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Monica Bielanko
A chronicle since 2005 of my marriage & move to Brooklyn in my twenties; becoming a mother in my thirties; moving to Pennsylvania and learning to amicably coparent after divorce in my forties while living 3 doors down from my ex-husband in a small country town.
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Saturday
Dec162006

Intriguing Disappointment

Disappointed today. Because I got my period. Well, let me amend that. Of course, I'm ALWAYS disapointed to get my period because it sucks so terrifically and I can check off every symptom in the big book of menstrual symptoms... because I suffer from EVERY SINGLE one of them EVERY SINGLE month.

Bitch - CHECK
Moody - CHECK
Angry - CHECK
Sore boobs - CHECK
Aching back - CHECK
Hate everyone - CHECK
Hungry for EVERYTHING - CHECK
Want to kill The Surge - CHECK
Diarrhea - CHECK
Want to kick The Surge squarely in the balls - CHECK
Love The Surge - CHECK
Hate The Surge - CHECK
Want to rip The Surge's skin from his frame - CHECK
Love The Surge - CHECK
Love Doritos - CHECK
Cookie dough must follow Doritos - CHECK
Acne - CHECK
Fat - CHECK

Blah blah blah.. So, of course, as a result of the aforementioned symptoms, I'm always disappointed to get my period. But this time I am disappointed for another reason entirely. Earlier this month The Surge and I were irresponsible... I was shocked to find myself secretly excited by the prospect of becoming pregnant. I lay awake at night whispering first names that jive with Biel**ko. Visions of presenting The Surge with a positive EPT First Response Test wrapped in Christmas paper danced in my head.

What the fuck? I know. Right now is the LAST moment in the grand scheme of my life that I should be irresponsible and thus, secretly excited at the prospect of being pregnant. But I can't help myself. Tick-tock, I supppose.

And so today, when I got my period, I was disappointed. I am intrigued that I was disappointed. This notion of motherhood bitch slapped me very suddenly. Such the opposite dynamic from a youth crayoned with an unwanted pregnancy, a subsequent abortion and taking pregnancy tests whilst locked in the bathroom stalls of the Utah grocery store chains in which I purchased said test, sweating out the dreaded result. BUT. That was then, this is now. I am nearly 30, after all. My mom was divorced with four children at this age. Wow.

So. I don't know if I'm ready. I know I'm not ready, in fact. But is anyone ever really ready? Doesn't it just happen and then you change to accomodate? Either way, I'm intrigued to be disappointed over this months' visit from my Aunt Flow. Plus, now I have to put some thought into buying The Surge a proper Christmas present. Cripes.