babies that were actually peanuts swaddles in Kleenex.

In High School I horrified my friends by saying I was never going to get married. I did not want to have children. I wanted to be a travel writer, a news anchor, anything that involved getting out of our small town and into the world. They would say "Oh, Bev... you'll change your mind!" But I was emphatic. Absolutely not. My single, childless life looked free and glamorous. I had my mind made up. The thought of being a stay-at-home mother horrified me. So traditional, so domestic. I looked down with disdain on the idea as simple, old fashioned and boring. That was never going to be me, no way. I watched the jets fly across the sky from the window of my classrooms and dreamed of the fabulous life I was going to have.

By college I had thrown the never getting married idea out of the window. I had fallen in love with the idea of being in love forever. How romantic. We'll both have fabulous jobs, live in a brownstone in New York City. Be connoisseurs of food and wine. I didn't dream about a wedding, but a traveling around the world style honeymoon. Italy, Scotland, India, Africa. My new outlook was even better than the original, now I would have a partner in crime.

Then the unexpected happened. The spring of my sophomore year my father was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. He was told he had two months to live. My whole world fell apart. My dad was absolutely everything to me. I transferred to a local school to be closer to my parents. My grades fell. Gone was the Dean's List, the Journalism major dropped. I was lost. The glamous job didn't seem to matter anymore. My escape plan from the suburbs from Oregon faded into a distant memory. The next couple months was spent watching my dad, who was my hero, the strongest man I knew, fight with everything he had against this disease that was slowly and painfully killing him. He refused to give up, and fought it even up to the sunny July day when he passed away in the house I grew up in.

My outlook on life was dramatically changed after my father's death. My delusions on grandeur disappeared with him. The ambition I once was so proud of seemed trite and silly. I transferred again, to a better school, but spent my junior year of college fighting depression and driving home every weekend to take care of my mother. I still did well in school, but my heart wasn't in it any longer. Losing my father had changed me. I didn't know who I was or what I wanted any longer.

One month after I graduated I met Rob. That was it. I knew I wanted to marry him the month I met him. I always scoffed at love at first sight but now I knew. I knew how my parents felt. That kind of love was no longer a mystery to me. When he proposed several months later I didn't hesitate to say yes. One night, after my poking and prodding him for input on the wedding plans , Rob jokingly said he wanted to name our child Macadamia. He was just being silly but I surprised myself when I started to think that having children wouldn't be so bad. I told Rob that he would have to be the stay-at-home dad. He laughed at me and agreed, pointing out that I was going to change my mind. No, I knew it. I wanted him to stay home with the kids. In a way I was still holding on to the shreds of my original dreams.

A year and a half after getting married we decided that we would start trying. I probably wasn't even ready for it then, it still scared the living hell out of me. The negative tests and AF showing up where almost a sense of relief mingled with the dissapointment... for a little while. It wasn't that I didn't want to get pregnant. It was the the thought of being a mother. Being responsible for someone else. The thought of actually having a child absolutely terrified me.

The silver lining of infertility is that now, almost two years later, I can safely say I'm still slightly terrified but completely and absolutely ready for this. I told Rob the other night that I think at some point I want to be a stay at home mom. He laughed out loud at my change of heart. I've come a long way from the silly little girl who didn't know that it is family that matters, not how much money you make, what your business card says or what kind of car you drive. I wish my dad was here to see it, my transformation. I can be both. I can be smart and I don't have to be Suzy Homemaker to be a mother. I'm just not that person. I still have dreams. I still have want to see more of the world. I can be a jet setting wife, a jet setting mother. It is the blending of two dreams. In the end it will be more rewarding that glamorous, but I'm ok with that.


This blog entry is dedicated to my dad, Patrick Greene.

Who made me realize that family is more important than anything else in life.

"In telling the story of my father's life, it's impossible to separate fact from fiction, the man from the myth. The best I can do is to tell it the way he told me. It doesn't always make sense and most of it never happened... but that's what kind of story this is."

- Big Fish

22 comments:

Melissa said...

That was probably one of the most touching blog entries I have ever read.

Amber06 said...

I lost my mom my sophomore year in college. It changed me too. This story is beautiful. I wish my mom were here to see me as well.

Tracy said...

That was a very moving and well written blog post, Bev. I blinked back tears at the end.

I think your father would be very proud of you for pursuing the best of both worlds. Good luck to you. I hope your dreams are soon fulfilled.

Congrats on your clean HSG and your supermodel reproductive organs. ;)

ams8099 said...

That was a wonderful entry Bunnies! As a faithful blog followers, that was well worth the wait.

Julie said...

Thank you for the inspiring words. Your strength is contagious. I love reading your blogs!

Anonymous said...

Wow! Thanks so much for being so open and honest.

The Leonard's said...

Reading this totally brought tears to my eyes...

You'll make a great jet setting mother!

Anonymous said...

Wow. That was so beautiful! My dad has passed away as well, so I undersand. You just helped me realize things about my own life again. Thanks.

Diana said...

Sounds like your dad was a wonderful man and would be very proud of who you are today.

Anonymous said...

I have really enjoyed reading your blog. Mainly for the great writing style and the insight you provided that helps me see things more clearly. This was an amazing piece. I think you can have the best of both worlds being a mommy that loves two jobs. Thanks for always putting your self out there.
CK2M

Anonymous said...

What a beautiful blog entry. As a previous poster said, it was well worth the wait. I know your father is very proud of the woman you have become; I know because I believe that he is still here with you in spirit. We lose people, but they are never really gone. They live forever in our hearts.

Elizabeth said...

Bev-
I've been following your blog for a while and have never commented on it. This entry was so moving. I know your dad is so proud of you and he is looking down on you. Thank you for your courage and I wish nothing but the best for you! I can't wait to see what the future holds for you!!
Sincerely,
Elizabeth :)

Jennifer said...

Beautiful... you brought tears to my eyes.

rnbound said...

i read your blog once as a link from one of my friends. i think i found it on accident lol, but i just wanted you to know that i enjoyed reading your most recent blog, you write so well! i'm so sorry about your dad, but you sound like you're in a good place and so ready now to be a mom! i hope that you get preg soon!!

Mr and Mrs M said...

Bev, I read your post last night but b/c of an update was unable to comment.
I just wanted to tell you how beautiful your entry was.
I truly believe that those that are no longer physically with us are indeed "with" us in some way. I believe that your father is very proud of you. What a touching tribute to his memory.

Lisa said...

What a beautiful tribute to your father. I have only recently stumbled upon your blog, but just wanted to say thank you for being so open, honest and eloquent about your struggles. God bless you and yours.

s.e. said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
s.e. said...

I happened across your blog from the lost and found list. And I may have to continue reading until you do see the two pink lines. This post is so poignant and heartbreaking. I can feel your strength. Your dad with no doubt would have been swollen with pride of the woman you have become. And since you are such an amazing writer, maybe someday you can still be a travel author.

SuziGibbs said...

Ah so true. It took me nearly 25 years to figure out that wanting the simple, beautiful things in life...to have babies and a husband and a white picket fence didn't make me simple.

Anonymous said...

What an amazing post! I've been reading your blog for awhile, and I know that one day you will see those two pink lines, and your father will be watching, and he'll be with you in that moment.

Anonymous said...

I cannot even remember how I stumbled onto your blog, but I am so happy that I did. This post was so touching. You are going to be an amazing mother!

Moni said...

WOW, that was a beautiful entry. I'm totally fighting back tears now. I'm sure your dad is looking down at you and SO proud of his daughter. =) You seem like a beautiful girl (inside and out!)
moniluvsmatt from the nest

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