Skip to main content


Tap. Tap. Tap. Whirl.

This is what it would sound like if my thoughts made noise.

I actually Googled "I am bored."

Spellcheck needs to get up to speed. Googled is spelled wrong. So is spellcheck. Go figure. I'm not fixing it.

I'm restless, fidgety, scattered.

I don't want to read a book.

I don't want to watch TV.

Or play a game.

Although I did play a couple.

I'm thinking about getting a drink, but the kitchen is oh-so-far-away. And the chair is squishy.

Carly is sleeping on the couch, every now and then her breath goes 'whoosh-whoosh, whoosh-whoosh' and it's a beautiful, snorty sound. She looks very sweet when she's storing up energy to do this with:

I keep thinking about babies. It's not that I want to have more babies, I'm pretty happy with my two perfect children. Perfectly imperfect children. (No, really Dad, I don't want more kids. I haven't changed my mind.) But it seems like 90% of the blogs I read/stumble on/pass over have 'time to baby' meters. It's just cruel. It doesn't matter one whit, to my heart, that it has been 10 years since I gave birth to my only biological child. My heart questions the whats and whys of not being pregnant since then. Not pregnant, no miscarriages, just nothing. The baby meters point to my 'barren'-ness, mocking me. Worse still, sometimes I think people are scared to tell me they are having a baby. Because they don't want to rub it in. But, seriously, your popping baby belly does give you away. I'm happy for people who are having babies. I don't want other people's babies. I want my babies. Which I guess, in Carly's case, is other people's babies. But she was my baby before she came here, she just arrived via a different bus. I wonder at times if I tell myself that 2 is enough to convince myself that 2 is enough. I still get my hopes up before I take a pregnancy test. I still hope that my late-night cravings are caused by a little swimmer in my womb. I still feel crushed each and every time the answer is no. I'll never get over it. I will always feel like a failure about it. I wish those 'time to baby' meters would all malfunction at the same time and never be posted again. It would be easier for me. And it's all about me.

My house is almost too big, there are rooms we never use. When Eric's brother stops staying with us during the week, we'll have a whole extra empty room upstairs for guests to sleep in when they come visit. How crazy is that? I know how lucky I am, trust me. We got used to living in a cracker box, all of us shoved together, and now we're not really sure what to do with the space. Most nights we are all crowded together in the family room(except Poppa, he likes to sleep in his chair in his room), tumbling over each other to the roar of the TV. It's mahvelous.

I tried to work on my Scribblins, it didn't get very far. My story has stalled and though I've tried to force it, the words just won't come out. I tried starting something new, but the well feels dry. Perhaps my restlessness comes from many stories all crowded together in my brain with no way out. Someone should hang me upside down by my toes and shake me.

I can hear the rumble of movement upstairs, the game of musical poddy-time that the men play, the creaking of bed springs under arms and legs, the ebb and flow of the furnace switching on.

I've shared much more than I intended.

My eyes are heavy, but my mind still spins and dances.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Whirl.


llegue said…
I'm sorry..I can empathize (obviously) and every once in while I do get a little twing that says to're half a woman but as time has gone on it's dissapated....and I don't know if I got back to you...but your story had me at a cliff finish it, look at the world aroung you for inspiration, try the inspiration of Tolkien and Lewis (the bible) good luck!
Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry. Which probably annoys the crap out of you, but I am. I know you don't want my pity - you want a baby. I have so many friends going through this, and I still come up short on comfort.

There's only one thing I disagree with - that you will "always feel this way." Essentially, you have to find out what the Lord wants with you - and then align your wants with His. Once you do that, you will be at peace - and happy.
taturner said…
I know what you're going through. Every month when "Mother Nature" comes I go through a new grieving process, all over again. If I am even one day late I wonder... then it comes; and then the reality hits once again.

And I hate those baby meters, too!!
Betina said…
Infertility sadness comes like a wave. Calm seas forever and them WHAM. A big one hits you out of nowhere and totally rock your world. Then the seas calm again and you take your 2 perfectly imperfect children on a hike and everything is good.

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

Fragmented re-introduction

I dreamed a dream once of what this would be like.  Of life.  Of patterns and songs and ticking off boxes to find my way. 

Trouble was, I keep looking at the wrong list.

This year's list:

- Turn 40 (check)
- Move again (check)
- Send the boy on a mission (check)
- Finish admin license
- Get lost (check)
- Get found (check)
- Lost again (check)

Wait, that went off track. 

Adulthood is a lot of getting off track.  And back on.  It's weird.

I thought at 40, I would have it all together.

But, I'm barely keeping it from falling apart. 


So, this is me where I am now.

40, working, waiting.  My boy's on a mission in Boise.  My girl's 12 going on 20.  My husband hates his job most days, and loves it alternatively.  Same for me.  We live in a small town I don't like very much and dream of going somewhere else, but we don't know where that is. 

I want to be a writer, but I don't spend time writing.

I read something the other day that gave me hope: Guy Fieri…

It feels like...

Having an (almost) teenage daughter can be...quite an experience. 

"I hope you have a kid just like you," so the saying goes.  Usually, you only hear this if you're a rough kid.  I was a rough kid - in some ways.  I gave my mom a pretty hard time.  And, if she wished for a kid that was 'just like me' to come along as payback - the parent gods smiled on that wish.

Today (after a pretty tragical and frustrating encounter) Carly said: I just needed to get mad at somebody.  I don't know why.

Well, if that doesn't sum up teenage angst, I don't know what does.

It also kind of applies to adult angst.  Some days I just want to be mad at somebody and walk around stomping my feet.  Today I felt like that.  In between good things, though, so at least there's balance.

And balance is tricky this days, too.

It feels like the house is a wreck (it mostly isn't, but sort of is).

It feels like I'm swimming in work and can't catch up (this one is very tr…