Monday, March 16, 2009

because I am a masochist

So, give or take a few weeks, it's been about eight months since Sid and I first started trying for a sprog. EIGHT MONTHS. I realized the other day that a woman I know has gotten pregnant TWICE in the time that Sid and I have been at this. TWICE, I SAY (one blighted ovum that ended in a D&C, and the other she just found out about). And yet for me it's just month after month of failure.

And I know, without doubt, every month when I'm waiting for Miss P, that she's going to show. Because, to use the vernacular, "that's how she do." And yet, every month I get my hopes up and think "maybe this time, THAT'S HOW SHE DON'T!" Yeah, positive thinking changes lives, people. Surely it does. Just not mine. Because I can almost make myself believe it, and then the inevitable happens. And you know what? IT SUCKS.

Sid apologized the other day, and it was funny and heartbreaking all at once. He said, "I'm sorry you have to go through that every month." And I was like "what, the cramps? BITCH, THAT'S NOTHING." Because while I do get the cramps from Hell (I can't even urinate without pain sometimes when it's truly bad), it's nothing compared to the emotional wreckage I'm left with.

And doesn't that sound emo as hell?

Seriously though, emotionally, it's just harder to deal with. I can take a couple Motrin to blunt the physical pain of the cramps. And I can take a long hot bath while I wait for the pills to work. I can't really do that to stop the anger, the sadness, the frustration. There's nothing I have on hand to stop that elastic band that tightens up under my ribs and makes it hard to breathe when I think maybe it's just never going to happen.

I got Miss P this weekend (oh, joy!), and I seriously could not tell you what I did with myself besides piss off Sid. We argued to the point where I just wanted to bust his chops. I wanted to ask him when would enough be enough, when would he finally decide that it's not going to happen to us like it does for other couples? When will he finally throw in the fucking towel and concede defeat? When will it be time to seek outside help? But it's not a discussion I want to have while we're angry. I'm a bitch, but I'm not stupid: Once I'm done fucking around with my menstrual cup, and we've both cooled off (give it a few days on both counts) I'll be ready to initiate that conversation, and I assure you I won't word it like I did here.

I've asked him before, and he said, "yeah, I need to make an appointment for that" and then he never did it. I DON'T WANT TO BE A NAG. I don't want to be the woman who alienates her husband by demanding "GIVE ME A BABY, NOW!" because that shit never turns out well. But for fuck's sake, enough is enough. I want a resolution to this one way or the other.


Queermo said...

Tim is always telling me to be optimistic, that things will get better for me. One day I will have a car, one day I will not be living from paycheck to paycheck, one day I will have a great boyfriend, etc, is just absolute hogwash.

I believe that optimism does not work so much as advantages in life does. Society needs to get over itself, because I refuse to wear a mask of optimism just to appease it when obviously it does nothing except make me even more miserable when my life has not turned around for the better.

I believe that people need to start being more realistic and honest about how they are feeling. If a stranger approaches me and asks me how I am doing, why lie? If they cannot handle the truth, because it might be a reflection on how they are wearing a mask or because it might make them feel uncomfortable when their lives are hunky-dory, then too bad.

I am almost thirty years old, and I have never owned a car. When I see teenagers getting cars from their parents, you bet your ass I am jealous. Why was my life such a shithole growing up, while others are reaping the benefits because their parents happen to have money?

Am I supposed to be a better person because of my upbringing? Am I supposed to be a happier person because I am worse off than the people with whom I work? Whoever came up with the statistic that poor people are happier than rich people must obviously have his head stuck up his ass instead of looking around at the real world.

I could go on ranting, but I think I have stated enough.


starky said...

LOL, I agree with you. I never got anything just handed to me growing up. And the things I do have, I appreciate a lot more now because of it, because I had to wait for it, work for it, maybe even sacrifice for it. When you just have your whole life handed to you on a platter, do you ever have the opportunity to appreciate it's worth?