Seeing Green

I try to be super positive on this blog. I want this space to be about health and hope. But I also want to be honest. And if I’m being honest right now, I’d say that I’m having a crappy day. So this is where I’ll issue a warning: if you don’t want to read a Debbie Downer post, halt!

I’ve always been an envious person. Of all the seven deadly sins, I’ve got that one on lock. I am not at all proud of it, but there it is: my biggest fault. Now that I’m so keen to have a baby, and it hasn’t happened for me right away, I’ve been trying hard to keep this bad tendency in check. I mean, there’s always going to be someone I know who’s pregnant. And there’s always going to be someone I know who got pregnant in the first month of trying. I could drive myself straight into the nuthouse if I let myself be envious of every pregnant woman in the universe. Usually, I do a good job of containing these feelings. I am, after all, truly happy for the women I know who are having babies. And I do believe that it will happen for me too at some point.

But today, I don’t know. Blah.

A few people I’m acquainted with, in the blog world and otherwise, have had babies in the last few days. Baby extravaganza! And as I’m sharing in their excitement, I’m listening carefully to what they’re saying. Sometimes they say things like “I didn’t really know love until I held my child,” or something along those lines. A cliché, yes, but all clichés are rooted in some truth. And while I do not begrudge these new mothers their joy, I can’t help but feel envious of it. The green-eyed monster is like, oh, hello.

And if it’s at all true that one does not really know love until they’ve held their child, then where does that leave me? And where does that leave the women who can’t have children? While I’m sure none of us are loveless, are we missing out on some elemental part of life?

It’s these thoughts, my friends, that are bringing me down.

Get Out Of Town

Beautiful Vermont, the home of my heart.

Tim and I drove to Vermont on Saturday to stay at the inn where we got married. We could not have asked for a sweeter fall weekend. Leaves were at their peak of color, pumpkins and mums dotted every windowsill and doorway, and the sky was the most brilliant shade of cloudless blue.

We stopped at a country store:

We rode bikes:

We discovered a secret apple orchard in the woods:

We pretended to play tennis:

We even watched It’s A Wonderful Life:

But still. Even with all of that awesomeness, it was a bittersweet weekend. The last time we were at the inn we experienced crazy amounts of joy. And while there are still plenty of things to be joyful about, I couldn’t help but notice the contrast between then and now.

I still thought about my mom all weekend. I still obsessed about the fact that I hadn’t ovulated yet this cycle. I still worried about a lot of things. The cares of my daily life were there, but they were muted just enough to allow me to enjoy the scenery and appreciate my time with Tim.

One of the last things we did before leaving was to trek out to the meadow where we held our wedding ceremony.

Hurricane Irene gave Vermont a serious beat-down, so much of the land around the inn was damaged. The bridge leading to the meadow was gone, forcing us to take a roundabout route.

It wasn’t much of a meadow anymore, but it was still there.

So we stood on the approximate spot where we tied the knot last August and said our vows to each other again.

And although our one-year anniversary has come and gone, I’d like to raise a cranberry and club soda in toast. A toast to another 50 years of marriage. A toast to the hope that most of those years will be less bumpy than the first. A toast to the wild, wonderful children we will have. And, finally, a toast to my mom, who will love the crap out of those crazy-ass children for many years to come.


The Vows:
I will make you laugh when you’re sad.
I will take care of you when you’re sick.
I will support your dreams.
I will be your lifelong teammate, yet never lose sight of your individuality.
I will be the ear that listens to you, the shoulder you cry on.
I will be a stable force in your life, your shelter from the world.
I will always be kind.
I will be loyal, faithful and true.
I will love you to the end of this life and beyond.
Because of you, I am the luckiest person on earth.

Marriage, Year One

One year ago today, I married this guy.

The person, not the llama. Although, that llama is pretty sweet.

A lot has happened in one year: no less than five dental surgeries (all mine), a cancer scare, fertility issues. The death of a childhood best friend. Life outside our home was rocky, but now that I’m looking back, I realize all of these things brought the two of us closer.

I’ll be honest here. When we married, I didn’t feel like Tim was my other half, my missing puzzle piece or any of those other cliché phrases. I didn’t even necessarily think of him as my best friend. I refused to use that title, on principle. I’ve had the same best friend for thirteen years, thank you very much, and I felt that calling Tim my best friend would in some way erase my past history. I worried it would negate the strong female friendships I had worked so hard to develop all of my life.

All I knew, for certain, was that I loved the crap out of Tim. And he loved the crap out of me. So we got hitched.

At the time, it felt like a huge leap of faith. And I suppose every marriage is. I remember telling my friends that I felt like I was jumping off a cliff. A cliff of awesomeness, but a cliff all the same. I had only known Tim for two and a half years before we tied the knot, so it’s not like we had years and years of shared history together. We had very little past experience to tell us how well we would weather future troubles.

But now, one year later, everything feels different. Obviously, I believed that Tim and I could make our marriage last a lifetime or I wouldn’t have entered into the commitment in the first place. But now I know it. I know we’re good for the long haul. I just do. I don’t know if it was all of the external stressors that did it, but I feel closer to Tim than I’d ever thought was possible. He is my partner in the truest sense of the word.

And dare I say it? He is my best friend.

So when I get all crazy in the head and start thinking things like, “I don’t have a baby and everyone else on the planet does, Aaaaaa!” I have to take a step back from the craziness and count my blessings.

I am incredibly blessed. Baby or no baby, I’m still Tanya. I’m still married to the best man I know. And I have a very wonderful life.