Too Fast

I’m pretty sure my husband thinks I’m emotionally unstable.

Last night we were getting ready for bed and there were some items from Walmart still on the bed from my trip there earlier in the day. He picked up a few things and I did the same – one of which was a package of “My Little Pony” underwear for our 2-year old daughter. She’s been asking for “Big Girl” underwear and doing better with trips to the potty, so I thought this little gift might motivate (aka “bribe”) her to take the final step.

I opened the package and took out three tiny pairs of underwear and held them up to show my husband how adorable they were. I then fell to pieces, tears started flowing and I held the underwear up to my face to cover what I was sure he’d think was me losing my mind.

After hiding a little chuckle, he said “Are you ok?”

I just kept crying. “It’s going too fast!” I bellowed. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast!”

My erratic emotions are compounded by the fact that my biological clock no longer ticks – and this was just another reminder. A friend told me before my surgery that it would take a while to grasp this – I thought, “Nah, I’ll be fine.” But when this part of your womanhood is gone, a piece of your heart is kind of gone, too. My husband doesn’t get this. And while it was the best medical decision for me, it’s still hard. It’s only been 3 weeks. For my friend, it took nearly a year. It’s ok for me to cry a little.

After my meltdown, I decided that I’m just going to have to convince my sister in law or one of my cousins to pick up the pace and provide me with a little one to hold and love – and give back when they need a diaper change. Then all will be right with the world.