By throwing back the blanket, hanging down the withered leg(s)

Today was the first day of using the daycare on base. Since Violet is mere weeks from turning 3, they've allowed us to put her in the preschool 3-5 group and the set up looks really fun. During the orientation last week, all Violet wanted to do was rip her hand out of mine and go play. But, alas, not today.

This attitude of separation anxiety is not new. But between today's tantrum and Friday's failed attempted for ballet class (her 2nd class; the first class went so well and she said she enjoyed it a lot), I'm really having a hard time not feeling horrible. But feeling horrible is the whole reason why we decided to endure the 8 month waiting list of getting into the daycare.

There was a scene in "Friends" when Phoebe told Ross that she didn't really believe in gravity because she felt she wasn't being pulled down to earth by an unseen force as much as she felt like she's being pushed. Why do I mention this? Because with my arthritis issues, this is the easiest way I can think of to describe how I feel. I constantly have to trudge through my days. I have good days where I can actually sit up in bed without having to grip the edge of the mattress to get up, but even on the good days I can't seem to will lifting my right leg to climb stairs. My right foot is turned inward most of the time while I walk, and the image of Kevin Spacey walking in "Usual Suspects" is how I can describe my stride. All is to say, I am using daycare not because I work, but because I can't do my job of being a Mommy.

As I wrote this, my eyes are tearing. Because I hate admitting that I can't keep up with my toddler and throughout the day I feel less and less like a lovingly patient mother and more of an angry tyrant always barking at my little girl. I don't want to be a mean mommy.

I want so much to feel ok. I had a doctor's appointment that basically just ended with blood being drawn for lab tests and a follow up that won't happen for another couple weeks. So, still no answers.

And, forgive the TMI, we've been trying to get pregnant and yesterday I was met with another indication that we have to try again next month. But even that is riddled with conflict because, as much as I want Violet to be an older sister, I don't know what my body will do with the severe pain on top of being pregnant.

With all of the physical and mental anguish aside, I do need to figure out my balance of being a Mommy and being a person. I have recently volunteered to help with the OSS welcoming committee and hopefully I will be going through training on becoming a key spouse. There are specific reasons why I've decided to do this, but that will have to be for another blog post.

For now, I think I'll start my first day of Violet's daycare with a cup of coffee, a real breakfast and chill out before getting her in about 2 hours. I sure hope she's doing ok right now.

Just to rant to get this out of my system

I hate my body.

Not in the way where I think I'm too short or fat or unattractive. In the way where I am angry I can't walk normally. My joints in my legs, back, neck, feet won't work properly. At 16, I first experienced the mind blowing pain of not being able to roll out of bed. I would have to grip the edge of something so that I could heave myself out of bed. Then my right hip wouldn't allow me to walk without a limp. Over the last 20 years, the pain would ebb and flow and move. There were a good many years where I wasn't afflicted with anything severe. Luckily, I wasn't completely debilitated during pregnancy. But now, I can't get up out of my chair at will without having to steel my brain for the forthcoming pain that is standing up. Or moving. Or even having a sudden, violent sneeze.

For a year, Scott was gone, so the understanding was to use that year as a nice buffer between children. When he got back to me, we'd start trying for number 2. We always wanted more than one child and Violet is enamored of other people's little children. Yes, I know it's different, but we wanted it. But I just can't seem to have it happen. I know it's not my timing, and there is a strong possibility that having our own again will happen. I'm considering adoption, but that's not the step yet. I just can't let the sadness of not being pregnant go yet. I've always had a 'deadline' of sorts because I know how faulty my body is. There is no way we can keep up with an infant/toddler/young child past a certain age, and sadly, my body had decided to act like an 80 year old with severe osteoporosis.

Soon, I will completely have to reconcile this possible loss. I'm on my last little bit of hope of becoming pregnant, but optimism is fading fast. So, I spend a little bit of my day to day spontaneously crying for my stupid body and how much I hate things being beyond my control.