I much prefer the pregnant sex dreams. Even though they might have been with my neighbor and/or pastor…

“…if he were to belittle and demean the offerings of my heart, however so pitiful and inadequate they are once sprung from my short fingers, I would never be able to forgive him.” You sounded positively Jane Austenish here.

“…marriage wouldn’t be such a significant, and potentially joy-giving institution, if it weren’t also such an unfathomable risk. The more of yourself you commit, the more you stand to lose if you are betrayed; if you commit less, there is less to be betrayed, but also much less to make the marriage worth desiring.”

So many wonderful passages in this post.

Also, my husband and I had an interesting conversation after I read this about the use of blogging in court cases (apparently he had recently read a story on a doctor’s anonymous blog talking about his feelings over being sued that was discovered and cost him the case). We both feel that if it is definitive proof of lying or mental instability it should be used. If it is every day struggle or self evaluation it shouldn’t make a difference (and it is pathetic if it does). And we also had a nice discussion about tort reform, which is unfortunately one of out favorite subjects.

You really are a fantastic writer. I’m pregnant now, too, and while my dreams are more vivid, they are never traumatic. My husband, on the other hand, always has traumatic dreams. Every night he has at least one life-like dream that I’ve left him. Hate him. Cheated on him. It takes him a good 10 minutes to adjust to reality when he wakes. It’s gotta be frustrating when you wake up horrified and exhausted every morning.

Looking forward to meeting you!

Coaching yourself to change your mindset before you go to sleep might help you wake up in a better mood in the morning. Tell yourself that Tom wants a boy, and he won’t divorce you until you have the baby and find out whether it’s a boy or girl, so you can just relax and go back to sleep. Nothing will change until then, and when the pregnancy is over, the bad dreams will be, too.

I have gotten several comments from long-time friends about the “private” things I share on my blog, and how my husband is so long-suffering to “let” me write what I do. And each time someone who I thought knew me well (knew Tom and I well) says this kind of thing, I’m frankly flabbergasted. Perhaps it’s hard for someone who isn’t married to a fellow writer (this is, after all, how Tom and I met, in a writing class) to realize how important it is for me to attempt to express myself and how damaging it would be to Tom’s and my relationship if we were to try to muzzle each other. I would feel absolutely stifled, as if my thoughts were worthless to him, and I could not survive that.

Your point about wanting your kids to be able to read your blog without feeling unwanted is a good one. I feel confident that if/when my kids read mine, they will feel my love.

My fiance’s ex filed a document with the court—all lies—accusing him of being abusive and neglectful. In reality, he is such a kind father–a gentler parent than I am. To combat her horrible allegations and win majority custody, my fiance copied a blog post of hers in which she said that she resented her children and wished she hadn’t had them, and said they were interfering with the life she really wanted (I believe that’s an accurate summary. I’ve actually never read the blog post; maybe I will ask to see it tonight).

Divorce sucks in every way possible–except that I get another chance now with a man who values the same things that I do, as far as I can tell. The worst part of divorce is that it makes enemies of people who used to love each other deeply. Not that I hate my ex, but I know that he could start a battle in court at any time with me and we would be on opposing sides. And it would most likely be about the children that I bore, nursed, raised and desire to be with and love and teach–even when they’re pains in the neck! I know that I do have to be careful about what I write on my blog–especially now. It sucks, but maybe it helps me look for the silver lining in the frustrating mommy times–I try to write on my blog in a way that I wouldn’t also hurt my children to read later. They will know that parenthood is hard, but hopefully they will always know that I love them and want them.

Apparently judges like blogs even better than personal correspondence bec. they are public, published, in the public domain or something. But it does make me wonder if these judges have children of their own, or if they have no idea what parenting is like. We worry that juries are our “peers” but a wealthy bachelor judge might have a hard time being empathetic to a frazzled stay-at-home mom. (speaking of myself, not of anyone else).

I also agree with Brandi’s comment.

Actually as I started reading your post I thought, I wonder if her nightmares are of betrayal this time because Marcy was betrayed AND perhaps Marcy is on her mind since she’s now getting remarried. (she’s on my mind, and I’m deliriously happy for her)

Anyhow, I can’t get over how it’s five in the morning here, I’m sitting at my computer because I have to pump brea.stmilk for the twins and I come across a brand-new post SO WELL WRITTEN from someone else who just woke up. Dang. I aspire to such greatness.

Obviously I don’t know what she wrote, but unless it was detailing how she mentally or physically abused them, or confirmed that she was drug addict or alcoholic, it infuriates me that it could be held against her.

It’s mainly the judge that I’m infuriated with. While I don’t agree with the fiance’s tactic, I can at least understand how a desperate parent might use whatever ammunition they have to keep their children. But for a judge to use it bothers me. What parent, if they were being honest, has never wished even for a moment that they’d never had children, or have resented their children, or have simply come to the end of their rope for that hour?

It scares the bejeebers out of me that a blog post written with complete honesty about a moment in time as a parent could later be used to take your children away.