Umm Congratulations, I think

You’d think a healthy 31 year old doctor of obsetrics would have a seemless pregnancy. Bedrest by 22 weeks and a baby at 25 weeks it wasn’t.

I called my college friend to plan a visit in two weeks. “We had the baby Sunday,” she said. “Congratulations,” I feigned. Is a 25 week old baby something to celebrate?

Reunion Arm Candy

Leading up to my husband’s 20th high school reunion, I asked if he wanted me to wear something special. “Don’t you want to be the one with the smokin’ wife?” I asked.

Was it the Indian Food?

It had been nearly two years since I ate Indian food a spell broken last night.

My mother *loved* Indian food. She loved all things India and ever since she died there in December 2008 I have had no desire for aloo papri or pakoras. While I know my mom would have encouraged me to eat the most delicious cuisine on the planet as much as possible I just did not.

As I sat at the table last night with my chicken tikka masala I stared at the photos of my mom with me and my daughter and had a conversation. I laughed, nodded in agreement and discussed our business. Her reaction was more muted.

Today I am depressed. Dragging.

Tomorrow I am traveling with my husband and kids to his hometown for his high school reunion and I miss my mom. I don’t know if it is the trip to my in-laws or the Indian food or just a jolt of reality that is pulling me into the abyss.

I miss my mom 100 times a day. I’m still digesting that she is gone. Even typing the words passed away in India I’m in disbelief. Did that really happen? When can I wake from this bad dream? Or can I at least find the motivation to take advantage of my sitter and run a few errands?

Mother’s Day Mania

When I was single I hated the hype of Valentine’s Day, a Hallmark holiday that reminds all the single folk that we are still single and all of the couples that they are envied.

Sure there may be pressure depending on the length of the relationship or its intensity but it is still a fabricated day to either celebrate what you have or lament what you do not.

I’m beginning to feel the same way about Mother’s Day. The ads with little kids doing precious things for their mothers choke me up and I remember how lucky I am to have two healthy munchkins. Then there are the ads with my contemporaries and their mothers and I hate them. I resent them. I loathe them. I want to hurl rotten eggs at their smiling faces. It’s another slap in the face that not only do I not have my mommy, I won’t. And every year I will have to brace myself for the nauseating commercials where a mom and her daughter confide in each other how they are best friends. At least with Valentine’s Day, I could hold on to a shimmer of hope that the following year I’ll have a partner.

I will develop better relationships with my kids and hopefully one day my daughter and I can mock those cheesy commercials that surface every May.

Jealousy Dreams

I’ve had several dreams where my husband cheats on me. Not with a lewd affair or passionate but fleeting attraction, more out of obligation.

“Drink the Kool-Aid,” as he would say referencing cult behavior. In the dreams, my husband has a new job, not completely unreasonable as his niche in the banking industry is continuing to redefine itself, and as part of his initiation in the new company he must sleep with a co-worker.