Skipping Work
January 8, 1993
Yes, yes it's true. I told them I had an appointment at OB-GYN in Frankfurt at 1300 and came home. I got Meme's and Nana's "Christmas" presents ready to mail and I'm sitting here smoking a cigarette enjoying the noise the wind makes outside. Will
is at a parade in Dexheim.
I fixed myself a Jim Beam and Coke, but I doubt I'll drink it. Our pictures from France turned out shitty, but that's okay - I remember the important things.
- Sacre Coeur (I cried in this church and thanked God for how lucky I am to have Will and the things I own. It was the most beautiful, emotionally powerful place I've ever been.)
- Painter's Square, where I got my portrait done and Will bought an artwork that he was thoroughly drawn to. (I was impressed.)
- The Moulin Rouge with the huge lighted windmill where Toulouse Lautrec hung out. There were originals by him all over the place.
Right now my period is four days late, but I know it will come. Oh well. I'll probably never get pregnant. I have a lot to do but just want to go to sleep. I think I will.
*Footnotes
Little did I know when writing the above journal entry, but I am indeed pregnant at this time. My son was born almost 8 months to the day later. We had been trying to get pregnant for over six months - almost since the time we were married. He said he wanted a baby because he wanted to be a dad. I wanted a baby because I thought a baby would bring us together.
My reason for wanting a baby was faulty. If I had been wiser, I would have dealt with the real problems in our relationship instead of binding a child to them.
You see, after we were married, his attitude about women in the military seemed to magically change. Before marriage, he respected me for working hard and being principled. After marriage, military life became inappropriate for women. Military women were "whores" or "trying to do a Man's job."
His opinion of which category I fell into was determined by whether he saw another male soldier look at me that day, what his buddies told him, or how much Jack Daniels he had drunk.
He has explained that his job was to protect me, but the fact that the military was danger prone prevented him from doing that job.
Instead of being patient as I fulfilled my obligation, he decided to make my life hell. He knew that getting pregnant would allow me to end my commitment, so pregnancy was his solution. Of course, this is "only my opinion" and he disagrees vehemently with my perspective. We don't discuss it anymore.
I must have been very tired when I wrote this entry because Sacre Coeur and Painter's Square live in my memory as being a place of rejuvenation for me. I could have written volumes about my feelings when I was there. I cried in the church; I felt at home at Painter's Square. I never would have left if I didn't have to return to Army life.
You can have the rest of Paris - Painter's Square at the base of Sacr� Coeur is my home!
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