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don't judge me.

don’t judge me…i blame the hormones.

Back in February, during my first IVF cycle, Greg made me mad.

Very mad.

So mad that I went to bed angry, woke up early the next morning, went to the gym, complained about him to my friend Teasha and came home mad.

Upon return, Oscar and Greg were still sleeping, so I positioned myself in the living room chair and I wrote a list. A very long list.

I was frustrated. I wrote down everything that I do and everything I have to think and worry about for our house, for this family and for work. I wrote things like make dinner, pay bills, do the grocery shopping. In included that I find time to fit in work and take care of Oscar. I constantly plan ahead and consider how much time it will take so we are not late getting somewhere. I make the plans for our date night so Greg and I have time together. And when I notice that Oscar’s jeans are suddenly hovering way above his ankles, I know it is time to clean out his dresser and consider everything else that doesn’t fit the kid anymore. Once that is decided, I am the one packing it up taking it to the consignment shop. You know, stuff like that.

So I wrote a list.

A long list.

On one side it read, “What Kara Does." On the other side I wrote, "What Greg Does.”

Yep, I went there.

The Kara list was long. VERY long.

The Greg list said: Go to work. Look after Oscar. Take the garbage out

Did I mention I was mad?

So I left that list in the kitchen, near the coffee (because I failed to include that he makes us coffee every morning) and I sat festering in my anger, in the living room, until he woke up. When he finally did, I gave him the cold shoulder and he went into the kitchen. Then he noticed the note. He quietly made coffee and despite my stubbornness, handed me a warm cup and said, “I understand that there is some imbalance here.” We both smiled.

That was all it took.

I told Greg that I know he does a lot for us and I am incredibly grateful. What he doesn’t realize it the amount of THINGS that are running through my head. There are so many things I think and worry about and I just need to share the burden a little. Of course, he was more than willing. Some may argue this, but I think the list helped. It gave me a chance to tell him what was on my mind and as ridiculous as some of them are, it was exactly why I needed to share it with him. He can remind me that I am being ridiculous or at least help prioritize. :)

Last night, a similar instance occurred. I got mad again. Really mad. As the evening drew near, I finished putting together dinner and Oscar and I began his homework. It was perfect. It was 6:00, Greg would be home anytime and we would have a Norman Rockwell kind of evening. Then I got the phone call. It was Greg. “I am in the West Hills, far, far, far, far, far away (okay, he didn’t say the "far” part) and my tire is flat and my bike chain is broken. Can you come get me?“

"I am gonna kill him,” I thought. Doe he not realize how MUCH I have to do?

The thoughts kept coming as Oscar and I loaded into the car to go retrieve him. “He KNOWS I have asked him a million times not to start his ride after 4:30 because it gets dark and I worry that some crazy driver isn’t going to see him and an accident it going to happen. But damn, if he didn’t do it anyway. Oscar needs to get his homework done and be in bed in an hour. Does he not realize how much stuff…blah, blah, I, I, I, I, I, I, me, me, me, me, me, me, ME!!!!”

Wow, I was out of control. Can I blame the hormones?

I was irrational and I wanted to pop Greg’s head off his body. Actually, I would have done that to anyone who crossed my path at that moment. The poor guy had to deal with silence the entire drive. When we got home, we had dinner and before I retreated into the room, I looked Oscar and Greg in the eyes and said, “My hormones are raging and I picked up the entire house today and it better be clean tomorrow morning when I wake up or I.WILL.BE. FURIOUS!! Yikes, I was in quite the mood. Earlier that day, I had told a friend I noticed my fuse was very short. This was becoming epic.

Greg did just what I needed him to do. He walked into the room, sat next to me, said something to make me smile and we were good. I told him that the list in my head was building again and the weight of tomorrow, as much as I have been trying to not think about it, was beginning to feel a bit heavy. He didn’t judge me. He let me have my time to vent, even if it was all directed at him.

So, in a roundabout way, maybe this is my love letter to Greg. Wow, Greg, you have a crazy wife. This whole IVF thing has not been the most fun thing to go through, but it hasn’t been the worst either. I am a very lucky girl and I want you to know that I know it. Thank you for constantly rearranging your schedule to accommodate my doctor’s appointments, not to mention meetings I have had to reschedule. Thank you for taking Oscar when you have seen my frustration levels rise. Thank you for dealing with the hormones and thank you for making me laugh. Thank you, thank you, thank you…for everything.

Oh, and can I be honest? I don’t even remember why I wrote that list.

love,

me

 

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