In this place I am in now, things are strange more often than they seem normal.
Whatever normal is, anyway.
I feel like I'm completely distracted almost all the time about almost everything. Mostly because I am. I normally struggle when it comes to my ability to focus as it is, but right now it's as if all the things are shiny and all the things are shaking keys to get me to look at them and all the things are jumping up and down and waving their jazz hands at me in some desperate attempt to divert my attention from whatever it is that I am supposed to be doing.
It is seriously that bad.
I forget everything unless I write it down or put it on the calendar in my phone. And even then, I still find myself forgetting things or pushing them off not because I intentionally do so but because I am so distracted by the shiny key shaking jazz hands.
I've gone to the store to buy potatoes three times. I still don't have potatoes.
It's not just that, though.
I mean, I know that I'm distracted because I'm hormonal and because I'm trying my best not to think about and worry about the things that come along with being pregnant in my world.
But it isn't just that.
I am in a strange place emotionally. At some point early on in this whole incubation process, I had this moment of profound sadness upon realizing that my parents were both gone this time. I've never done this without them. I don't have anyone to call and give appointment updates to. I don't have any visits to look forward to, there won't be any more first introductions, there won't be any more stolen glimpses of them holding this one.
There are pieces of it that will be made simpler now in this world without them. Sometimes the truth sucks like that. Negotiating holidays doesn't exist anymore. I don't have to worry about duplicate gifts or anyone's toes being stepped on about who gets to get what. I don't have to have the conversation with my mom about how she can't just decide to stay here for six weeks without asking me first. I don't have to tell her she doesn't get to plan their birthdays or that I'm their mother and that it's my turn to do these things. I don't have to listen to the constant comparisons and the chastising of my choices as a parent. I don't have to nod along with the empty promises to really stop smoking this time.
I don't have to worry about whether I can trust her to be with my children anymore, whether they are in another place or just the next room. I don't have to worry about all the things I worried about before.
But, goddammit it still hurts.
It hurts because as messed up and twisted as our relationship was, as many issues as she had, she was the only mother I ever knew. And as much as it made my life painfully complicated and anxiety ridden at times, I wanted her to have a good relationship with my kids. I did my best to shield them from the negative things that happened, to insulate them from all the chaos. She never understood that, and she never understood that no matter how much happened and how much she hurt me and used them, they always still just loved her.
They still do.
But now she is gone. With her, she took whatever relationships I had with several other people, irretrievably damaged by whatever stories she spun. I know what really happened, I know that I did the best I could, I know that ultimately I had to do what I had to do. I know that they will never understand me. I know that they will never forgive me for the wrongs they've decided I perpetrated upon them. I know that things will probably never change.
And it hurts. I pretend all the time that it doesn't bother me, but my guard isn't as high as it normally is right now and reality is harder to hide. I'm emotional, I'm exhausted and I'm sad.
And I'm having another baby, a baby who will never know my parents and in all likelihood will never know an entire side of my family.
Some doors are just harder to close, especially when we aren't the ones choosing to close them.
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