Looking back, the signs were there.  But when you aren’t looking, how can you see them?

So today when my period turned angry and stopped me in my tracks, I assumed it was what I’m told about ALL my new ailments: It’s yet another sign of aging.

Then the flow got really heavy.  No worries, just a desire for good meds.  Then clots appeared.  Doubt crept in. Could I have been…?  Am I now…?

My mother-in-law is staying with us, and we canceled our afternoon plans so I could wear sweat pants and suffer at home.  She also got me to call my doctor.  He asked if I was sure I wasn’t pregnant.  And then the math hit me.  I mean, it was possible, albeit improbable.  So he asked that I take a pregnancy test and if positive go to his office tomorrow to be sure “nothing’s left behind.”

I called CS at work and explained things and asked him to bring me home a pregnancy test.  And that damn thing showed “Pregnant” faster than I had time to even come close to bracing for such a result.  Stunned, I walked out of the bathroom.  My mother-in-law was walking past the door.  I tossed the stick to her.  She read it and said, “NO WAY.”  Then she brought it to CS, who was running Sun’s bath.

I then went into the bathroom where CS was (and Sun wasn’t yet).  We stared at each other.  Stunned.  Then we talked a bit.  And I realized that CS was under the mistaken impression that I was carrying a viable pregnancy.  I clarified there was NO WAY I wasn’t losing it — hadn’t already lost it.

Then I went to the den and sat down.

Stunned.

Dazed.

Relieved.

I know I’ve posted about our decision to have no more children.  To do no more fertility treatment.  We were coasting along on a “if it happens” mentality.  But when you KNOW it won’t, can’t, happen, you accept it.  And although we felt that we DID have the ability to have another child, and it WAS our decision not to, there was a nagging hint of doubt.  What if we could easily get pregnant?   Have we just decided we don’t want another because of the stress/cost/etc. of fertility treatment?  Were we just “deciding” what was already a foregone conclusion without intervention?

And before I took that pregnancy test I thought, it doesn’t matter what it reads.  Either way, I am NOT having a baby now.  It won’t MEAN anything.  We have no attachment, no expectation.

And then I saw the one word. “Pregnant.”  And my hand shook a bit.  And my nerves shook a lot.

And I sat on the sofa.  Marveling at my own girly parts.  Our fertility doctor had said that if we’d wanted another baby, we’d maybe not even have to do fertility again because my hormonal dysfunction could sort of “re-set” itself after a healthy pregnancy and delivery.

And then I realized that for the past 3 or so years that I thought, no matter what that fertility doctor may have said to me, that I’ve ALWAYS been infertile and could NOT have another child without intervention, that I’d been wrong.  That yet again I’d underestimated myself, my body, and assumed the worst.  That I was just temporarily infertile!  That we really DO have a choice to have another child.  That our decision NOT to have another child is real.  And that decision is mutual.  And right for us.  So instead of tears, there was a small smile.

Tonight, I was liberated.

I CAN, DID, get pregnant without a doctor in the room!  And we really, truly, choose for me not to get pregnant, for us not to have a baby, again.  That nagging doubt?  It too flowed out of me today.  Once and for all.

We are going on vacation in a few days.  CS is a comics lover, and I love CS.  So each year, we head back to the city that married us and go to the Comic Convention in San Diego.  This year, my sister will join us to help with Sun.

I so look forward to this trip.  The beach on Coronado Island, where we were actually married, is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.  And each year, she’s just as pretty.  We were married in 2002 and did not start going to ComicCon until a few years ago, so San Diego will always mean the town where I got married, not the town that is the home to The Con.

I try not to get too excited; try not to get my hopes up to high.  Nothing worse than a disappointing holiday.  So instead, I spent the better part of today preparing.  Writing lists of things we need to bring; arranging for a house sitter that can also deal with our pets and my garden; confirming tickets and reservations; doing laundry.

I get frenetic just before a big trip with cleaning my house.  I HATE coming home from vacation to a mess.  While away, I think not of my home.  And so when I return and walk in the front door, I am always more welcomed when its neat.  An unmade bed upon my return can so undermine my time away!

So toys have been picked up; dishes cleaned and put away; a small mountain of laundry washed, dried, folded and put away.  And suitcases have been brought from the attic.  Last minute matters will be arranged tomorrow.  Then we are off to that catch that plane!  It will be Sun’s third flight in her two years!!

The San Diego Comic Con brings out the people-watcher in me.  So get ready for some pics of crazy costumes and Hollywood’s displays.  This is the 4oth anniversary for The Con and is expected to be a big year.  Okay, so maybe I am getting a little excited!

