if wishes were horses

i couldn't figure out last night what to get my nephew to go with the toot & puddle books we got him. my sister said he wants clothes for christmas, which is kind of dumb, because if he could actually speak at ten months, i'm sure he would be demanding WEEBLES, dammit, or bite me elmo or whatever the thing is this year, but if he wants clothes, he can go buy his own damn clothes. he's getting his own gift card with a holographic penguin that flaps its arms up and down. he can knock himself out. look, i tried. i looked at all the toddler clothes. they didn't make me sad. but they made me mad. mad, mad, mad. so i grabbed the gift card and ran.

and then there's my dad. what's the perfect gift for the dad who's fun but pretty much a bastard or at least suffering from multiple mental disorders for which he refuses treatment and may or may not die imminently from cancer? this year, everyone else is getting gift cards and a selection of gourmet munchies, but a lowe's card and a jar of greek eggplant spread doesn't really say, "hope your last christmas on earth is special!"

part of the problem is i don't know what message i want to send. there is one part of me that has separated myself so much from him that i don't care much what his christmas is like. and then there's another part of me that says, he's dying, and he's scared, and maybe he did the best he could, or maybe not, but he's human, so throw the man a bone. i'm looking for the position somewhere between zero involvement and total involvement, but i don't know how that's possible. either i'm involved in his last year(s) or i'm not. i don't know how to be a little involved, or to be involved to any degree without getting damaged. i don't have the energy for the balancing act.

and then there's the little - little what? little embryo? not very cuddly. the fertilized egg? a bit cold. i don't know what to call it. i've been sort of talking to myself about the little seedling, but it's not a tree, for pete's sake, plus seedling is too close to seed, which grosses me out as a term for semen. no one should ever, ever again say they "planted their seed." ew. ew. ew. so i'm back to embryo. or maybe zygote, which at least sounds a little zany, right?

so there's the little zygote. i don't really feel anxious per se. what i feel is fear. i am afraid of hoping. i am afraid of having my heart broken. again. which takes me back to the moment when my heart was broken last time. which last night made me sob with all my heart in the car. i still want him back. and something not quite healthy wants this new being to be him. i know it's not rational. but it is what it is.

of course, this little 'gote will have its own personality. when (trying to say "when" and not "if") this baby is born, i will love it for itself. i will want it to be itself and not try to live up to its dead brother's fabled perfection or to fulfill dreams we had for hans. i don't want to impose my expectations for hans on this child. i want to love this one as is.

but couldn't i just have hans back, too?