Sex. I like sex with my husband. A lot. Even after six years together (I went to Christian school, so I'm not admitting to sex before marriage), this guy is the one I want.
I smile when our friends tell jokes about wives that are tired or uninterested in sex, but I don't really understand it. Sure, I have my moments (rare) when I don't want to engage in sexual anything, but again, they're rare. I usually want to have sex with the adorable C. When we come home from work, when we go to bed, and even random sunny afternoons. I'm game for sex over 90% of the (appropriate) time. This hasn't changed much since I met him and fell in love.
So what is it? Am I just a sexual person? Are C and I super compatible sexually? Is C really amazing in bed? Why, even with age and stress and LIFE has my libido not slowed or waned?
I have a few theories, since you're still reading about my sex life. Pervert. Voyeur.
I've only ever had sex with C. I'm that girl. Which, for me, is a huge benefit. C is the best I've ever had - he has all of the skills and techniques that I know and enjoy. We know what makes the other happy, what the other is willing to do, and essentially how to make sex work for us. I'm not going to speak for C, but sex with him makes me happy.
Which is the simple explanation for the complex physical, mental, and emotional things that happen during/after sex. What I write next may seem simple and naive, but I mean what I write. I love my husband and I love having sex with him. Sex makes me feel beautiful, desired, loved, cherished, cared for, CALM, relaxed, powerful, strong, talented, and so much else. Sex boosts my immune system and my self esteem. Sex makes me smile and realize some things are way more important and some things are way less important. Sex is messy and funny and sad and joyous and spiritual and angry and lovely.
I was raised in a religious family, in church, and attended private Christian school for high school. Which is to say, I was not overly educated about sex. At all. As in, the homeschool mom who somehow wound up teaching sophomores biology could not explain, when asked directly, what an orgasm was. Pathetic. Side-note: I refuse to return to that school unless allowed to teach a comprehensive health/sex education class. And so, in dating, I was (and probably still am) clueless. No ideas about sex, except that if you have it before you are married, you are a sinning heathen destined for the bowels of hell.
Why couldn't anyone tell me about sex? That I have a vagina and a cervix and a clitoris, among other cool parts? Any information about pap smears? UTIs? Yeast infections? The risks associated with birth control? That sex is a tiny word that encompasses so many things? No one can tell me that sex is great, or that it isn't something to be ashamed of? How come no one talks about sex?!
So, I talk about sex and now I've written about sex. I've counseled numerous former classmates on the importance of pap smears and the risk associated with different birth control. Also infertility (unfortunately), but that is another issue; however, if you can't talk about sex when it is great and "working," how in the world can you discuss when it's NOT working? I've been the one friends talk to about sex (gasp, premarital and uninvolved). I educated an ex-boyfriend all about the mechanics of sex (long, strange, slightly sad story). But still, why don't people TALK about it?
Here I am though. Unashamed and talking about sex. Not even in general, because I'm talking about my sex. Not in an explicit fashion. It's just sex, you hear?
There is a chance that sex is different for me than it is for you. A small difference, but unmistakeable. Sex is not the method through which I can procreate. There is not any type of birth control in my home. Do you see where this is going? To all of the emotions that get involved with sex, I'll add my own: we are mostly certain that our children will not be conceived through sex. And yes, that makes me sad. I'd rather be like you in that respect. Which means that I have to realize that for C and I, the sex really is just for us. No pregnancies and no babies. Just because we want to, need to, and love each other. It's taken awhile and a few tears, but I'm okay with that. Which is yet another reason to keep this dialogue open: sex changes. Not intended to be profound, but very true.
You don't have to talk to me about sex, but you can. You need to talk about sex with the person(s) you're having it with. And you need people out there that you can ask questions (no, your doctor does not count because doctors do not know all of the answers). So, let's talk about sex, shall we?
*Posted from my mobile phone
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Time to Catch Up
A few things.
• I love knowing that you are pregnant. It will always worry me. This is not to anyone specifically and I assume that pregnancy becomes a somewhat delicate idea to anyone who has experienced any type of loss. From the couple who just texted a picture of a positive pregnancy test to the friend who called to ask me how accurate pregnancy tests are. I'm excited for you. But worry lives in me.
•The course that I'm teaching right now has made me so anxious that I find myself unable to sleep well. Or eat. My portion size is down to almost one meal per day. Which means that the anxiety diet works for me! I didn't know that adults in college programs still want something for nothing. Or that they can be such manipulative bullies to their instructors. It's a terribly realistic version of mean girls and it should be over after Thursday.
