I was going to write about my happiest New Years Eve, but instead this particular one keeps pressing in on me. Maybe writing it down will shoo it away.
I was heavily pregnant with my fourth child. The others were 7, 6, and 3. I was so tired. But it was New Years Eve. The two oldest boys were desperate to try and make it until midnight. WTG talked all day about how New Years Eve was for amateurs and he knew it was a stupid night to go out...not that it had stopped him any other year. My due date was officially January 2. I assure you, I was quite miserable. I begged him to stay home and help the boys have a nice time. I really was just longing to lie down. He left, under the pretext of just stopping by a friend's house for a few minutes...he'd be right back. I tried calling him later, where he said he'd be. No cell phones then. I planned to lie and say I felt I was going into labor if I could get ahold of him. But I didn't have to lie, as he remained unreachable.
I sat listlessly on the couch watching the boys drop off one by one, defeated by their normal sleep schedules in spite of their excitement. I slept too, off and on, uncomfortable and angry and feeling helpless. WTG wandered in late the following afternoon. And so began another new year.
There is a happy p.s. to this bummer post. My daughter arrived on January 4th, healthy and lovely. It was so easy to put everything else out of my mind when I looked at my beautiful children.
And another upside...I will probably be sitting here in my apartment alone on this particular New Years Eve. I have made no plans. But it still has that NYE beat! Woot.