There is superstition ...
As silly as this may seem, I longer play games of chance. Nor, will I assume that my future will always be brighter just because someone once uttered the words, "Lightning doesn't strike twice."
As much as I love Chinese food, I no longer accept the customary dessert of fortune cookies. I have tired of putting what's left of my fragile hope into believing a stupid, uplifting statement on a cheap piece of paper that's stuck in a cookie. Thanks, but I'll skip dessert.
As innocent as investing in a lottery ticket seems, I have nothing to gain by participating. I won my lottery jackpot when my son was diagnosed with multiple, severe heart defects. After his diagnosis, many medical professionals referred to his afflictions as being so rare that I would've had a better chance at winning a multi-million-dollar lottery jackpot. Enough said.
If I'm ever fortunate enough again to "be with child," I will not repeat the same mistake of assuming that all will be well, and that at the end of my nine-month journey there will be a healthy baby to cuddle and love till the day I die. Nor will I accept any gifts from anyone - period. There will be no baby registries or subscriptions to parenting magazines or adding my name to mailing lists to receive discount coupons for baby formula. I was foolish enough to do it once, but not naive enough to do it twice.
As well intentioned as the world may be, with wanting to celebrate a bundle of joy's impending arrival, I do not have enough faith in happy endings that I can subject myself to that sort of disappointment by accepting baby-oriented gifts or offers. I have a house full of baby furniture and equipment, bath and diapering supplies, clothes for every season, picture frames, books, toys, and bedding, but nothing to show for it but a handful of sympathy cards, a blur of gut-wrenching memories squeezed into 54 hours, and two scars: one just above my bikini line from my C-section, and the other across my heart - the scar that will never heal.
And, don't even get me started on the supposed lucky four-leaf clover ...
As much as I love Chinese food, I no longer accept the customary dessert of fortune cookies. I have tired of putting what's left of my fragile hope into believing a stupid, uplifting statement on a cheap piece of paper that's stuck in a cookie. Thanks, but I'll skip dessert.
As innocent as investing in a lottery ticket seems, I have nothing to gain by participating. I won my lottery jackpot when my son was diagnosed with multiple, severe heart defects. After his diagnosis, many medical professionals referred to his afflictions as being so rare that I would've had a better chance at winning a multi-million-dollar lottery jackpot. Enough said.
If I'm ever fortunate enough again to "be with child," I will not repeat the same mistake of assuming that all will be well, and that at the end of my nine-month journey there will be a healthy baby to cuddle and love till the day I die. Nor will I accept any gifts from anyone - period. There will be no baby registries or subscriptions to parenting magazines or adding my name to mailing lists to receive discount coupons for baby formula. I was foolish enough to do it once, but not naive enough to do it twice.
As well intentioned as the world may be, with wanting to celebrate a bundle of joy's impending arrival, I do not have enough faith in happy endings that I can subject myself to that sort of disappointment by accepting baby-oriented gifts or offers. I have a house full of baby furniture and equipment, bath and diapering supplies, clothes for every season, picture frames, books, toys, and bedding, but nothing to show for it but a handful of sympathy cards, a blur of gut-wrenching memories squeezed into 54 hours, and two scars: one just above my bikini line from my C-section, and the other across my heart - the scar that will never heal.
And, don't even get me started on the supposed lucky four-leaf clover ...
posted by Sherry @ 12/06/2005 06:45:00 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home