To Be, Or Not To Be....A Parent

Mother's Day is coming up this weekend (which reminds me....Mom, you're getting a Mother's Day card.  I just mailed it late.  My bad!) and while it's always the opportunity to celebrate for my wife and I, it has also continued to be one of a handful of holidays that continues to tear out my wife's heart each and every year. 

It's not because her mother's no longer with us.  Nope.  She'll be at our house on Sunday for Angus burgers, or, as I jokingly referred to them ANUS burgers.

It's not because MY mother's no longer with us.  In fact, both my mother and my step-mother are still living, and I'll see Mom next week at my sister's college graduation, while my step-mother will be joining us for the afore-mentioned ass burgers.

It's because in 7-plus years together, my wife still isn't the one thing she wants to be more than anything else in the world.

She's not a mother.

For those dear readers who ARE, you understand what being a mother means to you:  that little life that is absolutely dependent on you for so long, then becomes the adult that can't wait to tell you how absolutely full of shit you really are.  (Okay, maybe that was just me......and a few of my friends.)  You're willing to lay your life on the line for that little person, and they are more important to you than even your spouse (especially if your spouse is a big an asshole as I can be from time-to-time).

Well, for whatever reason, fate continues to conspire against us in becoming parents, and as I come face-to-face with my 40th birthday on Tuesday, I realize the clock for a biological child is almost done ticking.  Especially when you take into account fate's other "funny" joke about me and my "little swimmers", who apparently don't know how to swim in the deep end.  And, they apparently continue to decrease in number.  Nice. 

Now, I know what you're saying:  If you're fat, why don't you lose the weight?  You know it'll help you out. 

No shit, Sherlock.  I'm LOSING weight.  However, when you're nearly 200 pounds overweight, it ain't like cutting weight for wrestling, where you put on the plastic bags, run around the gym until you puke or pass out, and suck on Jolly Ranchers and spit all fucking day.  Nope.  You go on a 1200 calorie a day diet, eat more green than a fucking rabbit, and watch the weight gradually disappear until your brain begs you for a couple of days off.  Then, you gain back five pounds because you just HAD to go to Taco Bell the day after having the prime rib special.

And, YEAH, I KNOW it's a matter of willpower, and mine's always been weak.  I'm working on that.  That's not the point.

Okay, so what IS the point?

Simple.

I have reached a point where I would do ANYTHING for my wife to be a mother.  I'm serious.  We attended all the meetings and gained our foster parenting license in the state of Illinois about three years ago.  How many times have we actually gotten to take in kids?  Twice.  The first time was a nightmare.  The second?  It was too, but in the "rip-out-your-heart-and-hold-it-up-in-front-of-you" way.

You've probably been screaming at the screen:  WELL, JUST ADOPT, FAT MAN!!!! 

Um.....fucking DUH!  Working on it.  We've put out applications and "scrapbooks" and written checks to a couple of different places, only to find out that while our books are being read, we're not getting picked.

Nice.

So, what now?

Here's the thing:  I'm not putting all of this in print because I'm looking for your sympathy.  In fact, I'd appreciate it if you didn't feel sorry for us.  Trust me, we go through it enough on our own to last several lifetimes.  Besides, if I hear another person say that "God has a plan for you" or "It'll happen when it's meant to happen", I'm punching them in the fucking throat.

And, don't get me wrong, I KNOW it's coming from a sincere place when you say it.  I get that.  The problem is that, if you look at those comments logically, they're actually more depressing than uplifting.  I mean, there are people out there who can pop out a kid virtually on-demand, but we can't have one.  There are people out there who have children they don't want, don't take care of, and abuse the shit out of, and two people who would cherish a child like it was made of gold can't have one. 

Sorry, but if God has a plan, it sucks to this point.

And, "It'll happen when it's meant to happen"?  Seriously?

So, what, then?  Am I just going to keep bitching until I turn blue in the face?  Am I going to give up on the diet, fall off the wagon, and decide I don't give a shit anymore?

Of course not.  Those who know me best know that while I might be down, I'm never out.  I WILL get off the mat.

I do feel for my wife, however.  While I can't appreciate all of her feelings, I do understand what it's like to really want something for yourself, not be able to have it, and see others who have it and don't appreciate it.  And, it sucks.  Big, round, hairy donkey balls.

So, for now, I ask for one thing from you, dear reader, regardless of where in the US (or the world, for that matter) you happen to be reading this:

On my Facebook page (Wayne Davis) I have a flyer Jen and I put together about a year ago to hang up at various places around Granite City.

What I ask you to do is make a single copy and put it somewhere where you think it might help.  Or, if you know of someone who's looking to put a baby (or a toddler, for that matter) up for adoption, point them in our direction.


Okay, actually I've got two favors, and the second is this:

Don't feel sorry for us.  Regardless of what happens, we WILL get through this.


Of course, we might just turn into the weird dog people with 100 dogs in our house, but we WILL get through this.