Let me start out by first saying that this post is all about my feelings. They may or may not be rational and they may or may not be represented fairly or in the best way. Let me remind everyone that this is my blog and my space and therefore, if you don’t like what I have to say, I don’t care. So wrap that up in a napkin and put it in your purse like a stolen cookie from Golden Corral!
I will first say that 71% of my favorite people have been pregnant. One of my very favorite people was pregnant with ME. How can something that produced someone as splendid as me be wrong? It can’t. It isn’t. I love pregnancy. I love being pregnant and I love what each of my pregnancies produced. I loved the excitement of it. I loved the “shout it from the rooftops” aspect of it. I simply loved everything about it. Each day was glorious and I talked it’s praises to anyone who would listen. My mother was never so sick and tired of me as she was when I was pregnant. I get it. I get all of the hype and attention and joy surrounding it. I do understand. Now let me tell you what else I understand that you may not. Want.
What I speak of is not the same type of desire as “I could really go for a Girl Scout Cookie.” No Ma’am. This is an intense need. A feeling in your heart and soul that you KNOW what you were placed on this Earth to do and now somehow lack the most necessary tools to do it. The indescribable need for something that you cannot have. Not in the same way as “Wow, I can’t have a billion dollars and that really sucks.” No, more like being taunted with it. The idea of it hung in front of you and then jerked up out of your reach at the last moment. Again and again and again and again…
I have become superstitious. I have heard: “It won’t happen while you are trying so stop trying.” Ummm….okay. Doesn’t really work that way. I have internal dialogue that prevents that from every happening:
Me: I am going to stop trying.
Me: Okay
Me: I am going to ovulate soon.
Me: I don’t care, I’m taking a break
Me: If you don’t at least do it, you for sure are not going to get pregnant.
Me: Okay, but this will be fun sex, not trying sex (oh there is a big difference.)
Me: My breast did hurt….when I walked into the wall….and they say breast tenderness is a sign.
Me: I should start in four days…..and I know there are those tests that say you can test up to four days early……
Me: I thought you weren’t trying.
Me: Oh.
I cannot stop. I have tried and it is simply impossible. It’s like saying you are going to stop wanting to eat. Yeah. When you want something you think about it all the time. Constantly.
Things like:
If I get pregnant this month, I will have a baby in December.
If I get pregnant this month, I will be sick in July and August.
If I get pregnant I will tell Greg in this really awesome way that is related to an upcoming holiday.
If I get pregnant this month I will only be 4 months behind so and so.
If I get pregnant this month, Halle can stop praying for it. She’s been doing it for a few years now.
If I get pregnant this month I won’t tell anyone until they start asking questions.
If I get pregnant this month then I will be more kind hearted to a woman who isn’t.
There is a lot of doubt and annoyance and jealousy that accompanies all of these feelings. I am willing to admit that. And my feelings are in no way YOUR fault. I get that. The continuance of the human race should not stop because of me. I love you, and I am happy for you when you call to tell me you are pregnant, I really am. Somewhere inside. Forgive me if it takes me a moment to dig it out of the bottom of my soul. I know it’s down there somewhere, and I will come up with it in a day or two. I will try my hardest to support you. I will ask about how you are feeling and when you find out what your having. I will not actually burst into tears while you are standing in front of my. My arm around my little girl who prays for a baby on a daily basis that I am somehow unable to produce. I myself have stopped praying for it all together. Ah, but that’s another post.
I play the game every two weeks. It goes like this:
Day 8 of cycle: Lets gear up now girls. We are going to be successful this month! I feel it in my elbow!
Day 10: Get the show on the road if you know what I mean….
Day 12: What was that!?! That twinge? Was that ovulation? I had better google what it feels like. Just like I did every month for the last three years.
Day 15: Find new and exciting ways to keep the worn out husband on board.
Day 17: Okay. I probably ovulated….I think. Is it safe to stop? Probably not.
Day 20-24: Frantically look for signs. Yet, don’t tell anyone about the signs you think you find. Nobody but20your gay best friend. Not Greg because you want to surprise him with it. Nobody else, because if you tell, you have to admit failure when you actually start in 4 days and that is difficult to do without crying.
Day 24: start testing. Figure and re figure days past ovulation and how it affects the timing of an accurate test.
Day 28: First day of missed period. Testing continues. With a pounding heart and shaky hands I dip the stick. It looks pink. Blood rushing through my ears. OH MY GOSH!!!.......waiting……waiting……nothing. I then proceed to take the whole test apart in an effort to see a faint line that doesn’t exist. Nope. Not there. I usually throw the whole thing as hard as I can against the wall. I then decide to stand up and flush….oh but don’t forget to wipe first. And there it is. The dreaded period has arrived. The fat lady has sung. It’s all over.
This is when the crying and ranting starts. Poor Greg and Eric try to console me. Now comes the questions:
Why not?
Why EVERYONE but me?
Why not just be happy with what I have?
I’m probably being punished.
Probably being punished for not being a good mom.
For not being a good enough person.
Probably because lately, I fail at everything. I can't seem to change anything in my life. Why should this be different?
Geez, who have I let down? My daughter, my husband, the aching need I feel every day of my life….before I forget, I need to mark this on the calendar as day ONE.
Yeah. It’s a fun game to play. I have played for three years this month. I have played while listening to some women complain about morning sickness. Their hips hurt, they can’t sleep, it’s not a girl, they can’t come up with a name, they can’t eat chocolate, they can’t wear their old clothes anymore, they feel fat, they are uncomfortable……SHUT UP ALREADY! Take inventory of your situation and appreciate what you have and stop bitching about it to me!!! It’s like saying to a person dying of thirst….oh, this water I am drinking only has 3 ice cubes and I prefer 4. And is that a floaty in the bottom of the cup? GROSS!
Perhaps you aren’t complaining. Not everyone is. If you are not a complainer and you are a friend of mine who is pregnant, disregard that last paragraph. Don’t let your raging emotions get all worked up over it.
Don’t get all offended about anything else either. Don’t get mad if I get quiet when you talk about names. Don’t be put off if I don’t call you back to hear all about an ultrasound. Don’t think it’s all about you if I don’t want to read your blog and look at your baby ticker.
And of course, I do want to hold your new baby. And yes, I do want to hear updates. Please call when you find out what it is and when it’s born. I want to know, and I will deal with all the conflicting emotions that I have. I am completely aware of how bipolar it all sounds. It's not rational.
That’s how it is on my side of the fence. Just wanted to give a little perspective.
