The Un-Anniversary...

In 2 weeks we will be hitting an anniversary I never thought we would ever get to. I remember being so naive in thinking that it would probably take Mr. Farmer and I awhile to get pregnant... 6 months maybe. A year tops!... But now we are nearing the 2 year mark of officially Trying To Conceive. I'm not going to say that I'm mad or even aggravated. I actually think at times I feel a little blessed for all the time we have had together. Other times I don't... I do think we have grown a whole lot in the last 2 years. Especially in the last year. I feel somewhat calloused though. Not as trusting as I was back then. I sometimes miss that young impressionable Mrs. Farmer. The one who read from cover to cover 2 separate times: "What to Expect when your Expecting." Thinking that by the time I finish this book the 2nd time we should be pregnant! I remember thinking that if I wasn't thinking positive thoughts I could send bad vibes to my uterus.... I had all these cute innocent little ideas I had thought up. The first year we were trying I found myself buying clothes for a baby that didn't even exist! I had little toys and nursery decorations too! Now all those things are sitting in a wardrobe that was once in my own nursery as a child. I swear at times I can hear those play things whispering to me... Sometimes they are taunting me. Telling me they will never ever be played with! Because I jumped the gun! I bought toys for a phantom baby!.... And other times I swear they are whispering apologies to me. Saying how they feel sorry for the fact that I have a wardrobe full of baby things and no baby to use them.

Yes I know I'm nuts!! I hear toys talking! I swear it's just infertility induced craziness! But maybe it's not! Maybe it just took the infertility to make it surface. And that in turn is why I'm still not Knocked the F&*K up!!! I'm too mentally damaged to have children...

I have been contemplating boxing them up tight maybe double boxing them and then wrapping duct tape around the whole freaking thing and putting them in the attic at Mama Farmer's house. I think that after 2 years I probably should. I think I'm being a glutton for punishment if I keep them in that damn wardrobe. I remember how I used to open it up and unfold those little clothes and just imagine a little body filling those hollow little outfits. He would have his father's eyes, my cheeks, his father's temperament and maybe even my eyebrows. But now I just don't see him anymore.