It’s not always funny, but you’ll live… Just don’t cry. Crying is for babies.

I want to have a baby.  I want to have a baby really badly.  I have a job that pays all of my benefits.  He finally has an excellent job with more than fantastic benefits.  We are married.  We don’t smoke or do drugs.  We don’t drink excessively.  We pay our bills on time and have worked very hard to minimize our debt.  We both love kids.  And most importantly, we don’t take ourselves too seriously.

My insides are broken.  Broken in a way that “it’s still possible to conceive.”  It’s almost worse than being broken all the way.  Then at least I wouldn’t have any hope to cling to.  And yes, adoption is an option.  But it isn’t the same.   I want a little person made entirely of me and him.  It’s still a possibility, but as we round on two years of trying and appointments and pills and specialists that possibility doesn't feel very big.

Yesterday a girl came in my office.  She was stoned out of her brain.  Stoned out of her brain, and pregnant.  I try very hard to not let my broken pieces get me down.  And I do a great job.  Most of the time.  Yesterday it took everything I had to not yell at her. To not scream, “I know your grandmother, what would she think? Does she know how selfish you are?”  I didn’t.  I didn’t chastise her on the care and nurturing that she should be doing.  That she should be so happy to do.  There is still a chance that baby will have a shot at a great life.  Maybe she will wake up, or maybe she will give it up.  Maybe someone will take that baby away from her so it can have a chance.

In December I had another girl visit my office.  She too was very pregnant, and she too was so high she probably doesn’t even remember being here. The girl was a little older than me, I know this now because of the newspaper. And the TV.  And the police statement that crossed my desk.  Her baby drowned because she was too cracked out to remember she put him in the bath tub.  He was two months old.  He didn’t even have a chance. 

The Casey Anthony trial just finished up this week, and I believe the jury did exactly as they should have.  They weren’t presented with enough evidence, or maybe just the right kind of evidence.  Maybe the media hung her out as guilty before she had a fair trial and we clung to the media interpretation.  Maybe it was an accident.  Maybe her journal entry and fresh new tattoo were misleading.  Maybe the duct tape wasn’t a murder weapon because it was done after Caylee was already dead.  Maybe the research on chloroform was just because she reads about crazy shit.  God knows if someone ever looked through my browser history they would think something was wrong with me.  There is a lot of maybes, and for that reason I can see why they said not guilty.  But to me, the girl who partied and started loving life just days after her baby disappeared and died, she is a monster.  Regardless of her guilt or lack thereof.  She is a monster for not giving her baby a chance.

I’m not naïve; I know that things like this happen often.  I know that most reasonable people are sad when tragedies occur.  I’m not the only person who wants a baby of their own.  I know that things aren’t always sunshine and roses.  I also know that there are strong girls who recognize that they can’t take care of a baby, and brave enough to have their babies and then give them up.  I know all of this, but I can’t help but feel bad.  Tomorrow will be better.  Maybe I will even be funny tomorrow. 

Today, I’m sad.

 I am not going to say much here, it is hard on me but I know it is harder for her as a woman.  It is a difficult thing to deal with but difficulty seems to have been a theme in both of our lives and we have always made it through and usually come out on the other side improved.  

  If we do adopt I know that my wife and I will in no way feel cheated, the child may not have our DNA but he or she will still be the product of our love and will have a piece of both of us and where we may not have been given the chance of having a baby we will have been given the gift of giving a chance at a good life to one in desperate need.  Regardless of the outcome, our child will be able to read this blog in the future and besides learning how crazy his/her parents are he or she will also see that there can be no doubt as to how much we wanted them in our lives.

In the meantime we have her:

And she’s a pretty awesome fill in.