Fantasy Land

Dear Stevie,
Well, crap.  I totally thought I had dodged a bullet.  I really thought I was going to be "okay" about your due date coming and going. "Fine" even. And I guess I was alright yesterday, your due date, but today? Today is a different story.

The week leading up to your due date, Dad and I were on vacation. For 10 glorious days, we had no responsibilities, no places to be or people to see, no worries. We stayed in a beautiful 4-bedroom, 4-bathroom "cabin" in gorgeous Grand Lake, Colorado. We spent our time soaking up the sun, going out to expensive restaurants, sipping iced tea, touring local breweries, driving through the mountains, and watching movies in front of the fireplace at night. I was so proud of myself that during what I had imagined would be such a hard week, I was having fun and enjoying myself. You were always on my mind, of course, and definitely the center of many of our conversations, but I was happy. Honestly, genuinely happy.

I guess it's pretty easy to be happy when you're living in fantasy land.

In that world, where the most stress I experience in a day is trying to decide between going out for Mexican or Chinese, I can be happy and content in the midst of my sadness. In that world, the world of red wine and good books, the world of no work and all play, I can make it through a week without crying. In that world, I'm so brave.

But today, here in the real world, I'm just a mess.

Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to have the end of my vacation and the end of my pregnancy journey coincide so perfectly. I mean, it's hard enough re-entering the real world after a trip to fantasy land as it is. Throw in an unfulfilled due date, and the transition becomes almost unbearable, I guess.

I woke up this morning with a quivering lip and a lump in the back of my throat. Up until yesterday, I was "supposed" to be pregnant. I should have been [blank] weeks pregnant for the last three months. Up until yesterday, I wasn't "supposed" to have you in my arms. I wasn't supposed to be a mommy quite yet.

Today, I should be a mommy. Today marks the "I should have a [blank] month old" stage. Instead of wishing I was still pregnant, now I wish I was kissing your sweet face and ticking your toes.

Most of the time I try to stay as positive as I can. But today I just can't do it. I don't want to be going to work and doing all the stuff I was supposed to be on maternity leave for. I'm sick of having to walk by your crib with no baby in it every freaking time I have to use the bathroom. I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only one that cares, and of feeling like some sort of crazy person for caring so much. I can't take another past-due bill in the mailbox from the OB clinic or hospital or Anesthesiologist who are making me pay, thousands of dollars, for the worst thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life.

Can I please go back to fantasy land?

I miss you, Baby. I want you back more than I could ever put into words.

Love,
Mom