in one way or another, i've started this blog post a million times. i never publish it for fear of sounding even more whiny or neurotic, but if you read my blog at all, you know that i am, indeed, both a bit high-strung and admit it often. i feel like before i say or write something like this i need to preface it with a whole lot of talk about how i love the kids, i love my husband, i feel happy and secure in this family of mine, and that overall i do understand how fortunate i am. i have a home i'm happy to come to every night after work, i live with people i love and moreover, genuinely like, the kids are old enough that D and i get to spend a fair amount of alone time together, and all that jazz. while that's all well and true, that's not what i'm going to talk about.
three of my friends are currently pregnant. not just three girls i know, but three people i love and have known for a long time. three women who are awesome, and who are happy to be pregnant, have partners they love, and families who are all so excited to meet these new babies. i'm tremendously happy for them, knitting like crazy, planning and plotting my projects because of course they're all due around the same time.
at the same time, i also feel kind of left out. sad that i never got to have my "own" baby, feeling guilty for being sad about that because i'm fortunate enough to get to parent two amazing kids. not wanting D to think i feel like i'm missing out or resenting him for his vasectomy. knowing that i love the kids and i wouldn't trade them for anything, and knowing that in so many ways i don't actually want a baby of my own, but having that gut reaction anyway; that tiny tug deep down when i hear someone i know and care about gets to have a child. i don't know if it's biological, if in a few years when the last of my own eggs dry up and float off that i won't wake up one morning feeling completely different. i read about women who go through struggles to get pregnant, round after round of IVF and looking for egg or sperm donors, and they talk about feeling "desperate" for a child, about how empty they feel in their own bodies, and i don't quite understand that either. i fall somewhere in between; having a very real, emotional and physical desire to have a child, to grow it and feel it inside me, but not feeling as though my life is unlivable or somehow "less than" without that. i don't want to D to reverse his vasectomy. i don't want the kids i have to feel like they aren't enough for me. i don't want that huge gap between their ages, or for either of them to have to be a caretaker to their younger sibling. i don't want to be much older than i am now and be a first-time parent. when i think of my life in a few years, i think about being happy to watch the kids grow up, and about how D and i have marriage in reverse; the kids first, the solo honeymoon later. even if D didn't shoot blanks, i don't know that a child would be in our plan anyway. things are very good right now; we're in a new house, we're healthy and while we may not be the most traditional of families, i know that we are a happy one.
if i could have what i want, what i would want is this: to have met D earlier in both of our lives. to have known the children while they were younger. to have had a chance to have a child the two of us could have made together. to not just be someone's "stepmom," but to be a mom without qualification.
(and honestly, hand-to-god; if you are one of my lucky friends who is currently pregnant, i'm not trying to say i'm anything but happy for you. i'm thrilled, i love you, but i do wish you'd staggered these kids so i would have three deadlines instead of one!)