This is the beauty of annonymity: I am free to sing my heart's song, or cry a river of my soul's darkest, most private, moments. And you don't know me, nor are you my stone-throwing family members. So I'm perfectly fine with you knowing my "deep dark's".

So here goes, I'm spilling out some of my heart because writing is my outlet & I need to coordinate these thoughts in the hopes of understanding them. Please be gentle. This is my first time to do this. Think of sweet Thumper (from Bambi), "If ya can't say nothing nice... don't say nothing at all."

Mr. 6PackAbs & I have been trying to have another baby since January. So, to summarize, we're doing the ditty, alot, without protection, and without any results. This may sound comical to you, but this is the mindset I must keep, in order to not go institutional. If I laugh about it, it will all be okay, right? So I'm beginning to wonder "What's wrong with the plumbing?" We never imagined this would be anything to even bat a lash at. But, lo... here we are... considering fertility testing & treatments so that I may be able to point a finger at him, or to feel the guilt of my inablity to give him another child. And to have the end result be a bigger family that we've always dreamed of. We want the whole "white picket fences, 2.5 kids, and a dog"American suburbia dream. Not the minvan part, though, thankyouverymuch. I'm a SUV drivin', gas-guzzlin' kind of mama.

After we've been trying for awhile, thoughts seem to creep into my mind, in the wee dark hours of the morning. Is it me? Was it my C-section? Is it him? What aren't we doing right? What are we doing wrong? Should we do the fertility treatments? Could I go through that? Would the pain be worth the gain? What if they don't work? Would we adopt? Could he adopt? Is God mad at me? Am I not pleasing Him? Is He testing me? Is this punishment? Have I not been listening to Him? Why can't His plan match mine? And these thoughts repeat themself hourly, and invade my happiness with Chloe and Mr. 6PackAbs.

Then, sweet angel baby, Chlo', has one of her "moments"... that last all day. And these moments suck dry my will to survive. Then I begin to wonder...Could I handle another? Is this why God won't give me another? Does she need more of me? Is there more of me to give? Is this His way of showing me I am not strong enough? Can't He make me strong enough? Where is He? Is He hearing me? Must I fall to my knees, pleading for help? Is my body getting to old (gasp) to handle another pregnancy & child?

Then there's the underlying pressure from Mr. 6PackAbs, "I really want to have a son. All those things you always dreamed of doing with your daughter? I dream of doing things with my son... throwing a ball, teaching him woodshop & mechanics... just doing father/ son things with my son." And this rips me to shreds. On two levels.

Level one: Let's face it, ladies. We women? We do the child-raising. Or atleast in this house that's how the cards are played. And I'm prefectly fine with that. I know that's my life's calling. And I want to succeed at it. Maybe its just the boys I meet. But right now? I fear boys. They are perfect & sweet & precious if they are yours. Boys are fearless. I would like to be fearless, but my fears keep me humble. I deeply admire mamas with boys. Those are some strong women!

The second level of frustration is that I feel it has become all too common place for men to push the male ego on each other to produce male offspring. Like they are not manly enough unless they can add another male to the world population. This thought process irritates me beyond comprehension. Its jsut the whole caveman complex of "Me man. Me want son. Ug. Hunt for food. Go to my cave, make me dinner. Drop your drawers." Okay, so that's maybe a mild exageration. Mr. 6PackAbs is not like that, but you get my point, no?

So there. You have it. I whispered all of this & I am still left wondering. About everything.