So, this trying-to-have-a-baby thing wasn’t my idea. When my partner and I got together three years ago, I was quite comfortable in my one-and-done world. My daughter, 14-going-on-30, is both a handful and a breeze compared to these tiny all-consuming creatures. And I never imagined he – never married, quite happy in his fancy free way – would say to me one day that he wants to have a baby.
I thought at first that it was a definite no for me. I’m in my late 30s, finally enjoying some financial freedom and the joys of a child who doesn’t need constant monitoring. But the idea kept niggling it’s way into my heart. Who am I to deny C the joys of fatherhood, when I love him so badly. He’d never know the sweet smell of a freshly washed baby snuggling under your chin, the love that swells in your chest when she smiles and coos at you, and the euphoria of crazed toddler laughter. I just couldn’t bring myself to make that decision for him.
So, the IUD came out, and we got pregnant that month. Easy. Too easy. Miscarried at 10 weeks. And now, what I once thought I was doing for him, has become my path, my quest, my heart. Going into this, I thought I’d be safe from heartache because it wasn’t my idea. I was wrong.
It wasn’t so bad. Mostly still not wallowing and getting along pretty well. Then it was dinner at my mum’s with the rest of the family, everyone talking about the sister – in – law’s pregnancy and how she’s eating for two. Somehow my normally sensitive but apparently now insane mother looks at my plate and says “goodness, T, are you pregnant?!” Considering the miscarriage last November and the fact that everyone at that table knew we had been and are still trying, I managed to croak out “No” before seeking protection in my phone. The evening ended shortly after with me still shellshocked and unable to do much but nod when she said a quick sorry as we scurried out the door. I love my mother and my large family, but I’m happy I’ve got two weeks to find my brave face before I climb back on that particular horse.
I made it about two hours. Then Sara Bareilles’ I’m Only Human came on the radio and the perfect melodrama of it made me laugh. The sun is shining too brightly today for such darkness. Plus, I have five days of caffeine, two weeks of whoopie, and ten days of hoping for a new piece of my heart in store for me. Not such a bad deal after all.
Got my period today. Woke up to nasty cramps and though I knew it was coming, it still hit me hard. I will wallow today and drink diet Mt. Dew because I can.
So, the cycle begins again: another five days of this then another two weeks of that followed by about 10 days of the other. Period, determined sex, and waiting, all for another try, another season, another eternity.
It can be hard watching movies and TV when trying to get pregnant. Babies and pregnant ladies seem to be used like seasoning, a little here, a little there. Never know where they might pop up actually. And when you’re looking for a little escape from the incessant babythink, a pregnant lady sidling up and waving “look at me” from the middle of the latest superhero thing can be a bit jarring.
Why is it that I see pregnant ladies and babies everywhere? Were they there before I started trying to get pregnant and I just didn’t see them? Or, and this is what I feel deep down, is it just Fate’s nasty trick? I swear that all these pregnant ladies are being pregnant *AT* me (thanks for illustrating that perfectly, Momastery!) And accidentally pregnant, at that. My sister-in-law who was done with having kids, and then BOOM! My co-worker who threw up her birth control pill one flu-infested day and BAM! It’s a frickin conspiracy, I tell you.
Last night, I dreamt of puppies. One puppy, actually. A cute little beagle that was snuggling on my lap, with his stomach to the sky, safe and trusting. There was a lemur with a broken tree branch in there somewhere, but it’s the beagle that stuck with me when I woke. Today, the day I imagine my period will arrive like the T-Rex at the end of Jurassic Park – sharp teeth at the ready and with no warning whatsoever. I got out of bed and pulled on my favorite pair of white jeans. I don’t know of they’re a shield or a plea.