Lake Tahoe is beautiful. I just wish my husband had been with me. I really missed him. I am usually so glad to be out among the living but last night, I was just glad to come home.



Unfortunately, we had made prior arrangements to meet friends for dinner and I had to meet everyone (including my husband) at the restaurant. There was no time to go home and change from my pink "Lake Tahoe" sweater, black winter pants, ugly Uggs and my hair in a high pony tail. Everyone else was dressed appropriately. I was so very happy to see my husband that I found it difficult to concentrate on anyone else. I saw and heard them but I was not really listening. I just wanted to go home, take a shower, and have some peace.



Before my very eyes, the conversation went from the three couples discussing going to Europe in a year, to actually deciding the itinerary and a brainstorming session of who wanted to go where and what month would be best (Spring or Fall) and I found myself nodding and smiling and getting wrapped up in the moment. Italy (Lake Como), Greece (Isles), and adding in wine tasting (Rhone region). Somehow, I felt disconnected but hey, I like to travel, I have a hard time getting my husband to commit to a vacation and it all sounded so fantastic.



It wasn't until I was back in my car, driving home, that I realized the reason for my angst.



I should have been racing home from dinner to see my children, I should have had to relieve my babysitter, I should have never been able to go to Lake Tahoe with girlfriends because of my children or child or at the very least, because of my pregnancy.


I am going to call my friends today and inform them that my lovely M. and I will not be going to Europe with them. I will not be a part of the next meeting and I will not be researching on the internet all the who's what's and where's of Lake Como, the Greek Isles, and the Rhone region of France.



Those places will always be there for me. I want a child. I want a baby. I want to be a mother.



I told M. when we got home and settled that I didn't want to go on the trip. That I can't go on that trip. If I keep planning that trip, that means that I am completely giving up on my babies. To be able to go on that trip, means that I failed at becoming a mother. If I am beebopping around Europe in the Fall of 2005 or the Spring of 2006, that means that I never got pregnant. I am not going to plan for that failure.



My husband looked at me with caring, sad eyes. I knew in his look that he has given up on our children. He is very brilliant and very logical and he knows it is extremely unlikely that we will ever have our own child. He gives me the gift of letting Hope stay in our home.



Hope is not the bitch, Surrender is.



I feel so under the gun.



I can't stop trying.


I can't stop crying.