My Six Year Old

I don't deal well with disappointment. Ever since I was little. I remember one time, when I was in kindergarten, I think, I woke up to find it raining on the day of a class field trip. Maybe it was the zoo. I can't remember that part. All I knew was that the trip would be canceled and I started crying. I'm still like that on the inside.

I had my heart set on going to the drive-in tonight, but Jason called from the psych hospital and was too tired. I came unglued! I felt like a six-year old inside. Thankfully, I prayed about it before Jason came home so I managed to not "punish" him, as I am apt to do. It wasn't his fault. I really didn't care about missing the movie, to be honest. It is just a natural reaction of mine to disappointment. Anger. "Not fair!" my six year old self cries.

That's part of the reason that this infertility thing has been so hard. Whenever I take a look at that negative pregnancy test (as I gazed upon just this morning), my little six year old gets riled up. But I think I am getting better at it. Today, I got more upset about not getting to eat popcorn in my car than not being pregnant. Maybe it was displaced disappointment. Who knows.