Sunday, November 21, 2010

the waffle cone

I had a great weekend, so I should have known that the other shoe would soon drop.  Yesterday I went to a thirty-one gifts party with Brooke (my bestie), and I didn't shed one tear or even give much thought to 1-the pregnant girl that was there, 2-the lady who told our hostess that her daughter is 4 months pregnant and she's exxcited to be a grandma (and she really likes her daughter's boyfriend, btw), or 3-the numerous little ones that were at the party.  In church this morning, a family that just had their 4th child sat in the row right in front of me, and again, no tears, no heaviness in my heart.  This was progress for me.  That being said, and remembering that I'm pumping some hormones now, it shouldn't be much of a surprise to this emotional eater that tears would be shed over food.  Food that my husband once again failed to deliver. 

Jamie and I went to a Wolves hockey game with my parents tonight.  We had a great day.  After the first intermission I spotted some lady with a delicious looking waffle cone with twisty ice cream in it.  I mentioned to Jamie (while he was horking down his pretzel with nacho cheese and a Pepsi)  that I'd like one of those during the next intermission.  Fast forward through 20 minutes of hockey.

Jamie and my dad are off to get me my twisty waffle cone during the 2nd intermission.  Jamie returns with a flipping shot glass full of plain vanilla for me.  WTF?!  I'm told they were out of waffle cones.  This is what he felt was an acceptable replacement?  Might I mention that my dad returned with a cup of chocolate ice cream, with chocolate syrup, and some kind of delicious candy on it!  What did I do to deserve such a subpar frosty treat?

I took one tiny bite and returned it to Jamie.  I let it be known that this was not what I asked for.  This was not what I wanted.  This was not ok and would not be consumed by me.  I got looks from my mom who mouthed at me to just eat it.  My dad sat at the far end, and I swear I saw him smiling and casting sideways glances at me as he ate his death by chocolate sundae.  I refused to eat the ice cream. 

Here's the thing- I know that Jamie is not in control of what the Allstate Arena has at their concession stands.  I get it.  They ran out of waffle cones.  But there is a whole gray area between a twisty waffle cone and a dixie cup full of plain vanilla.  Jamie's birthday is coming up, and I plan on making him apple slices, which are quite the labor of love.  Imagine how he'd feel if at his party I pull out a few boxes of Twinkies.  There's a whole gray area of desserts between homemade apple slices and cellophane wrapped sponge cakes. 

So we had to have a talk about how this made me feel when we got home.  I proceeded to shot my stomach with more heparin; I have quite the rainbow of bruises going on my stomach; and I got my estrogen ready.  After my shots, the water works started.  I just wanted a twisty waffle cone.  I saw other people with them, and I wanted one.  But I guess it just wasn't in the cards for me tonight.  I want a baby.  I see other people with them, and I want one.  I hope I get dealt a different hand.

I am just so mad at myself.  Instead of thinking about what a nice day I had, I have to dwell on the one thing I didn't have.  I do the same exact thing when I think about babies.  Instead of thinking about all of the wonderful things I am blessed to have in my life, I focus on the one thing that is missing, my baby.  I torture myself.  I can recongize that I'm doing this, but yet I can't move past it. 

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