I spent the weekend playing house, pretending to be a mother. My 3-year old niece descended for two fun-filled days and nights as the apple of her aunt and uncle's eyes. Typical of her age, she didn't want to go home. . .and I, of course, didn't want to let her go (the situation is complicated by the fact that I returned her not to her own mother, who hasn't had shit to do with her since she was born, but to my 63-year-old, more-than-slightly crazy mother-in-law, but that's a whole 'nother blog post entirely).
Having Little Miss underfoot brought up the usual baby-longing in Mo, who told me repeatedly how much he wants a child of his own. How he would love to fill the house with as many as we could hold. How he wants nothing more than to be a hands-on, pancake-flipping, book-reading, diaper-changing dad.
I, however, am plagued with fears.
What if that vision never comes to pass, for either of us? What if I am not destined to be a mother, or Mo a father? What if treasured, stolen weekends are all we ever get? If borrowed time, bestowed from understanding parents and siblings, is all that we have to look forward to?
I've made Mo promise, over and over again, that he will not back out on me again. My heart, my patience, my spirit could not take it. We're on the calendar, counting days and weeks until December. So much is hanging on this procedure, on this hope that maybe, just maybe, we can put everything that's happened the past few years behind us. That we can stop feeling frustrated, and angry, and just plain sad. That our lives can begin to resemble the life we envisioned when we first started this journey seven years ago.
"Experts" will tell you that no one should ever have a baby in an attempt to save a marriage. What they don't tell you is how NOT having a baby can destroy it. How infertility can drive a couple apart, isolating them in their pain, and preventing them from ever being truly happy. I don't think I can survive a lifetime of childlessness -- I know for a fact that my marriage won't.
And so I wait, and pretend, and try to reassure myself that it isn't too late. That the dreams I've held for so long are still possible. And I try desperately to silence my fears.
And in the back of my mind, impossible to ignore, is the question: what if it doesn't work?
And equally frightening: what if it does?
Sunday, October 4, 2009
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Oh, girl. Hugs, hugs, and more hugs. I think I understand this more than you know.
ReplyDeleteI wish only good things for you.
Hoping that you are finding time to take care of Jo--and finding moments of sanity in all this insanity.
You and Mo have a lot of issues to work out. Infertility and loss puts a strain on anyone's marriage, and you two have been at it a loooooong time. Yes, you need to find time to take care of yourself, but Mo needs to be on board as well. I went through this (on a much smaller scale) with my husband, and in his case, it wasn't that he didn't care about me, it was that he didn't know how to fix me, and (being a guy) he ham-handed his way through a lot of it. I see a lot of insecurity and procrastination due to that in Mo. You've said yourself he makes promises he can't keep. Ever thought this might be one of them? That he's making another promise just to appease you? And that maybe you don't want to admit it to yourself? I considered these things for awhile too, but when my husband broke down and cried when he set up the crib, and with me periodically, I realized he was just as torn up as I was. He just showed it differently. I don't know, but you've not described any of these moments with Mo (if there are any). You will be a wonderful mother. I had to decide if I could be a good mother with my husband. I realized I could. The question is can you? Love ya, babe.
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