Monday, August 22, 2011

Do I Save It, Just In Case?


6 months pregnant.  The best part.  No morning sickness.  No waddle.  No kankles.  And, shopping!  I am determined to find anything I might ever need for this baby, and I will be prepared.  My goal--as organic as possible.  

It's a $400 bassinet!  Pottery Barn.  I love PB.  Like there could be anything better than PB...it's PB Kids!  I love this bassinet.  It's organic.  It's bamboo.  It's perfect.   It's all my hopes and dreams in having this child.  I can carry the basket from room to room as I fix up the house.  I can wheel the bassinet next to my bed when I take a nap.  When the baby has outgrown it, I can use it for laundry.  (A $400 laundry basket?!  Well, maybe not the dirty clothes.)  I can use my wedding gown to decorate the bassinet.  It is tradition.  It will be beautiful.  I want this.  I want it to complete my dream.  My hope.  My expectations.  My reality.  


Reality.  Sometimes a little more harsh than you would ever imagine, reality.  I got the damn bassinet.  My wonderful-amazing-nothing-like-the-wicked-one-in-Cinderella-Step-Mother somehow talked my Father into getting it for us.  Little girl shriek.  I got it!  I got my dream. Or, so I thought.  But, things aren't always what they seem when you have blinders on.

I tell myself I could go back to work.  I tell myself we cannot afford for me to stay home.  I tell myself I love my job that I am good at it, that the school needs me, that the students need me, that the faculty needs me.  I love everything about my job.  Why would I ever want to leave?  Then, I hold my son.  This amazing and beautiful life, that my husband and I made, that's dependent on us for everything...that's it.  Reality.  My dream.  My expectations.  All changed...forever.

I would have never guessed that leaving my job would have upset my Father so, but it did.  Our relocation was the final nail in the coffin ending our relationship.  He doesn't speak to me.  He doesn't know his grandchild.  The pain, of me not choosing his life goals, was too much for him to bare.  He says, "You are ruining your life, Aubrey.  I cannot watch this destruction."  Destruction?  The financial losses because I am choosing to stay home and care for my son?  Uh, okay.  There is nothing I can do.  Nothing I can say.  The rejection is painful.  It is shocking.  All I have is a $400 bassinet to show for it.  

So, I sit here, 3 years later, in the garage, going through all of my stuff, and I wonder.  Do I sell it?  Do I set fire to it?  Do I save it, just in case?  Just in case my Dad wants me.  Just in case I get pregnant.  Just in case I can have that all-organic-everything-natural-parenting-style that I told myself I would have.  Just in case, maybe, I can hold on to the hope of those things.  The hope that my Dad loves me.  The hope that our next baby will come.  The hope that I am safe and loved and wanted.

Then the realization hits, that I have no control over these things.  Holding on to this bassinet will not ensure my Dad calls me.  It will not make me more fertile.  I am not honoring myself by holding onto a hope of rekindling a relationship that is dependent upon my sacrificing my own self-worth and convictions.  I am not honoring my family when I tell myself life would be better with another child.

This bassinet is not the all-giving powerful being I am making it out to be.  These false hopes...these unrealistic expectations...these thoughts limiting me from the now, from the present, limits my ability to see all the wonderful things I have in my life right in this moment.

That's when I realize:  what I want has nothing to do with some $400 bassinet.





      

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