Yesterday was another doozy.
The work day wasn’t so bad. Five home visits in a row, no cancellations. It went fast. I was home by 4:00. It wasn’t until later that everything turned to shit.
First, I was mad at myself for waiting a little too long to buy our concert tickets. General admission (which is what my sister wanted) was already sold out, so I bought us the closest seats I could get. It wasn’t a huge deal, but I was already on my own nerves.
Then there was the news–which wasn’t really news because we already suspected it–that Hubby didn’t get a fellowship that would have allowed him to return to his home country with a job.
But it was when we were waiting to pick up dinner that things really got bad. It didn’t start out that way. I was in a decent mood. I was thinking about Katie @ from IF to when. About how she and her husband were meeting the birth mother of their little girl that day, and how I was so happy for them. I said something to Hubby along the lines of, if we were settled somewhere, I would be tempted to begin the adoption process at the same time as IVF because it can take so long.
This turned into a huge fight. Not right away, sitting there in the restaurant, but later, when we got to the car. Hubby was upset that I was putting unnecessary pressure on him, when he didn’t even have a job yet. I tried to explain that I was still speaking hypothetically; obviously we weren’t in a place where we could adopt right now. Which led to him basically saying he doesn’t want to adopt anyway.
Which broke my heart.
Because we had talked about it. It wasn’t like I was bringing up the idea of adoption out of the blue. I would say I wanted to adopt a little girl from China. He would chime in with a boy from Africa. But I guess he wasn’t as serious as I was when we were having these discussions. While we were both speaking in hypotheticals, his adopted children were more hypothetical than mine. And I still haven’t been able to convince him of the virtues of foster adoption.
What I was trying to convey–perhaps clumsily–is that I want to be a mother now. I don’t care where our child comes from, I just want to hold him/her in my arms.
So I cried, which upset him. Our last stop yesterday evening was the grocery store. I sat in the car, dabbing at my eyes, while he went in for what seemed like an eternity for the few things we needed. (Just FYI–don’t look at yourself in the mirror when your eyes are still brimming with tears. At least, for me, it just starts the waterworks all over again.) He did come out with a bouquet of flowers–I think partly because last time I got so upset, I asked him what had happened to the husband who would bring me flowers when I’d had a bad day.
I was tempted to go to bed early, but I didn’t. One of my favorite things about weekends is that Hubby and I actually get to go to bed at the same time, which doesn’t happen during the week. So I stayed up, at one point perusing our local foster adoption website and nearly weeping for the teenage kids and sibling groups looking for their forever homes. And I went to bed when Hubby did. I woke up feeling run-over, with a slight headache.
So when Hubby invited me to go to the growers’ market with him this morning, I declined. It’s a minefield of pregnant bellies and babies of all ages snuggled in at chest level in some kind of sling or contraption, plus toddlers and tykes in tow. And I was feeling just too fragile to take that on today. Hubby went by himself. But he still brought me cinnamon bread because he is awesome like that.