My Life as an Axe Murderer
While one should not just run out and meet complete strangers they've met on the computer, sometimes things fall in to place in a most excellent way. Such was my meeting with Cathy yesterday.
Far from being sweaty, fat, balding, creepy 70-year old homicidal maniacs with ped0ph!l!c tendencies in stained tank tops, no pants, and a bag of mutilated appendages, I think we both were pleasantly relieved to confirm we're normal, and more alike than we had hoped. I only wish we lived closer. She is one awesome lady.
Coming from completely opposite directions, and having chosen a middle ground at which to meet, we both encountered the wondrous joys of Western PA road destruction, delaying our suggested arrival times ever so slightly. We had brought in tow the requisite chaperones, each of whom had their own shopping/browsing agenda to keep them occupied while we chatted away like old friends. I would like to thank our guys for being so patient and kind as we had our own time together.
And yes, it was HOT.
Cathy is every bit the warm and thoughtful woman in real life as she comes across as in her blog. She smiles, somehow. She is kind and caring, and cute and funny and all good things wrapped into one. And her kid, oh how cute that child is! What a boy. Sam, you are so adorable. And smart. Here's where I need to apologize for my own faux pas.
One thing about 'onlies', is how smart and mature they tend to be.
Now, why, you may ask, would I feel the need to spout out that nugget of wisdom?
In a moment of awe at darling Sam's conversational skills (and self-sufficient entertainment), I verbally marveled at his development. I in no way thought before I spoke, thus cramming my foot ankle deep into my gaping maw. One simply does NOT, and I mean EVER, refer to a grieving mother's live child as an 'only'. I deserve to be lashed mercilessly for that one. Cathy, I am so, SO, so very sorry. What I meant to convey, was how wonderful a job you have done with him, and that your future child(ren) will be equally perfect.
I have an 'only'. For 16 years, he has been my one and only. And, if my previous 14 years of infertility have proven anything to me, he will continue to be my only. We had long ago come to accept that fact, and moved on to living our lives status quo. Why or how I somehow managed to conceive, twice - and then lose them, both - recently is far beyond my ability to understand. And as much as I would like to delude myself into thinking that any continued efforts could net me another (live) baby, I really must acclimate my desires with my reality.
And this, my dear friend, is why I cried. I know you understand the frustrations we both face, even if they aren't completely the same, they are our losses, and we share them. I try to keep my emotions in check, and if you haven't noticed, attempt to use humor as my shield, but there are chinks in the armor, in all of our armor. I saw yours, too, and I'm not sure I adequately helped to patch it. I'm sorry.
Overall, though, it was a most wondrous day, filled with stories, feelings, laughter, sweat, tears, iced coffee (Yum, thank YOU), affordable designer clothing, and sharing a piece of our hearts and minds. I sincerely hope that we can meet up again, sometime soon, and enjoy each other's company some more.
Luv ya! {{hugs}} ... [a freshly showered hug, today]
Far from being sweaty, fat, balding, creepy 70-year old homicidal maniacs with ped0ph!l!c tendencies in stained tank tops, no pants, and a bag of mutilated appendages, I think we both were pleasantly relieved to confirm we're normal, and more alike than we had hoped. I only wish we lived closer. She is one awesome lady.
Coming from completely opposite directions, and having chosen a middle ground at which to meet, we both encountered the wondrous joys of Western PA road destruction, delaying our suggested arrival times ever so slightly. We had brought in tow the requisite chaperones, each of whom had their own shopping/browsing agenda to keep them occupied while we chatted away like old friends. I would like to thank our guys for being so patient and kind as we had our own time together.
And yes, it was HOT.
Cathy is every bit the warm and thoughtful woman in real life as she comes across as in her blog. She smiles, somehow. She is kind and caring, and cute and funny and all good things wrapped into one. And her kid, oh how cute that child is! What a boy. Sam, you are so adorable. And smart. Here's where I need to apologize for my own faux pas.
One thing about 'onlies', is how smart and mature they tend to be.
Now, why, you may ask, would I feel the need to spout out that nugget of wisdom?
In a moment of awe at darling Sam's conversational skills (and self-sufficient entertainment), I verbally marveled at his development. I in no way thought before I spoke, thus cramming my foot ankle deep into my gaping maw. One simply does NOT, and I mean EVER, refer to a grieving mother's live child as an 'only'. I deserve to be lashed mercilessly for that one. Cathy, I am so, SO, so very sorry. What I meant to convey, was how wonderful a job you have done with him, and that your future child(ren) will be equally perfect.
I have an 'only'. For 16 years, he has been my one and only. And, if my previous 14 years of infertility have proven anything to me, he will continue to be my only. We had long ago come to accept that fact, and moved on to living our lives status quo. Why or how I somehow managed to conceive, twice - and then lose them, both - recently is far beyond my ability to understand. And as much as I would like to delude myself into thinking that any continued efforts could net me another (live) baby, I really must acclimate my desires with my reality.
And this, my dear friend, is why I cried. I know you understand the frustrations we both face, even if they aren't completely the same, they are our losses, and we share them. I try to keep my emotions in check, and if you haven't noticed, attempt to use humor as my shield, but there are chinks in the armor, in all of our armor. I saw yours, too, and I'm not sure I adequately helped to patch it. I'm sorry.
Overall, though, it was a most wondrous day, filled with stories, feelings, laughter, sweat, tears, iced coffee (Yum, thank YOU), affordable designer clothing, and sharing a piece of our hearts and minds. I sincerely hope that we can meet up again, sometime soon, and enjoy each other's company some more.
Luv ya! {{hugs}} ... [a freshly showered hug, today]
posted by Julie at 2:13 PM
8 Comments:
Hi Jill... wanted to thank you for coming over to check out my blog. It sounds as though you and I are somewhere near each other (from the road destruction comment, which made me laugh out loud - it's true! every road around Western PA is in some state of disarray it seems).
I look forward to reading more and sharing thoughts. I'm sorry to have joined this community, but am glad for the caring and wonderful people I've found here.
Maybe we're just luring you in...false sense of security and all that. :oP
And I knew exactly what you meant. No faux pas there...or if there was, I'm too dense to be upset by it.
Glad you made the hockey game. Did you lay down full-body on the ice? I wouldn't blame you if you did. Though I think the boy would've been less than thrilled. hehehe
i'm so jealous! we need to organize a slightly broader area regional meeting!
Ok, DUH. I called you Jill, not Julie; I was on Jill's blog probably not ten minutes beforehand and my mind switched up on me... now I feel like a small idiot. :-$ So sorry!!
Yeah, widen your net a little gals, I need some real life mates who I don't scare;)
Sounds like you had a great day:)
Who's up for a trip to Australia?!?!
Would that make the club ATTCMAWPC Down Under??
If you don't mind sleeping in the toyroom (no one has complained yet - I think they secretly play with the toys when they claim to be sleeping!) then I'll get the beds out of the garage. Plus we have several couches and lots of floor space...so come on down!
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