Yesterday, I told Sid that I couldn't remember the last time I cried. Which was a lie: I remember quite clearly the few times in my life I have truly broken down and sobbed. Yesterday would have been one of those times, had I been alone. But I wasn't. All day I'd been fighting tears, and in the evening, after having fought it all day, after being exhausted by pain, I momentarily lost control. In front of Sid. He asked what was wrong, and I said nothing. But everything is wrong, and I don't know how to tell him.
I thought I was pregnant. I pissed on a stupid home pregnancy test and got a positive. And Miss P showed up just as prompt as you please, with cramps that are truly breathtaking. I might go so far as to say these are some of the most exquisite and body-locking cramps I have ever had. If Sid were in this kind of pain, I have no doubt he'd be writhing on the ground, screaming. Because I surely want to.
So there was that; that disappointment, that feeling of failure. But then two of the women who post on the same online community as me have just found out they are pregnant, on their first tries, no less, and it was like salt in an open wound. Here I am at home, hardly able to breathe around the pain, and these women are exulting in the very thing I thought I finally had.
Now, usually, I'm not a very jealous person. When I was little, that wasn't true. It has taken me a long time to reach this point, where I can say "I'm okay with not having that thing," and mean it. But this is not one of those times. And while I don't doubt that these women very much want to be pregnant, that they are looking to the future with hope and promise...I want it, too. It's base jealousy. I'm not proud of it. In fact, I think it's stupid and petty of me to cry over probably one of the happiest moments in the lives of these women. But this feels like one of the lowest in mine, and there's no getting around that.
I have not forgotten how bad I felt the last time we had to put off having a baby. That kind of low, you don't easily forget, okay? I was fucking devastated: I cried for weeks, and I'm not sure Sid ever really understood how badly it hurt me to have to put that dream aside. I don't know how I'll be able to do it again. And I know it's selfish of me, it's a stupid and selfish thing, and I'll admit to it. I very much want the honor, the absolute privilege, of looking into the eyes of a child and knowing that that little girl or boy is absolutely depending on me to show them right from wrong, and help them as they grow...fuck, I just want to give a child the love and acceptance I never had when I was little. I want to make a better family than the one I grew up in. I want to look into the eyes of my child and know that I have broken the cycle of violence passed to me by my mother, and wherever she got it from, all the way back through the generations. I want to look at my child and know that I have finally banished that demon. It's vain. It's unnecessary. I should just let it go. But I can't. I can't. How do you let go of a desire such as that? How do you do it?