I want "everyone" reading this blog to know that I share many very personal, somewhat private feelings here. I honestly use this blog as a quick journaling tool. It is a lot faster for me to type, and a bit less painful, as well.

Ava and I were invited to spend Christmas at my sister and brother-in-laws home. We asked to stay the night the night before, and therefore, were going to be a part of their Christmas Eve pj & The Polar Express tradition. Some days being surrounded by a pack of kids is just what I need to make it to the next day, but sometimes seeing a baby makes me plain ol' angry. This night, the heart break of not being able to carry a baby further than 7 weeks or so slapped me in the face and kicked me in the shins.

I needed a moment - or maybe several hours until the crowd left - to try to keep myself together.

I was followed. I was told that it was my weight that kept me from experiencing the bearing of children. True. To some extent, anyway. I was also told that it was my weight that kept my back in such pain all the time. Maybe. Or it could be the fact that I literally busted my back caring for my 80+ year old, bed-ridden Grandfather, and that my weight simply exacerbates it. I was also told that it was my weight that kept intimate moments - not so intimate. Wow. What a blow. I know, without a doubt, that my weight causes many to... think. To put it nicely.

Then the next day to be told by another person that it was my weight that kept them from being able to tickle me without me hurting. Yeah, maybe. But, I really don't like to be tickled. Regardless of my back.

I am angry. I am angry at mothers and fathers, especially mothers, who are blessed with babies - and then complain about the sleepless nights. I am angry that mothers complain about the hyperactivity. I am angry with the mothers who loose their patience so easily. I am angry at the mothers who place other things/activities/people about their children. Why have you been blessed with a child? Why have you been blessed with children? I would just like one. Just one.

Stop complaining. Stop whining. I'll trade my nights for yours. In a heart beat.