Selective Myopia

The vacuum cleaner stands at the end of the hall, remaining hopeful . . . plugged in, but not touched for days. The dust bunnies scatter as I walk by. I dig out a bill to pay and the pile of children's art, saved newspapers and various coupons slides off the counter.

One month as a working mom. One month of dust and clutter. At what point will I have the energy to deal with it all? I walk through the house with blinders on, trying to ignore the mess. If I can't see it, it doesn't exist . . . I just blur my eyes until they can rest on my computer and I can relax. Just want to sit on the couch and blog . . .

Unwanted mail

Did you know that when you check in to a hospital for something baby/pregnancy related, they sell your name and address to the diaper companies? It's true. I remember this from when the girls were born - we got all sorts of coupons for diapers and formula. The thing is, the hospitals don't seem to screen their lists to make sure there was an actual baby.

About once a month since my miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy, I have received diaper coupons. They change - from newborn swaddlers, to infant diapers, and so on, as time goes by. This is a much unwanted reminder of a hard, sad time. A quick stop to get the mail turns into a turmoil of emotions - anger at the god damn hospital and wistfulness about what might have been. Not that I dwell on it, but it makes me mad. I should get to decide when I want to think about everything that happened . . . not a diaper company.