I should have known better than to have confided in my Mother about our upcoming treatment in January, but she seemed so supportive in previous calls. We actually bonded a bit over my pre-hypertension blood pressure -- as she battles high bp -- and chatted about the dullnes of a low-sodium diet and eating lots of potassium rich foods.
When I spoke with her about going on bcp for the upcoming treatment today she got a bit, well, weird. She started grilling me. Then she asked if this is what we really wanted and if I knew what I was getting myself into. Ummm, yes, Mother, that's why we've sunk tens of thousands of dollars in treatment. (Okay, I didn't actually tell her this, but one would think this would be obvious.) Then she proceeded to tell me that babies cry all the time and you have to get up at night and feed them, and was I ready for that? Jeez, my Mother is treating me like I'm 18 and trying to conceive. Yes, babies cry and wake you up but usually that's for the first four months, right? Plus, I have been waiting to hear a baby cry for six years and I will remind myself of this each time I get the honor of waking up to feed it, that is if I get the chance to have one myself.
After the call I turned to cleaning therapy and got all my frustrations out on the vacuum. Then I went to the gym and now I'm blogging. Starting to feel better, but unfortunately I was reminded that I cannot count on Mother Dearest for any emotional support. She wasn't there for me before and she won't be there for me in the future. I do love her, but unfortunately I cannot count on her. Not sure what disappoints me more, her lack of emotional support or my foolishness in thinking that maybe this time I just might be able to count on it from her.
Now I must prepare myself for the next couple of weeks at home with her this Christmas. Perhaps I should start building up the walls again to protect my feelings and definitely pack the journal.