•We're planning to do IVF this year. I might blog about it and I might not. I would like all of the support and encouragement possible, but nothing overly hopeful - does that make sense?
•Hypothetically, if you are distantly related to us, please don't begin making comments about how we should have adopted your daughter's crack addicted baby six years ago. That is not even a road I would allow my thoughts to travel for so many reasons.
•I will say it. I want to move home. Home is the town I was born in and until four years ago, had lived my life. Aspects of this place annoy me and make me smile at the same time, but it is where my heart is at.
•I might start school again in the fall to work on my second master's degree. Because I want to be a librarianshipenhoodsmith, or a librarian, for short.
I think that's all for now.
*Posted from my mobile phone
• I love knowing that you are pregnant. It will always worry me. This is not to anyone specifically and I assume that pregnancy becomes a somewhat delicate idea to anyone who has experienced any type of loss. From the couple who just texted a picture of a positive pregnancy test to the friend who called to ask me how accurate pregnancy tests are. I'm excited for you. But worry lives in me.
•The course that I'm teaching right now has made me so anxious that I find myself unable to sleep well. Or eat. My portion size is down to almost one meal per day. Which means that the anxiety diet works for me! I didn't know that adults in college programs still want something for nothing. Or that they can be such manipulative bullies to their instructors. It's a terribly realistic version of mean girls and it should be over after Thursday.
•We're planning to do IVF this year. I might blog about it and I might not. I would like all of the support and encouragement possible, but nothing overly hopeful - does that make sense?
•Hypothetically, if you are distantly related to us, please don't begin making comments about how we should have adopted your daughter's crack addicted baby six years ago. That is not even a road I would allow my thoughts to travel for so many reasons.
•I will say it. I want to move home. Home is the town I was born in and until four years ago, had lived my life. Aspects of this place annoy me and make me smile at the same time, but it is where my heart is at.
•I might start school again in the fall to work on my second master's degree. Because I want to be a librarianshipenhoodsmith, or a librarian, for short.
I think that's all for now.
*Posted from my mobile phone
Sunday, February 20, 2011
The Explosively Happy Thing
You really deserve it. A happy thing, or you know, me being happy. And I am and it is not at all about me.
A friend just called me. A sweet, heart-on-her-sleeve friend that I've know for over ten years. I'm especially useful to her now because she is going through IF and our story is pretty much a wide open book. I know stuff. I've lived this IF life for over four years. I'm an armchair RE. Anyway, she is one of the private ones, so I am a fabulous resource.
As in, she just called to ask how accurate pregnancy tests are. Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap - very accurate, with some considerations. How many days since the HCG shot and the IUI? Fifteen? And first morning urine? Nope? And the lines? Super dark? Mary mother of all that is Mercy me . . . You are so totally pregnant!
And I'll get a call back when she does a blood test tomorrow and she was able to tell her husband that she thought she might be, and her mom that she was pretty sure, and she is so overwhelmed, but joyful. I bet she looks radiant right now.
What does this mean for me? Not a damn thing - this post isn't about me. It is about the pure happiness that can break through despair and doubt. It is about the wonder of technology, and in this case, my friend standing up to doctors and getting them to take her seriously. It is about the much hoped for, prayed for, already loved life growing within her. That's what this one is about, people.
Maybe it proves that I've got some residual of hope left for myself, maybe it just demonstrates that I'm not a cold hearted b**** that hates the pregnant women, or whatever. Do you have any idea how happy I am for this girl? I'm excited that I was able to have that reassuring conversation with her and that I was able to experience part of her joy.
It's all I've got for today. What an expression of love. Joy. Faith. Overwhelming indeed.
A friend just called me. A sweet, heart-on-her-sleeve friend that I've know for over ten years. I'm especially useful to her now because she is going through IF and our story is pretty much a wide open book. I know stuff. I've lived this IF life for over four years. I'm an armchair RE. Anyway, she is one of the private ones, so I am a fabulous resource.
As in, she just called to ask how accurate pregnancy tests are. Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap - very accurate, with some considerations. How many days since the HCG shot and the IUI? Fifteen? And first morning urine? Nope? And the lines? Super dark? Mary mother of all that is Mercy me . . . You are so totally pregnant!
