3 down, 9 to go
Today is the last day of March. The first three months of 2011 are gone.
There was the brief belief I was pregnant. And the discovery that I wasn’t before I had even had a chance to test if I was. I was nauseous and often short of breath and I had three days of hoping a November baby would come true before realising it wouldn’t. “I think I am pregnant,” I told J one day and the next I followed it with “and had an early miscarriage”. Truth be told I have no idea whether I actually was pregnant, and maybe I should just conclude that I wasn’t, but thinking – even if only for three days – that I was pregnant gave me something. Hope, energy, a breathing space. And it made me realise that I want another baby and that I want another baby more than I want another job which is something I want a lot.
I sent out an application for a job. The job description was loose and I struggled with trying to fit “me” into the position they were hiring for. But I must have done something right because they called me in for an interview and so I lied at work and told them I had a doctor’s appointment and off I went to another company to talk about myself and what I could offer. And on my way home on the bike I knew I wouldn’t get the job. Even though I tried my best and offered the best answers I could, it wasn’t good enough, and I felt it wasn’t good enough. But I still had a couple of days hoping they were going to call anyway, but they didn’t and I slowly accepted that I wouldn’t be moving on to a new job. I try not to be too disappointed. It was a shot at something, and even though I would have loved to move on and get another job, the specifics of this job wasn’t – even after the interview – very clear to me. It wasn’t so much that particular job as it was the idea of a new job, another job that appealed to me.
Work has changed during the past three months. Colleagues have gone and new ones have arrived and we spend our days trying to make things work and sometimes we manage and at other times we fail (and even miserably and with loud bangs), and it is tough and we try to keep the bitching to a minimum, but we can’t, and instead we walk around wondering who will be the first one resigning.
(And then there is a brief moment when I catch my close colleague on the phone and she is smiling and all “thank you so much for calling” and I instantly worry that she is the one leaving, leaving me behind, and I also wonder, even if only for a second, whether we were both interviewed for the same job and she was the one they wanted. And in the end it turns out that she and her husband just bid on a house and we cheer and cross our fingers and I am relieved, utterly relieved. I feel like a child, but I must admit I want to leave, not to be left.)
Spring is slowly showing its bed head after its long winter sleep. The weather is mild and even though it is rainy, it isn’t as cold as it used to be and the sun comes out every once in a while and the florist around the corner sells spring flowers and my basil survives in the kitchen window instead of dying as the previous 18 basils (or something like that) I have owned since October have all done because the kitchen was simply too cold for them.
I buy new wellingtons for the girl and I get her short-sleeved onesies and think about buying her a cute striped summer dress that I have seen and which I can guarantee is way too expensive once I find out the price of it, but still.
I have my hair cut really short and J tells me he thinks it is too short and maybe I do to, but on the other hand I may just be confused, because I kind of like it and it feels “summery” and short and it was everything I asked for.
I meet up with a girlfriend and for the first time I tell someone other than J that I want another child. “My stand is let’s see what comes first: new job or another baby,” I tell her. I feel sort of free after having told her. Everything about my last pregnancy was secret, I was so embarrassed I wasn’t pregnant in a second and so unhappy and so unable to share my misery with anybody. I might still be, but having shared it with one other makes me happy. Of course we talk about my job, and her comments – “that would never happen at my work”, “what is she thinking?”, “why on earth are you doing that?” – does nothing to improve my work day, but they make me feel better and assure me that I am not the only one questioning the way things are handled at work and the assignments I am given.
I think of April and of the next 9 months and of how a quarter of the year may have gone, but there is still three quarters of the year to go. I still have every chance of making 2011 the year I dreamed of. I just have to keep on going and be willing to take chances along the way. Giving up is letting the demons win and why give them my life, the life I actually like, but just need to adjust a bit?