I'm an Alcoholic

It was Friday morning at 7:04. I just dropped Rich off at the train station and was trying to calculate if I had enough time to run to CVS to get some Halloween candy to appease my students anger at having to write a book report on a Friday and make it to Rays (our favorite little cafe-hole-in-the-wall) for an egg sandwich to make up for my lack of breakfast.  I, bravely deciding that since I now have pregnancy superpowers, should certainly able to do both and still get to work on time.

If I were any other person, this would certainly be the case.  Alas, I am not any other person, thus, the following occurred.

I quickly ran inside, plunked my large bag down on the counter, ordered a small tea and an egg and cheese sandwich to go from my favorite waitress and proceeded to try and wrangle a bobby-pin into my bed-head when I heard a throat clearing right beside me.  I hadn't noticed that I had sat down right next to an older gentleman at the counter, staring at me over his plate of scrambled eggs.  Oh, no.  I thought.  This always happens to me.

For some reason, I am a lonely stranger magnet.  They seek me out wherever I am like infrared detectors. I hoped this morning would be different.  I don't have time this morning.  Please God, I don't have time this morning.

"I'm an alcoholic."

Here we go.

He smoothed his graying hair and fidgeted with his paper napkin.  Maybe he wasn't talking to me?

"I don't want to be one, you know."

Nope. He's looking right at me.  Of course he's looking right at me.

"I don't think anyone really wants to be one." I said gently and smiled.  Green light means go, to lonely strangers.  Hook. Line. Sinker.  I put my bag on the floor and took off my sweater.

I made it to work on time, in case you were wondering, just barely.  But not before I learned all about this man's life, his career, his poor choices, his failed marriage, his new interest in a woman who works at the red cross that he deemed "too wonderful for him" to be with.  Not before he told me all about how he went to church with her once and it made him feel so human he could hardly stand it and how she touched his shoulder with her hair accidently when they were holding the hymnal.  I told him before I left that I hoped it all worked for him, and he called after me that it probably won't.  But, then he smiled a little for the first time in the half hour we sat chatting together and I couldn't help but feel like this meeting was planned just so I could offer a bit of encouragement to a man in a dark place.

Who are you supposed to meet today?

Baby, Baby

I have not left my couch since Thursday evening.  You could make a mold of my butt from the deep indentation.  You'd also probably be able to tell what I've eaten over the last few days by the conspicuous cracker crumbs, tea stains, melted chocolate pieces and flecks of spinach littering the throw pillow.  This is so very unlike me and normally, this confession would make my cheeks burn with embarrassment over the state of my crumbling household.  However, when I was warned that pregnancy changes a person I didn't quite grasp the enormity of the situation.  Not until now.

I am, officially, 14 weeks pregnant.  The last time we spoke, I believe I was outlining parts of the grieving process that follow a miscarriage. I was amazed by God's goodness and that of his people during that time. Rich and I were able to recover so well from that experience, and then were even more surprised to discover that we were pregnant yet again directly after the loss of our first.   It was truly a  reminder that He brings beauty from ashes, joy from mourning.  However, through all of that, each pregnancy is different and thus began our journey with this little sprinkle... (the nickname given after discovering it was roughly the size of an ice cream jimmy when we realized we were pregnant once again).

Let me begin by saying that yes, we are excited but it took quite some time for the shock to wear off.  And then, the sickness came.  And left for a week.  And then came back worse than before.  Have you ever taught a room full of teenagers while trying to suppress the urge to vomit in the nearest garbage can? Every day?  Or having to deal with the feelings of worthlessness when I can't do all of the things I used to enjoy, like make a simple meal for my husband.  Go see a friend.  Read.  (Fine print makes me nauseous.  Awesome.)  It's been more than just a little adjusting on both of our parts.

I'm hoping during this next phase of pregnancy I'll get to experience the beauty, the joy and the energy that's supposed to decorate the second trimester.  Until then, I'll continue my toast and ramen noodle routine (with the occasional steak, cocktail shrimp, mashed potatoes and sauteed spinach I seem to crave when my face isn't in the toilet) and wait patiently for a better tomorrow.