CS’s mother and step-father recently came for a visit, and over this visit, my mother-in-law made a comment that struck me. Let me back up.

CS’s father was a bad dude. He died before I came into the picture. He left his family when CS was a young boy. My MIL alludes to how bad a dude her first husband was quite readily. Further background, my MIL calls me, not CS. For some reason, she feels more comfortable with me than CS. I didn’t realize this until CS pointed it out to me recently.

Ok, back to the comment. Here’s the setting: We went out to dinner their last night in town. After we ate, my MIL went outside for a smoke. I joined her with Sun in tow.

“Is CS always that cold?” my MIL asked. Huh? I thought, cold? Why, he’s not cold… Wait. Is he cold? “No, not at all,” I say, “He’s very affectionate, especially with Sun.” “He’s a great father, no doubt,” she graciously said. “But he’s so quiet. He’s like his father with his emotions.”

How do I respond to this? I never knew the man, but even his own kin admit CS’s father was a SOB. But there must have been SOME love between the two young love birds. And, dammit, is CS cold? To me? Am I turning a blind eye? What the hell just happened?

We talked a bit more about her concerns about CS’s feelings toward her, but the issue of CS’s father dropped. But it didn’t drop out of my head. And since then, I’ve been a bit more keen to CS’s coldness, or lack thereof. And maybe because I am looking for trouble I am finding it, but I do see coldness from him. Often, it’s just him being quiet after a long day, or him not feeling well and thus a bit quiet. But all that quiet gets so loud!

I don’t think my MIL was trying to plant a seed to cause us trouble. I think she thinks she gets coldness from CS. And I think she thought it was obvious and that surely I saw it. And looking closely at the two of them, honestly, I can see her point. And that bothers me most of all.

So, there’s that.

It’s wedding season here in New Orleans.  We’ve been invited to not less than six weddings in six weeks.   Some are the traditional New Orleans’ wedding: Cathedral ceremony and country club reception.  And some are less traditional: all-in-one wedding/reception at a room in a local restaurant.  And several in between: home ceremonies, French Quarter brunches, decadent escapades.

Tonight was the least frilly of them all.  After all, it’s on a Wednesday night. Now, I am not a weepy gal.  I didn’t get teary-eyed when I got engaged, when I learned I was pregnant, or at any wedding I have ever attended.

Until tonight.  Ok, I am lying.  I didn’t cry.  But I did get teary-eyed.  And that takes a lot.  So what did it?

Well, the bride was a lot like me.  She swore off marriage and kids just as I did.  Until it was undeniable.  And that raw emotion showed in her eyes.  And her unsteady hands that had to be held by her beloved during the ceremony.

And the minister was superb.  He called on us in attendance not only as witnesses to the marriage but as advocates of their marriage.  So that when one of the spouses called on us in time, as they will as our friends, facing a rough spot, that it was our duty, OUR DUTY, to vie for the marriage.  To rise against their walking out on the marriage as so many do nowadays.

Being married now, I always listen more intently at the exchanging of the vows.

Do you take this person, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and health, and to be true to in good times and in bad, and to seek no other.

Because when you are taking those vows, health and wealth and infidelity are far from your mind.

They should say, “Not if, but when, this person is sick, and you are too, and money is tight, because that day will come, and when it comes, do you still promise to forsake all others and be true to just this one?”

CS has engraved in French on his wedding band, “You and no other” for the days, and I am certain they exist, that he doubts our survival.  It’s there as a reminder to both of us.  We exchanged vows six years ago and I still feel complete devotion and commitment to those vows.

I do.  I will.

Always.

I am a “tight” knitter: my stitches are tight.  I have to remind myself to ease up on the tension of the yarn; relax my fingers and my mind.  I knit a cap for CS years ago, and it was a big hit.  It was a straight knit 4, purl 4 pattern, your typical skull cap.  Several friends wanted me to knit one for them.  I was happy to oblige.

The day I was given the (erroneous) news that I had a severe infertility problem, I boarded a plane for a weekend in New York.  That flight was delayed and we sat on the tarmac for what seemed like hours.  I was working on one of those skull caps for a friend.  My gauge was off.  Way off.  I knit several inches worth then ripped back to nothing at least four times sitting on that miserable tarmac.  All the while, my ears were plugged into my iPod listening to Bob Dylan.  And tears ran down my cheeks.  I couldn’t bother with what the 50-something business man thought sitting next to me of the mess I was.  What could I say to him to excuse my bizarre behavior?  No eye contact was the best bet.