And I'll get a call back when she does a blood test tomorrow and she was able to tell her husband that she thought she might be, and her mom that she was pretty sure, and she is so overwhelmed, but joyful. I bet she looks radiant right now.
What does this mean for me? Not a damn thing - this post isn't about me. It is about the pure happiness that can break through despair and doubt. It is about the wonder of technology, and in this case, my friend standing up to doctors and getting them to take her seriously. It is about the much hoped for, prayed for, already loved life growing within her. That's what this one is about, people.
Maybe it proves that I've got some residual of hope left for myself, maybe it just demonstrates that I'm not a cold hearted b**** that hates the pregnant women, or whatever. Do you have any idea how happy I am for this girl? I'm excited that I was able to have that reassuring conversation with her and that I was able to experience part of her joy.
It's all I've got for today. What an expression of love. Joy. Faith. Overwhelming indeed.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Without A, B Would Not Exist (Welcome 2011)
Outside of being just fine happy okay, the dates and moments that bring me to a bleak place vary. I didn't ever figure our child's due date (which has proven wise and sanity-saving) - I only know that had things gone perfectly, he would have arrived late July or early August. Therefore, that time frame does not mean much to me. Even though I told my parents about the pregnancy around the end of January, that time period doesn't mean much to me either. I know the date forwards and backwards that I lost our child in a gush of blood, but February 11th, doesn't even usually cause much anguish.
What hurts then?
Today. January 1st. For many reasons. Mostly because of the memory of C's excitement upon finding out we were going to be parents. It was today. I remember that. I asked him to keep it quiet and he fought with me. He had to tell the friends that came over on the first for lunch. We were at their house last night for New Year's Eve, like we have been every year since. I was able to hold their almost 6mo old son. This was the day we began telling three years ago. Obviously not knowing the heart wrenching future, but full of hope and happiness. I'm not sure we get to experience that again.
Christmas. Our families are great - they get this struggle more or less. It's just everyone else and their stupid small talk and comments. I feel this need/desire to provide my parents/his parents with SOMEONE else to focus on. Someone small who gurgles and sleeps a lot to buy lots of clothes/toys/whatever for. The focus on us, the twenty/thirty-somethings, for this holiday is bordering on crazy.
Our Anniversary. The beginning of the end for my beloved grandma. She fell Christmas Eve, went into the hospital, and never came out. The traditional wedding she would have been so proud of us for having was missed; Grandpa came alone. Three weeks later, I was the last one to say goodbye and while I was there, she passed. I am not certain you are ever old enough to make a call to your parents to tell them that their mom is gone. While I know that my lovely grandma is perfectly whole and radiant where she is, I miss her and I know she would have revelled in the great grandchild she could have had through me.
Our Anniversary also reminds me of the guilt I feel in my capacity of Wife. Even if I was competent at Wife, I would still fail at Wife because I can't transcend to Mother. Which is only true for us because that is where we want to be (as in, this is not a social critique on you or your choices or roles). Yes, I do feel shitty because I can't provide my husband with the children he (we) desire. Yuck.
Valentine's Day is more of the same. I woke up four years ago on Valentine's Day and thought inside my head (and without the necessary filter and thanks to pain meds, then turned to C and said out loud) *Happy Valentine's Day, Honey. I'm sorry that I'm a terrible wife and lost our baby. I still love you.* And that should sum up how terrible I usually feel on that day. What a fabulous present to the one you love, huh?
Since all of these dates are clumped within a nine week period, it does feel like an onslaught in what was my (our) favorite season of winter. Interestingly, nine weeks was pegged as the length of fetal development when I had the D&C. The good part, is that it comes and goes relatively quickly. By late February, everything is relatively normal.
I definitely did not come home from the parties last night and argue with C. We didn't drive to the parties and back home in silence. I certainly didn't want to leave any of these parties early. While there was a valid reason for the argument, even I knew something else was going on in my head. So when the racking sobs came on with the memories and crazy irrational thoughts, I got it. We're in some weird limbo. Four years ago we were ecstatic about the possibilities in front of us. We've spent four years trying to get that back. And we're adding the fifth year to the tally.
Please, 2011, I can't ask for what I really want and you can't make promises, so I'll ask for something in the middle: answers. Perhaps we just need answers for closure. Or, maybe with enough growth this year I can stop being such a basket case. Either way: it's win-win for me.
What hurts then?
