In less than a month, I will have some 30-plus women at my house for a baby shower. Three of whom are heavily pregnant. First off, I don’t think I have 30 female friends to invite unless I invite all my family and coworkers, which this invitee list doesn’t take into account, so that already makes me inferior in the friend department. Secondly, I know having three preggers in attendance will really stir my womb envy.
My solution, to fill the hole in my womb with an insane amount of home improvements. I think it’s my not-so subconscious way of saying if my life can’t be perfect, at least my house can be.
And it’s not like our house is a shit hole, I just want it to look perfect, to be this perfect host for my best friend’s shower. I’m replacing the flooring in our entryway, painting the trim to the house, planting flowers throughout the yard, finishing painting the kitchen cabinets, finishing installing the pressed tin backsplash, etc. All things I want done and am in the process of doing, but now I’ve got a May 20 deadline looming.
Insane? Totally. But it is something I can control. Abnormal paps, IVF, PGD have all left me feeling out of control. Yes, we as a couple decided to do IVF rather than take the 50-50 odds of passing on OI to our children. Yes, I decided that I’d wait two months to have the pap I should have had in December.
But we’re never going to have the chance to try naturally for healthy children because it’s a risk at this point I’m unwilling to make. Our future family isn’t something that can spontaneously happen in the confines of our bedroom but the clinical environment at my RE’s lovely office, which by the end of it, I’m sure I’ll have paid enough to redecorate and/or remodel. This takes away my control and I like having control and being able to plan what will happen when.
I just hate feeling like what I most want control over, the most important thing to us – babies – is something I have no control over. So, I guess the next best thing is my house and, apparently, showing off to my BFF’s friends how Pottery Barnish my house can be.
I know it’s shallow and self-serving and really isn’t filling the hole in my womb. The only thing that will fill that emptiness inside is children. I know know know this. But for the time being, it’s a band-aid for my wound. It’s helping me pass the time till my next pap and making me not focuse on feeling like a failure at this womanly born-to-breed thing.
FUP UPDATE: It is still there. One week, one pound. Very disappointing. I was hoping for those Biggest Loser moments on the scale when it tells me I lost 15 pounds. Mind you, I’m not 5’2 and 280 pounds just 5’8 and 100-something… So, I’m going to have speed up my walking. And do more crunches or whatever they call it on the Ab Lounge. Yes, my hubby bought me one in his sweet, misguided gift-giving way. He reasoned I needed it because I always was on the floor doing sit-ups. Boys are so funny.