After a few days, months, I would try that cap again and again.  My gauge was never right.  I’d check my gauge before starting, a task I loathe, and still seemed off.  I ripped out this cap another four or so times.

The yarn I had selected for my friend began to show signs of my struggle.  It was fraying, cracking, and in time, breaking.  After a year, I threw the yarn away and decided CS could knit the cap for our friend.  (He’d learned to knit Sun a blanket).

More years have passed and CS still has not knit that cap.  I am now picking that project up again.  I have a new ball of yarn.  Different colors even.

And yet.

My gauge is off again.  The size 8 needles I used so easily the first time are way too big.  Even 7s won’t do the trick.  I will be testing 6s this evening.  And as I knit 4, purl 4, I am reminded of that damn day in the plane.  And the sting of disappointment I’ve endured with this cap.

I am realizing I should have knit this cap years ago.  So now I am determined.  I will knit this cap.  I will exorcise this demon.  I will release that tension.  Once and for all.

Captain Sarcastic and I own a small business.  He runs it.  It opens at 10am everyday.  Every morning CS goes to the business, he leaves around 8:30am.  Occasionally, something would come up between 8:30 and 10 and I’d call him.  There’d be no answer at the business and he’d not answer his cell.  This didn’t happen every time, just occasionally.  What’s a girl to think?

I hate to admit I can be jealous.  I am confident in myself and my marriage.  But I am not naive, and I know people cheat.  I have asked CS time and again if he’s got a sweetie that he meets in the mornings.  I tease that if he does, God Bless, because I HATE mornings.  He assures me he’s just catching a bite to eat and doing work.  No lady on the side.

I believe him.

Mostly.

Tuesday morning, I was running errands with Sun and called CS to give him some news.  He didn’t answer my call.  Being close to the business, I made a snap decision to drive by.  And as I switched to the turn lane, my blood ran cold.  If he were cheating and lying, did I really want to know?  Wasn’t I happy and if it were a lie then so be it?  What would I do with Sun in my car if I broke down and lost it?  Where would my entire life be?  DRIVE STRAIGHT, YOU IDIOT, I thought.  But I knew then I couldn’t.  I needed to know the truth.  For better or worse.

Clenching the steering wheel, I passed the shop.  His car was not there.  I prepared myself that it may not be there but at the diner he claimed to eat at on the mornings he works.  I drove the short distance to the restaurant.  While making a U-turn, I saw him.  He was sitting at an outdoor table.  Alone.

Alone.

Happily alone.

I called him and told him I could see him.  He looked up and waved to me.  I confessed my expedition.  He asked if now I’d let the topic of him cheating on me drop.  I asked if his girlfriend was just inside getting a coke, only half joking.

Then I drove on.  My doubts quealled at last.  Back to my life of calm domesticity.

Sun is napping.  CS and Pete are at lunch with Katie and Daisy.  The TV is off; the dishwasher just shut down.  Hear that?  Nothing sounds sooo good.

So why am I enjoying the quiet?  Allow me to recap.

Thursday night: Krewe of Babylon and Knights of Chaos.  Left before Muses.  Loved Babylon and Chaos.  Great representation of the traditional and satirical parade, respectively.

Friday night: Krewes of Hermes and D’Etat. Left during Morpheus.  No Sun.  Got to see two old friends riding in Hermes.  Even texted each other during the parade so we’d not miss each other.  What a world!  Again, excellent presentations of the traditional and the satirical parade.  Fave of the night, hands down, Krewe D’Etat’s Dancing Darlings, the Papal Police poking fun at the mishandling and injustice of the closing of local Catholic Churches.

Saturday: Krewe of Endymion at a private party.  Ahhhh.  Fave of the night?  Grilled oysters of the half shell.  The parade was just a backdrop to a very nice party.

Sunday: Krewe of Bacchus at my favorite family spot.  Sun and CS stayed home.  For about a decade now, I have been watching the parades that start at Tipitina’s pretty much right at the start.  I won’t say too much how awesome the spot is because one of the things that make it awesome is that it’s a much thinner crowd.  And we like it that way.  So if you are drunk and college-aged, stay on St. Charles.  Or better yet, in the Quarter.  Don’t mess with the family area on Napoleon Avenue.  My distant family has a home on the route and I have a house just off the route.  So this spot to catch parades is just home for me.  And it will be for Sun, too, in the years that come.

