I find myself getting nervous when I remember that I'm having a little girl. I keep thinking about clothes, raising her 'right', what on earth I'm going to do when the teenage years start to approach... I never thought I'd have a girl these past five years I've been raising Ian, so now I'm kind of dumbstruck.

I remember the turmoil of growing up very well. I know the things I did and I wonder every day how I managed to get this far in life without killing myself (no exaggerations on that, either). I think back to how mean the girls were to each other while growing up, how fast things changed socially, how broken my heart got year after year while dating... And look at what girls are doing to each other now! Ganging up on one and beating the crap out of her, having sex at 12 years old, being violent and nasty... Not to mention the fact that clothes and labels are so important to girl's and where they 'stand' socially!

I am terrified.

How am I going to keep it together in today's world? I know part of growing up means getting your feelings hurt and learning how to resolve conflict, but I can't even deal with it when some child takes the swing away from Ian on the playground! How on earth am I going to deal with all the girl drama? Even my niece, at 6 years old, lives a wild life with the ins and outs of social strife.

I think I am going to definitely need medication for the next 18 years.

Let me start out by saying I'm usually this petty and selfish. Really, I'm not. But, this time around I can't seem to help it and it's hit me pretty hard.

Yesterday after getting the wonderful news that everything is fine with the pregnancy and finding out what we're having, we went to look at a house. It's about a mile or so from where we currently are, in my parent's neighborhood, and they just dropped the price over 50K. I've wanted to live in this neighborhood for over a year now: There are sidewalks, a nice HOA that does 'family' things all year round, they drive slowly... A far cry from my once-nice neighborhood where, just last December, someone a few houses down threatened to kill his mother and sister, then ended up shooting himself in the leg, where people drive over 50mph on my supposedly 25mph street, where my car has gotten broken into twice... I had also received some signs the past two days that, in my faithfulness, I attributed to the Universe showing me I was on the right path, that finally, finally, something was going to work out for us!

Anyway, as soon as we stepped in the door I fell in love. It has a pool, is wide open with a huge kitchen, 2055 square feet, four bedrooms... and so, so inexpensive for what and where it is.

We sat down afterward and went over numbers with my parents. They were offering us a fantastic deal: Mortgage at 5% for 30 years!!! Amazing, amazing, amazing...

But, as I should come to expect by now, the monthly payment was just too much.

I'm am completely disgusted (and devastated) right now. I can't believe that a few hundred dollars a month is going to make this a deal-breaker. I am ANGRY that I am stuck here in this shoebox of a house, in a neighborhood that makes me furious every time a car drives by, in a situation like this. I have been patient for over FOUR YEARS while Sean has been working his ass off at this business, working in jobs I've hated because I've had no choice, fighting because we have no money, feeling like my entire life was falling in around me because I've been stuck with no way out. I thought that finally, finally, we had a chance to get one step ahead of ourselves... I am SICK TO DEATH of having no way to turn! I feel like I have no control over my life anymore; that money is ruling is all and I CAN'T STAND IT!

I give up. I don't care anymore. I refuse to look ahead and see where my life could be in five years because, in all honesty, I really don't care. I am just that sick of it all.

Sean has, of course, turned this into the proverbial "So you think I can't provide for you and I failed," moment for himself, and this is the first time I've ever let him go ahead and think just that. I'm tired of stroking his ego, I'm frustrated that I have to constantly show him the bright side of everything, and I'm DONE pretending that I'm fine. I've done the, "There's great things in store of us down the road, I can feel it!" song and dance for too long now. I don't think I believe it any more anyway.

(Adding: I am giving myself 2 days to wallow in my misery. Then, it's business as usual)

Blah. I am so annoyed. I won't go into details because it's always the same song and dance.

I would like to say, however, that the people that say "Money isn't everything," and "Having money doesn't mean you're happy," are the very people who actually have money.

We had the chance to possibly do something/get something better than where we are but it looks like, once again, we can't because we don't have the initial money. I'm getting used to this ending to all of my stories.

I'm getting tired. I'm getting tired of being patient for money to come in, tired of worrying about  it, tired of worrying about what's going to happen next. I've been positive, helpful, supportive, trusting, faithful, and it's still as hard as it was on day one (almost).

What do I have to do? Where am I going wrong? Why is is so freakin' easy for some people and so hard for others?

I never realized what a lonely disease cancer is. I mean, any terminal illness must give one a sense of being alone, but the more I hear my mother talk about what's going on with her I feel more and more that I can't do any more than be there to listen.

Last night I brought her with me to Michael's so I could pick up some beads for my special orders, and she discussed the medication/chemo schedule with me. Unfortunately, due to her (our) clotting disorder, she's going to have to take some chemo medications that are "unfriendly" to the cardiovascular system. Did I ever mention that she sees a cardiologist for her heart condition? I guess, weighing the two evils, the clotting disorder beat out the heart condition. She'll be going on Tuesday for her first six hour chemo session, and then the day after she goes for a shot that is supposed to raise her white blood cell count. She'll continue that regime for 6-8 weeks, and then the sessions will reduce to two hours.

It's like some sort of hell day camp or something. "Bring a lunch or a snack, you'll have a TV so you can relax, blah, blah blah," What a load of shit.

Couple that with the wig fitting sessions, make up session for when she loses her eyebrows and eyelashes, how to fit the prosthetic breast and what clothes look the best, the support gropus... It just sucks.

She, of course, is looking on the bright side of it all. She even said, "Maybe the reason this happened to me was so that you would be diagnosed and save this pregnancy!" What a silver lining, and for all I know it could be true! But, for now, all I know is that I'm helpless. I can't even hold a discussion with her because I can't fathom how she's feeling. I can't begin to understand how someone deals with the constant thought that their life could be moving toward the "end", that they may have to prepare themselves to say good-bye to everything they've knows, the worry for the people left behind.

So, I took Ian to the doctor today. I'm glad Sean's uncle was in today because he's really good with my sensitive little man.

Ian started with the croup on Tuesday so we began the liquid steroid right away. He was pretty bad at night, but he was able to sleep for the most part. The next day my parents watched him while I worked and he was "OK" as far as coughing went. That night was pretty bad: he got asthma treatments every 4 hours and a DM cough medication that's supposed to help him sleep, and then at 2am I had to change his sheets and blankets because he fell asleep without a pull-up on. Thursday a family friend watched him for half a day so I could work, and by the time I got home he was awful. He couldn't stop coughing, so we spent a lot of time in the shower until Sean got home. As the night wore on the poor kid started gagging because of the coughing, so we pushed Popsicles and these great lollipops that are made for sore throats. The night was horrible! We spent hours awake doing treatments, medication, singing to him... He ended up basically passing out even while coughing and managed to sleep for an hour or two.

So, he's on liquid steroids twice a day, inhaled steroids twice a day, albuteral every four hours, antibiotics three times a day, and night-time cough medication that has a sleep agent in it. My poor little boy is a mess, but he's smiling the whole way.