Today. January 1st. For many reasons. Mostly because of the memory of C's excitement upon finding out we were going to be parents. It was today. I remember that. I asked him to keep it quiet and he fought with me. He had to tell the friends that came over on the first for lunch. We were at their house last night for New Year's Eve, like we have been every year since. I was able to hold their almost 6mo old son. This was the day we began telling three years ago. Obviously not knowing the heart wrenching future, but full of hope and happiness. I'm not sure we get to experience that again.
Christmas. Our families are great - they get this struggle more or less. It's just everyone else and their stupid small talk and comments. I feel this need/desire to provide my parents/his parents with SOMEONE else to focus on. Someone small who gurgles and sleeps a lot to buy lots of clothes/toys/whatever for. The focus on us, the twenty/thirty-somethings, for this holiday is bordering on crazy.
Our Anniversary. The beginning of the end for my beloved grandma. She fell Christmas Eve, went into the hospital, and never came out. The traditional wedding she would have been so proud of us for having was missed; Grandpa came alone. Three weeks later, I was the last one to say goodbye and while I was there, she passed. I am not certain you are ever old enough to make a call to your parents to tell them that their mom is gone. While I know that my lovely grandma is perfectly whole and radiant where she is, I miss her and I know she would have revelled in the great grandchild she could have had through me.
Our Anniversary also reminds me of the guilt I feel in my capacity of Wife. Even if I was competent at Wife, I would still fail at Wife because I can't transcend to Mother. Which is only true for us because that is where we want to be (as in, this is not a social critique on you or your choices or roles). Yes, I do feel shitty because I can't provide my husband with the children he (we) desire. Yuck.
Valentine's Day is more of the same. I woke up four years ago on Valentine's Day and thought inside my head (and without the necessary filter and thanks to pain meds, then turned to C and said out loud) *Happy Valentine's Day, Honey. I'm sorry that I'm a terrible wife and lost our baby. I still love you.* And that should sum up how terrible I usually feel on that day. What a fabulous present to the one you love, huh?
Since all of these dates are clumped within a nine week period, it does feel like an onslaught in what was my (our) favorite season of winter. Interestingly, nine weeks was pegged as the length of fetal development when I had the D&C. The good part, is that it comes and goes relatively quickly. By late February, everything is relatively normal.
I definitely did not come home from the parties last night and argue with C. We didn't drive to the parties and back home in silence. I certainly didn't want to leave any of these parties early. While there was a valid reason for the argument, even I knew something else was going on in my head. So when the racking sobs came on with the memories and crazy irrational thoughts, I got it. We're in some weird limbo. Four years ago we were ecstatic about the possibilities in front of us. We've spent four years trying to get that back. And we're adding the fifth year to the tally.
Please, 2011, I can't ask for what I really want and you can't make promises, so I'll ask for something in the middle: answers. Perhaps we just need answers for closure. Or, maybe with enough growth this year I can stop being such a basket case. Either way: it's win-win for me.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Tell You What
I need support and encouragement and someone to tell me not to be so anxious/stressed/nervous/worried over every little thing.
I need to be calm.
Soothing.
Gentle.
Relaxed.
Zen.
Because there are big things and then there are big things. My things fall short of big things. But they still intimidate me and creep into my emptying head right before I fall to sleep. So, I guess they are my big things.
Some of them I don't want to talk about. Afraid of the reality, fear of failure, knowing what this means. Some are exciting possibilities, but those two genericy words allow me some distance. If I give myself any more distance from these things, I'll be walking backwards so fast as to fall off the opposite side of the cliff, unknowingly. Never to have seen the one thing I wasn't afraid of coming; all the worrying in vain.
Wow, I do sound like a high anxiety personality. I can't expect you to tell me that I'm doing the right thing. You don't know either. I guess I just careen forward until I reach maximum velocity and burn out. Or somehow calm down and find the reassurance I'm seeking.
It's a rough journey.
- Posted from my mobile phone
I need to be calm.
Soothing.
Gentle.
Relaxed.
Zen.
Because there are big things and then there are big things. My things fall short of big things. But they still intimidate me and creep into my emptying head right before I fall to sleep. So, I guess they are my big things.
Some of them I don't want to talk about. Afraid of the reality, fear of failure, knowing what this means. Some are exciting possibilities, but those two genericy words allow me some distance. If I give myself any more distance from these things, I'll be walking backwards so fast as to fall off the opposite side of the cliff, unknowingly. Never to have seen the one thing I wasn't afraid of coming; all the worrying in vain.
