An excerpt from my book:
July 18, 2010
We had a whole rotisserie chicken for dinner tonight. I always go through the chicken, after I am finished salvaging as much meat as possible, and collect the wish bone. Tonight the bone was already broken. Shattered pieces where a wish used to be. No hope for a wish to come true.
There was a time in my life when I honestly didn’t have anything to wish for. I was so happy, content, and calm in my life that I couldn’t possibly wish for anything more. It was when I was pregnant with Jackson. I wasn’t working a regular job and I had all the time in the world to daydream about the little life growing in my belly, work on the house, decorate his nursery, read, watch tv, sleep. I had so much I was looking forward to.
How did I go from sitting on one side of a wish bone, holding on, wishing for the other person’s wish to come true, because I couldn’t be happier, to sitting on the other side of the wish bone, with so many wishes and hopes for my future that I can’t possibly pick just one?
Was it the hormones? Was it because I wasn’t working? Was it my motherly instinct to stay as happy and calm as possible to give my unborn child the very best? Was it the anticipation?
Am I that bored with my life now that I can’t find true happiness in what I already have, even though my circumstances haven’t changed much since my pregnancy? Would getting pregnant again make me that happy again? What if I can’t get pregnant again?
Where can I find contentment?