For all the composure I've displayed this week I am quietly an emotional wreck. Several days ago my husband and I were invited to dinner at the home of friends who are expecting their first child. She and I haven't been close lately since she is joyously pregnant and I am in a perpetual, sour deadbaby mood. We make each other uncomfortable and I have felt her pushing me away for several months. I really hate relationship limbo, wondering if a friendship will survive, so out of curiosity of how the evening would turn out I accepted the invitation.
It was a nice evening. I truly mean that. Heart wrenching lowlights included the new baby stroller parked in the dining room, looking through maternity clothes to help her find an outfit for an evening out, finding out the baby was likely a boy (so much for my prayers that they have a girl), and hearing the selected name. At the same gestational age I was finding out my baby boy had no kidneys. I never grew big enough for maternity clothes. We didn't buy a single baby item since I was hanging out in the worrisome "threatened miscarriage" stage for so long. I'm not sure we would have purchased anything by that time anyway. And if I ever become pregnant again I don't think I'll be able to face a baby item until we know we are bringing a baby home. After delivery of a breathing, crying, living newborn my husband will have to run out to buy a car seat so we can safely and legally get it home then we can figure out the rest from there.
At dinner my friends husband confided that my friend was feeling a lack of confidence in her appearance and asked me to help her shop for some clothes to wear to a fancy party. So two days later guess who is in maternity stores searching for pretty clothes. For my certificate of sainthood my name is spelled A - N - N ... just kidding. I had to leave the store while she tried stuff on but no crying or freak outs occurred. She found pretty things, mission accomplished! I have been having an anxiety attack since then. I feel like throwing up then curling up and dying. But instead of digging my own shallow grave to wallow in I'll be digging holes for new plants.
Since my chest hurts today and I can't breathe or concentrate on anything I spent several hours and too much money buying plants for the memorial garden. Mostly little perennials that supposedly attract butterflies and a Korean Lilac which was on sale since it's blooming period has passed for this year. Shopping was a nice distraction and the suckiness of my garden is really bothering me so hopefully these plants will help with that.
Mentally I've been calling it the goddamn garden all day. Goddamn plants, goddamn planting soil, goddamn hand shovel. I don't want a memorial garden! I hate memorial gardens! I should be entirely too busy caring for a son to have time to plant anything.
But what else is there to do today? I need to fill time while waiting to feel happier, stronger, successful. Time to dig.