Wow, I do sound like a high anxiety personality. I can't expect you to tell me that I'm doing the right thing. You don't know either. I guess I just careen forward until I reach maximum velocity and burn out. Or somehow calm down and find the reassurance I'm seeking.
It's a rough journey.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Thursday, December 9, 2010
I See the Humor Here
"A,
Your order for 1 Test Tube Baby on 12/06/2010 has been recently shipped via SMARTPOST."
This showed up in my inbox this morning. Whew, I'm glad this baby making thing is so easy!
- Posted from my mobile phone
Your order for 1 Test Tube Baby on 12/06/2010 has been recently shipped via SMARTPOST."
This showed up in my inbox this morning. Whew, I'm glad this baby making thing is so easy!
- Posted from my mobile phone
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Beginning to Get Real
I'm always real, actually. But I just took an action that made my/our future plans real. Thousands of dollars will now not be coming home with me next year. They will instead sit in an account, pre-taxed, and ready to be spent on medical things. I can't get that money back, which means I have to spend it on something. And prescription designer sunglasses only cost so much.
Which means that we'll have to do something much bigger and spendy to blow through this medical cash. Oh dear. We'll actually have to do it.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Which means that we'll have to do something much bigger and spendy to blow through this medical cash. Oh dear. We'll actually have to do it.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Thursday, November 18, 2010
I Had a Dream
Not a MLK Jr. reference. I had another type of dream. It was sort of graphic and I'm not going to edit here, so you have been warned.
I was pregnant, but not really, because I had just birthed the baby. Like just pushed her out of my vagina. And I was so happy. Like crying happy. The nurse in the room wanted me to see (?) how well I'd done, so she had me hold a mirror up to the sacred vagina of the moments-ago birth to look around and see that there was no tearing or any other injury. For some reason she wanted me to know that this time, my body had done exactly what it was supposed to - and perfectly at that (can you determine the psychological ramifications for me in her determination?). Then she ran this wand over my midsection that showed the blood-flow so that the nurse could determine everything internally was as it should be.
Fast forward to them handing me my daughter and trying to get her to nurse (me fumbling as I try and hold her correctly). FF again, and I am at home putting her little socks on and fretting about her clothing (does she need an under-onesie? Will this outfit keep her warm enough?). And that was about it. The very warm and calm nurse was actually J, a real nurse (not L&D nurse though) that I worked with at the doctors' office earlier this year.
I can see little reasons why this dream came to me at this time: we've had three baby boys born in the last few weeks and I've held or seen fantastic pictures of all of them. Also saw an adorable 4mo baby boy on Sun. Went to visit the office where nurseJ works on Mon briefly and she is 38 weeks with her second daughter. And I know that's a lot with pregnancies and babies. But I like to think dreams have a purpose, whether to disturb, scare, amuse, provide hope, joy, or happiness - a purpose. Not sure what this one was about. There was definitely feelings of rightness, contentment, and honestly, radiant joy. Through the entire dream, I felt so happy that I feared I might explode and spill gooey, non-washable happiness onto everything.
I'm not sure what the purpose of this dream was. It didn't upset me or cause me grief and pain. I don't see it as a message that we will definitely be parents, have a baby girl, or that I will someday be pregnant and able to deliver "perfectly." It is what it is and I'm pretty sure that is okay with me.
Which might just mean that for right now I (we) am (are) okay (reading in-between the lines this means that we have a plan which I may one day let all of you in on, because we all know how unstable and, uh, downright mean and nasty I get without a plan. You don't think I get mean? Aww, that's sweet - have a little conversation with C, okay?).
- Posted from my mobile phone
I was pregnant, but not really, because I had just birthed the baby. Like just pushed her out of my vagina. And I was so happy. Like crying happy. The nurse in the room wanted me to see (?) how well I'd done, so she had me hold a mirror up to the sacred vagina of the moments-ago birth to look around and see that there was no tearing or any other injury. For some reason she wanted me to know that this time, my body had done exactly what it was supposed to - and perfectly at that (can you determine the psychological ramifications for me in her determination?). Then she ran this wand over my midsection that showed the blood-flow so that the nurse could determine everything internally was as it should be.