My neighbor rides in Orpheus tonight.  He’s in his 70s.  His wife is manning the 2 ten-top tables they have at the Orpheuscapade.  She says her daughter is the ringleader to such a big showing at the Ball.  Her daughter tells her that she blames her, my neighbor, her mother, for her love of Carnival because, my neighbor told me, “I dragged her to parades since before she was Sun’s age!”  I told my neighbor there were worse habits to have than a love of Mardi Gras.  She readily agreed with me.  I also mentioned this was Sun’s second Mardi Gras, and I could only hope that as an adult she loves it as much as her daughter does.

And tonight, Krewes of Proteus and Orpheus.  With Sun.  And her newly-painted ladder.  At our beloved family spot.  With Katie and Slappy and Pete and Daisy and CS too.  Oh, my.

I have a confession to make.  But not to you.  You, dear reader, will begrudge me little.  But I will confess here and hope it is enough.

I Google Mapped two exboyfriends today.  Why?  I dunno.  I guess to see if there houses were bigger than mine; in nicer neighborhoods; with better cars in the driveways.  I am ashamed that I cared.  But.  I am human.

What did I find? One ex, the more pretentious one, had a house no bigger than mine.  In fact, the house could be in my neighborhood.  What did I feel?  A bit of humor and frustration over his ability to make his lot seem more worthy than mine.  Fool that I am.

The other ex didn’t have a picture of his address on Google.   So I learned nothing for my shameful activity.

I am happy.  I fall deeper in love with Sun and CS with each passing day.  I have been cooking and knitting and doing yoga and feeling ENERGIZED again!  And yet here I am competing on some level with The Joneses.  Fool that I am.

Am I a lonely fool or do you do such foolish things from time to time too?  If you do, please share with me to make me feel less shameful!

CS and I take lots of pictures of Sun.  In the age of digital film, we are all amateur photographers with no costs of development to worry about.  At year end, we pick our favorite pictures and print them for a photo album we have for Sun.  In looking at that photo album tonight, I am humbled by how fast she is becoming a child and leaving babyhood and toddlerhood behind.

The thing about photographs is that you take the pictures of the smiles and the first good things: petting a goat, seeing snow, flying in a plane, eating Bud’s Broiler, holidays, and relatives.  You tend not to get the meltdowns, the disappointments: cranky, nappus interruptus Sun, fights over toys, spilled milk, busted chins, and laser treatments.

And so in looking back over the past year, one would think it has been all smiles and that it should have been all enjoyment.  And it just wasn’t.  Mainly, it was exhausting.  I am just tired all of the time.  I am not complaining.  It isn’t Sun that makes me tired.  But it is Sun that makes me realize that my tiredness is a deficit.  I feel regret in not doing more, not being more full of life and not basking in her seemingly endless smiles more.

But overall I just feel like the luckiest girl in the world.  It’s been over a year now that I have felt I finally got all I ever wanted and I still want for nothing more than the maintenance of the status quo.

(P.S. My grandfather is doing quite well–the clots have been cleared and he’s moving out of ICU tonight.  Once his blood thinner medication is where they want it in his system, he will be sent home.  Thank you all for your kind words of support and concern.  They were very much appreciated. –Nola)

While in the office yesterday, I remembered my sister was taking Sun for the night.  I had forgotten to give Sun an extra hug.  When I got home yesterday evening, the house was quiet.  Quiet like it just isn’t anymore; quiet the way it used to always be.  It was serene but hollow.

CS and I made reservations for dinner at a restaurant friends had given us a gift certificate for last Christmas.  We were shown to a small table with a white linen tablecloth.  I didn’t even think to look if this place had highchairs.  We ordered a bottle of wine.  And we talked; we talked about politics, the economy, our jobs, our very lives, and, of course, we talked about Sun.  We talked and talked.  Just the two of us, without interruptions to get food to Sun or move things out of her reach or entertain her to keep her from getting too loud and disturbing other diners.  No, it was just us, a couple.  It was decadent, like having my entire body dipped in chocolate.

But I couldn’t help but feel like I was visiting someone else’s life.  Like the life of the friends that gave us the gift certificate, who don’t yet have children.  They, like we used to, go to such restaurants at their leisure.  They don’t give thought to whether it is too quiet a place for a baby or whether the menu will have something a young toddler would eat.  Ah, that freedom!  How I miss it.

Having Sun was the most positive life-changing event of my life.  And I count my blessings every day.  However, there are victims to having a child: quality time alone with your spouse; quietness.

I took great joy in knowing I would not be awoken early this morning by Sun.  But my internal clock went off just the same.  So I groggily lay in bed.  Relishing that I could hear birds chirping.  I haven’t heard the birds in over a year.