Babies: One more thing to whine about

For those who have known me a while, or even those who haven’t known me long, it’s no secret that my biological clock is not only ticking, it’s going crazy. It has been for a long time.

Years ago, in what seems like a different life, I went through infertility treatments. It was exhausting, depressing, embarrassing, and all the other “ing” words I can think of. The hormones made my body feel like I was going through menopause. Hot flashes, mood swings, insomnia.

But the worst part was the failure. Literal and emotional. As a woman, it’s my job to have babies. I know it sounds archaic, but really, it is. And I want them. I will be a good mom. I had the best role model ever, there’s no way I can fail.

I realized after those treatments failed that they failed for a reason. The man I was trying to start a new life with was not the right one. Our marriage had been failing for years, and maybe the idea of having a baby made me unconsciously think that the relationship would fix itself if a baby came. I know that’s wrong. If a girlfriend had said the same thing to me, I would have told her that adding a baby to an already ill marriage would only make things worse.

And God knew that I could not be attached to my ex-husband for the rest of my life.

And so now here I am. Married to The Man. The love of my life. He’s an awesome dad, we’re deeply in love, and desperately want to add to our family.

And I’m terrified.

Alvin and I have been “trying” for a baby for over a year. And it hasn’t worked. So now I’m faced with the fact that when my husband returns home next year I’m going to have to undergo infertility treatment again. Hormones and shots and embarrassing ultrasounds. Counting and praying and hoping and disappointment.

But this I know: there will be a baby at the other end of the journey. Because this is the right time, the right man. The right family. And we deserve this.

I admit, I’m so jealous. I am. I am so jealous of women who seem to get pregnant so easily. I’m angry at those who get pregnant and are angry or disappointed. They just don’t know how blessed they are. And, who am I kidding, I’m just plain green with envy of anyone who is pregnant or holding their little one to their heart.

I’m happy for them. I smile and hug, get excited for them. I hold their babies and cuddle them close. It’s the oddest emotion to be so elated for someone I love, and jealous of them at the same time.

My heart weeps for my child. My arms ache to hold my baby. I yearn to feel it grow inside me, to rock her to sleep, to watch my husband hold her and fall asleep with her sleeping on his chest, to watch my kids’ eyes smile with wonder as they touch her tiny hands and toes.

I want that. More than I ever have.

My Co-dependency

American Heritage Dictionary - Cite This Source - Share This
co-de·pen·dent or co·de·pen·dent (kō'dĭ-pěn'dənt) adj.
1. Mutually dependent.
2. Of or relating to a relationship in which one person is psychologically dependent in an unhealthy way on someone who is addicted to a drug or self-destructive behavior, such as chronic gambling.
n. One who is co-dependent or in a co-dependent relationship.


You know, society puts a negative connotation on the word “co-dependent”. When we hear that word, we automatically think of weakness, not being able to take care of oneself. And I guess if you fall into the “Of or relating to a relationship in which one person is psychologically dependent in an unhealthy way on someone who is addicted to a drug or self-destructive behavior, such as chronic gambling. “ portion of the definition it is a negative thing.

But what about the first one? The “mutually dependent” one? Is that such a bad thing?

With Alvin gone, and with both of us missing each other so badly right now, I’ve been thinking about this word because, truly, I have discovered that I am co-dependant regarding my husband. It bothered me for a while. It made me feel weak and made me wonder when I lost my independence.

Then it hit me. I don’t need emotional independence. I’m married to my soul mate, the love of my life, the one person on this planet that I trust implicitly and without question. Why shouldn’t I be dependent on him? And shouldn’t he be dependent on me?

I’m not talking about an unhealthy dependency of not being able to function without the other. But I am talking about needing him. Needing to tell him about my day, feel his arms around me, give me support when it feels like the world is falling apart, making me laugh. I need to support him during his times of trial, to hear about his day, to lie on his chest as we fall asleep, to be silly and tease him.

At the heart of it, it’s intimacy. It’s the intimate part of “us” that I’m so heart sick for. Hearing his voice throughout the day is great, and I look forward to it, but it doesn’t take the place of looking in his eyes as he’s talking to me, or holding his hand while we walk, or even just sitting next to him at our dinner table while our family says Grace and shares stories from our day.

I miss it all.

If that makes me co-dependent, so be it. Because I’m certainly not alone. Everyday my husband tells me that he misses me and needs me, that he loves me more than he can tell me and that I am his whole world.

Being co-dependent isn’t such a bad gig.

Happy Anniversary!

It’s been one year today since I became Mrs. Alvin J Proby, Jr. One year. But it feels like it was yesterday. I remember everything; feeling annoyed that everyone that morning was running late. Feeling anxious because traffic down to Ft Lewis was backed up and we were late getting to the church. Then the hustle and bustle of getting dressed, watching my girls get dressed, having people come in and out, letting me know what Alvin was up to and what was getting done.

Then putting my dress on and feeling like the most beautiful woman to ever wear a white dress. I’d love to just wear that dress around the house.

But when I saw him for the first time that day, everything in me went calm. It didn’t matter that we were late, or that my hair wasn’t exactly the way I wanted. All that mattered was that this man, this kind, amazing, wonderful man, wanted to marry me. Me.

When we stood there and said our vows, I knew that we were both speaking from our hearts.

“I love you. You are my best friend. I promise to encourage and inspire you, to laugh with you and to comfort you in times of sorrow and struggle. I promise to love you in good times and in bad, when life seems easy, and when it is hard, when our love is simple and when it is an effort, in times of deployment and non-deployment. I promise to cherish you and always hold you in the highest regard. These things I give to you today, and as long as we both shall live.”

I loved our vows because they were personal to us and our life, and because they are true. Every word. And “in times of deployment and non-deployment” is what we are living right now, one year after taking these vows before our loved ones and God. And amazingly, I love him more now than I did then, and I didn’t know that was possible. But I realize, our love will continue to grow. With time, as our family changes and grows, as we endure ups and downs, struggles, sorrows, triumphs, joys, our love will grow and change and mature. But one thing will never change. I love him, with all that I am.

Now and forever.