Fast forward to them handing me my daughter and trying to get her to nurse (me fumbling as I try and hold her correctly). FF again, and I am at home putting her little socks on and fretting about her clothing (does she need an under-onesie? Will this outfit keep her warm enough?). And that was about it. The very warm and calm nurse was actually J, a real nurse (not L&D nurse though) that I worked with at the doctors' office earlier this year.
I can see little reasons why this dream came to me at this time: we've had three baby boys born in the last few weeks and I've held or seen fantastic pictures of all of them. Also saw an adorable 4mo baby boy on Sun. Went to visit the office where nurseJ works on Mon briefly and she is 38 weeks with her second daughter. And I know that's a lot with pregnancies and babies. But I like to think dreams have a purpose, whether to disturb, scare, amuse, provide hope, joy, or happiness - a purpose. Not sure what this one was about. There was definitely feelings of rightness, contentment, and honestly, radiant joy. Through the entire dream, I felt so happy that I feared I might explode and spill gooey, non-washable happiness onto everything.
I'm not sure what the purpose of this dream was. It didn't upset me or cause me grief and pain. I don't see it as a message that we will definitely be parents, have a baby girl, or that I will someday be pregnant and able to deliver "perfectly." It is what it is and I'm pretty sure that is okay with me.
Which might just mean that for right now I (we) am (are) okay (reading in-between the lines this means that we have a plan which I may one day let all of you in on, because we all know how unstable and, uh, downright mean and nasty I get without a plan. You don't think I get mean? Aww, that's sweet - have a little conversation with C, okay?).
- Posted from my mobile phone
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
How do You get from Terminator to Children?
I was commenting on the multiple "lives" of a certain CA governor. He's been that guy from Austria, a champion body builder, the Terminator, and a US governor. It's cool how often we are able to reinvent ourselves.
Dad of a 16 year old patient: Wouldn't you like that?
Me: I'd be happy with one great life.
Dad: You just need to have some kids and then you'll have a fulfilling life.
Me: uh . . .
Just saying that I can't avoid this if I tried. You don't even want to hear about the email drama with the pregnant coworker PT.
No worries though. I'll find a way.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Dad of a 16 year old patient: Wouldn't you like that?
Me: I'd be happy with one great life.
Dad: You just need to have some kids and then you'll have a fulfilling life.
Me: uh . . .
Just saying that I can't avoid this if I tried. You don't even want to hear about the email drama with the pregnant coworker PT.
No worries though. I'll find a way.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Saturday, September 25, 2010
The Only Place
I wonder how long I can distract myself before I realize that my family of five consists of one husband and three dogs, no children. How far do I throw myself into either job that I'm not sure I enjoy? How crafty do I get?
No, I haven't brought up the conversation that devastated me again to C. We don't really function like that. I've just been walking around sort of like a zombie. I've got this ache where there is a hole in my heart. I've been a little extra sensitive, what with facing the reality that my future may not include our children. My body's inability to work correctly is disappointing, sure, but that adoption can't be a logical next choice is, well, devastating. I decided two things for sure somewhere in the midst of this journey: a) a family is not a family without C and I will not choose a family over the husband that I love, and b) my ultimate desire is to mother (parent) a child, not necessarily to become pregnant and bring forth a child. Those were easy to stand by when I thought we had options, but we were not on the same page, so those guiding decisions have become somewhat bitter.
During aforementioned conversation, I asked some terrible questions that I needed to hear the answer to. And through tears, I did get the answers the way I thought from him. At least I wasn't on the wrong page about everything.
The pregnancy announcements and baby showers have gotten more difficult again. At this point in the game, I'm so close to just throwing it all out there. Politely, but still - I am declining your baby shower invitation because I am coming to terms with my likely childless life, please look for your gift in the mail. Although, this is more for the distant acquaintance and not the closer friends (you should know who you are). I just don't have it in me right now to celebrate a cousin's accidental pregnancy in a unstable life. Oh wait, either of them.
The terrible conversation also involved C telling me that he hates having to "hide" when asked when we are planning to have children. I told him that he didn't, but I still make vague comments because people are NOSEY, PUSHY, RUDE, and often INSENSITIVE in their responses to me. I just chose to word my response so that I don't give them the opportunity to be rude - it seems like the polite thing to do. I think that the contents of my uterus, or lack thereof, and the dysfunction of my reproductive system are NONE OF THEIR BUSINESS. I've actually responded every which way to this question and others like it. Bottom line: I think it is a rude question and any response of mine has the possibility of being equally rude. When the ball is back in your court, you will offer unsolicited advice or an empty platitude - neither helps me. So, shut up. I've told C he can say whatever he pleases, but the likelihood is that my responses will be getting increasingly uncouth. There is also the chance that I might ask you about your favorite sexual potion or latest bowel movement, okay?
