seven

I remember when I was pregnant in Cabo San Lucas, walking down the street it seemed like every other twenty or thirty-something girl was pregnant too. As if it was contagious. I had a pregnant friend, Diana, and met many other happy pregnant women. I ran into kids on the street that got a kick out of touching my belly, cars would stop to let me waddle past, and just about every familiar face on the small town streets of Cabo seemed to know whether it would be a boy or a girl by the shape of belly.

When I was pregnant, everything was positevely positive. I was full of hope. It must have been the hormones and endorphins that my body was releasing. But what about now? What about when one is going through a time of marital woes? I hate to think it's the same, but that seems to be the case for me lately. Jaime and I have been experiencing some especially rough times since he arrived in Kansas. Maybe it's the sour expression on my face, or the fact that I forgot to do my morning yoga stretches this week, but I seem to be a magnet for stories of separation and divorce.

I started out the week with divorce on my mind as I dined with my parents and a couple they're friends with who both divorced and then married each other. They both had kids from their previous marriages, and their kids have had problems relating to their divorces. Then, on Tuesday I got my hair cut after work. It was only the second time I'd had this stylist and I was in dire need of a haircut. Once I sat down, I realized that the last time I'd cut my hair was the week before Jaime arrived at the end of February. I was excited and nervous about his arrival and wanted to look my best. I remember talking with Andrea, my stylist about his arrival and she shared with me about all the times she remembered getting herself fixed up when her husband, a marine, had returned from duty. Our conversation was upbeat and optimistic.

But not this time. She didn't say anything about her husband and instead talked about selling her house and moving to a loft apartment downtown. A little later an aquaintance of hers sat down next to us to get her hair done. There was no escaping the gossip since I was in the middle of a haricut. The two talked about a party Andrea hadn't gone to. Basically because her husband was there. The truth comes out, they're getting a divorce.

Then at school on Thursday, during my break I greet Ms. Groovy, a sixth grade teacher, in the teacher's workroom. She had a baby in December. I remember seeing her with her tiny baby girl at school right before she came back to work full-time thinking, I could never have done that with Oliver. I am so thankful that I was able to stay home with Oliver full-time for the first fifteen months of his life and then work only very part-time until he was 22 months old. I asked Ms. Groovy how she was and in a time span of less than four minutes before heading back to class, she let me know. She and her husband were getting separated. Her baby was having a hard time sleeping (and I'm thinking, that's normal for little babies). I told her I was really sorry to hear about their separation. She said he wanted to escape it all so he's going to live with his mom. (Wow, I think to me self, knowing how challenging it is raising a little baby and then to have to do it on your own while working full time.) I asked her how long they'd been married and she told me, "Seven years."

Maybe seven isn't such a lucky number.

I don't have much to say about our marriage except that we're working on it. And as for now, I'm heading off to morning yoga. I hope a little yoga will help bring me some more positive vibes.