Here goes my first shot at this.
It has been weighing on my mind heavily, and those closest to me know all about it, but I guess it is just part of being woman.
(Sorry for the re-run guys..)
Let me just say a few things before I dive headfirst into a pool full of my feelings, I am happy. I really am! It is just difficult sometimes when life isn’t where you thought it would be at a particular point on the timeline one has mapped-out for one’s self. This post is not meant to be a guilt trip (Merrill..), just feelings. Lastly, I do not intend to hurt feelings, again, this is just the way I feel.
My mind has been here:
I have said it before, at least 3,476 times that I know of, I LOVE being a mother, I LOVE being pregnant, I am one of those crazies who LVOES EVERYTHING about labor and delivery.. I just love being a woman. I embrace my calling in life.
If I had one more, there, inevitably one day, would be the desire for “just one more”, and so it would go on and on until the end of time. Even if I were physically incapable of bearing children, there would still be those golden memories of days past, the longing for those sweet memories and moments of this time.
I just enjoy it.
I have been focusing lately on what I do have, enjoying every minute of it, and not longing for what might/could/should be.
(In my personal timeline, #5 should be cooking away..)
Things were going swimmingly with my daily mantra until that mid-cycle time of the month hit on Sunday. In all of it’s ovulatory glory (pretty sure that phrase was just invented, BY ME!) amid headache, backache, front ache, my body was screaming at me, “YOU ARE SO FERTILE!!!”
The one and only thing that would take all of this ovulatory discomfort away (since Tylenol and Advil weren’t doing what I thought and what is rumored that they should..) was pregnancy itself.
It is true.
That harsh reality led to another wave of the “I wish I were pregnant” emotion.
Merrill and I do talk about it. He might try to tell you it is an every day occurrence, but it really doesn’t come up that often, and I can honestly say if it does get brought up, it is brought up by one of the girls, or an anxious grandparent.
It’s not always me.
I will never understand the anxiety he feels as a provider, just as he will never quite understand the desire I have as a woman, to experience that joy, the happiness this experience brings to my life.
It just is the way it is.
I have trouble voicing these feelings out loud, in my own little nook of blogitopia, because I know of so many who long for the same joy, who long for it the same way I do, but are having difficulty finding it, having it.
I guess I just don’t want to seem insensitive. I know that my situation is one of choice, not circumstance.
I hope that this little outburst of mine helps someone, helps my own daughters, someday, to understand how I felt about this aspect of my life.
And now that my mind is clear, I can get on with it.