I can pinpoint my emotion towards all of this right now: fear. I am so so scared for me. Not because I may not get this thing that I want so badly, but because I foresee a slight disintegration of self that I can't control or stop. I have this innate, evolutionary desire to mother - none of which I realized until C entered my life stage left. And I had this idea of what our life would look like. This idea of who I would be. I know nothing goes as planned, but often it is the basic biological operations that we take for granted, until. Until we are faced with the glimmer of all that is not as it should be. I'm scared. I'm scared this empty feeling will last forever. I'm scared that C really won't stick it out. I'm scared that all of this will drive me somewhere dark with lots of screaming and sadness. I'm scared that I can't transition and remain whole. I'm scared that in order to be childless that I will have to leave a part of me behind. I'm terrified.
And the best place for my fear is buried deep behind a content demeanor. I have so much to be grateful for and crying a river over things I can't change isn't going to help a thing. I know this. Besides, no one wants the friend they have to be so careful around. Happy, encouraging friends are way more acceptable.
No, I haven't brought up the conversation that devastated me again to C. We don't really function like that. I've just been walking around sort of like a zombie. I've got this ache where there is a hole in my heart. I've been a little extra sensitive, what with facing the reality that my future may not include our children. My body's inability to work correctly is disappointing, sure, but that adoption can't be a logical next choice is, well, devastating. I decided two things for sure somewhere in the midst of this journey: a) a family is not a family without C and I will not choose a family over the husband that I love, and b) my ultimate desire is to mother (parent) a child, not necessarily to become pregnant and bring forth a child. Those were easy to stand by when I thought we had options, but we were not on the same page, so those guiding decisions have become somewhat bitter.
During aforementioned conversation, I asked some terrible questions that I needed to hear the answer to. And through tears, I did get the answers the way I thought from him. At least I wasn't on the wrong page about everything.
The pregnancy announcements and baby showers have gotten more difficult again. At this point in the game, I'm so close to just throwing it all out there. Politely, but still - I am declining your baby shower invitation because I am coming to terms with my likely childless life, please look for your gift in the mail. Although, this is more for the distant acquaintance and not the closer friends (you should know who you are). I just don't have it in me right now to celebrate a cousin's accidental pregnancy in a unstable life. Oh wait, either of them.
The terrible conversation also involved C telling me that he hates having to "hide" when asked when we are planning to have children. I told him that he didn't, but I still make vague comments because people are NOSEY, PUSHY, RUDE, and often INSENSITIVE in their responses to me. I just chose to word my response so that I don't give them the opportunity to be rude - it seems like the polite thing to do. I think that the contents of my uterus, or lack thereof, and the dysfunction of my reproductive system are NONE OF THEIR BUSINESS. I've actually responded every which way to this question and others like it. Bottom line: I think it is a rude question and any response of mine has the possibility of being equally rude. When the ball is back in your court, you will offer unsolicited advice or an empty platitude - neither helps me. So, shut up. I've told C he can say whatever he pleases, but the likelihood is that my responses will be getting increasingly uncouth. There is also the chance that I might ask you about your favorite sexual potion or latest bowel movement, okay?
I can pinpoint my emotion towards all of this right now: fear. I am so so scared for me. Not because I may not get this thing that I want so badly, but because I foresee a slight disintegration of self that I can't control or stop. I have this innate, evolutionary desire to mother - none of which I realized until C entered my life stage left. And I had this idea of what our life would look like. This idea of who I would be. I know nothing goes as planned, but often it is the basic biological operations that we take for granted, until. Until we are faced with the glimmer of all that is not as it should be. I'm scared. I'm scared this empty feeling will last forever. I'm scared that C really won't stick it out. I'm scared that all of this will drive me somewhere dark with lots of screaming and sadness. I'm scared that I can't transition and remain whole. I'm scared that in order to be childless that I will have to leave a part of me behind. I'm terrified.
And the best place for my fear is buried deep behind a content demeanor. I have so much to be grateful for and crying a river over things I can't change isn't going to help a thing. I know this. Besides, no one wants the friend they have to be so careful around. Happy, encouraging friends are way more acceptable.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)