The universe, god, or fate, whatever you call it, has one fucked up sense of humor. How do I know? Oh, it's easy. You see, right now, I am feeling a just a wee bit fragile: the sight of pregnant women or babies just breaks my heart. I can't bear to be around either right now, and so what happens? Every woman in the tri-county area is dragging around eleventy-three crotch droplets, or is expecting a few. Either way, fun times!
Sid took me out to eat on Monday, and our waitress? Was hugely pregnant. I almost cried. I kept my eyes to the table, or stared out the window, rather than look at her. I just couldn't take it. Petty? Sure. Painful? Hell yes.
Afterward, we did some game shopping, and again, with the pregnant women stalking me. I could have screamed. Did I just not notice this before? Is it just now, because I'm so sensitive to it, that I notice? Or am I being kicked while I'm down? Because that's what the fuck it feels like.
Anyway, the very next day we were expecting to have a quiet day at home. Sid didn't have work, and we were just going to sit around the house and have fun. But his temporary cap shattered, and we had to make an emergency trip to the dentist. While he's in the back getting his gold toof, in walks a couple with a baby. Couldn't have been more than three months old, this little girl, and she was the most beautiful little thing. I couldn't stop staring. And I didn't know that anything could be so hard as sitting in that waiting room and trying to pretend that I was not absolutely shattered.
Every little noise that baby made, my heart would start pounding and I'd feel that weird sense of needing to do something, but not knowing what. The only thing I can compare it to is when you're young, and you start having sex dreams: you wake up all in a sweat, with your heart pounding, and there is such a sense of excited, sad yearning. You wake up feeling as though you have missed something terribly important, something that would have absolutely changed you. You know that you are missing something, but you don't know what it is.
Oh, it doesn't make any sense. I'm not sure that even Sid would understand. He seemed to think it was kind of amusing, when on the way home, I offhandedly mentioned the cute little baby in the waiting room. He asked me "You really want a baby, don't you?" And of course, instead of opening that can of worms, I brushed it off: "No, I just thought she was really cute. I wanted to pinch her fat little arms." I think if he knew the truth, it would wound him terribly, and I don't want that. He always says he wants to make me happy, and in this, he can't just go out and buy something, or take me away for a weekend, or do whatever it is that he thinks I want, because I never ever ask for anything.
But what would be the harm in just once acknowledging it? Just once? I came close at the restaurant. I told him pretty much the same thing that I said in the opening paragraph: "The universe has a sick sense of humor, Sid, because right now, I can't stand the sight of pregnant women, and remember the day my 'period' started? The pregnant woman at the mexican restaurant? And now this server, here? It's fucked up." And he agreed that yes, it was fucked up, and that was as far as the conversation went. What would be the harm in just one time telling him, "Yes, I want a child. I want to make a better family than the ones we came from"? If he's read this blog, then he already knows. And in that case, we're both passive-aggressive shits, because I haven't brought it up, and neither has he.