Of late, I have been astounded by the number of people that I know that have fallen pregnant: I swear, it's a conspiracy. My next door neighbour gave birth just before I moved in: I still haven't been able to fully meet her: sure we say hi, whenever we meet but that's it. And the sad thing is that I know we could be friends: she is around my age, her husband works at the same place as my husband used to: a million and one different things that are similar: but she has the baby, and I don't. And that stops me: it hurts enough just walking past her house and seeing her through the window cuddling and playing with her little one, and all the baby things surrounding them. Her happiness alone makes me jealous: haven't I dealt with enough for a just the one small reward? Why her? And not me?
Babies have always been to me the Holy Grail. The ultimate, the one thing I would most before I die. A baby born of me, that is all mine, that I can raise how I want. I often joke that I was never really worried about the husband or the career: all I ever wanted were children: the husband part was highly negotiable, and pffft to the career.
Well, I got the husband. And no children. Or least any that you can talk about in polite society: any that a large part of society classes as children anyway. Or for that fact, no positive pregnancy tests. For me it's always too late: my body is either playing tricks (which for it, sounds about right 90% of the time), or has shut down to make it all go away. Either way, here I am still waiting.
And I don't know how much longer I will be waiting. I've decided to postpone the pushing on doors, finding out what's wrong. I have my own suspicions, and what we know from past tests etc. But right now, the timing is all wrong. Financially, we are in one hell of a mess, and my head space isn't too good right now. Our marriage is under pressure: from both in and out: under seige, I guess you could say. We are working on it, fighting for it. It's survived everything else, no reason it won't survive now. But it's not a place I would go out intentionally to bring a child into (via medical treatments etc).
That's not to say I am giving up on the dream. I wouldn't refuse a child if the miracle was to happen on its own either. We would deal with all the crap and make it the best world it could possibly be for a child of ours. But still, I want to be in the best place I can be in for our child (particularly emotional health-wise). And I am not there yet. I want to be, but right now, I am not.
It means a huge reorientation to my world outlook. For a start, I am trying my best to not see the spare room as a future baby nursery (and therefore have decorating fantasies about aforesaid room), but instead as an office/spare room. But there are constant reminders, everywhere. Particularly people, with their questions and jokes about babies now that we are married. They hurt too: particularly when I turn around and tell them and all they say is "oh well it will happen one day: you're still young: why are you even worried to start with?". It stings. It feels like a slap in the face. Yes, it might happen, but it might require complicated, expensive medical treatments: and if I am having problems now, when I am supposed to be the most fertile, indeed, the most capable, of falling pregnant, it obviously won't bode well for me later... Add in my Crohn's Disease, and the future possiblities with that, and I don't know what I am looking at.