There's a few things in my life that have me feeling like my equilibrium has slid out of order, that the see-saw I am on has been abandoned on the other side and I have hit the playground mud with a thud. It's just a few things, from my work no longer being my life, to my family not really speaking to me. I sometimes cling to little oases that I have in my life-writing my blog. The arch of the orchids that hang over my computer monitor. A comforting cuddle from behind by my favorite man as I sleep. Alice. Petunia tiptoeing near by, albeit veering to the left.

Sometimes when I think I have things figured out, that I understand that shape and curve of the waves that I seem to sail my life on, I suddenly find that I didn't really understand the current at all and my little ship gets capsized. My navigation, forever so far off-course that I keep getting bashed about the rocks, has been on solid ground for a bit with the help of a gentle Mr. Y navigator, but sometimes I think he forgets how hopeless I am at steering by myself and he saunters off for a cup of coffee, having to come racing back to help me steer away from the coast (Which way is north? How the fuck am I supposed to know? As the crow flies? What, do I look like a fucking crow?)

Friday Mr. Y and I went to the doctor since I am still just so damn tired that I find getting out of bed hopeless. I refuse to believe it's just depression-this is, after all, one of the few times in my life that I plan on someday recounting in heaven or hell (I never can tell which way I'm going) where I can stab a finger in the air and say: Look. Right here. This is where I am happy. See? Pretty colors, huh?

Big doctor informed me that he actually believes I have a really nice virus, along the lines of glandular fever, if only, as he put it, I weren't too old to have glandular fever.

Well, I'll be damned. Other than a student rail card, this was the first time I'd been told I was too old for something. Looks like the mid-life crisis really is around the corner. I mean, if even a virus passes me by due to my potentially arthritic body, then Jesus it can only be downhill from here.

Anyway, Mr. Y and I then asked about IVF, and what it takes to get on the list with the doctor. Turns out state funded IVF isn't available in our area yet, and won't be for nearly a year. So if we want a sprog, then we have to go private. Doc said he'd forward our name for a doctor and gave us some info, and home we went.

I don't know what triggered it, but we got to talking about this later at home. And the discussion didn't go well-it wound up being a spectacular argument where, while sizzling mushrooms, it turns out Mr. Y needs a bit more thinking time, that he is perhaps not feeling as positive to more children as I maybe had interpreted. I can respect this, I respect that he is not racing into a decision, and I don't fault him. I know that this would be a massive change to our dynamics and that we are rather new to each others' lives. I step back and we agree to go slowly and think about the child issue longer.

I ache-that's right, no melodrama here-I fucking ache to have a child. And the strange, new beautiful thing for me is...I really, really want his child. I want to be a parent with him. He brings out the best and most patient in me, I simply never knew or even suspected I could be so calm and relaxed, and he is such a fantastic and loving father.

Everywhere around me are children and babies. Fucking Lifetime TV channel shows back-to-back shows about having babies all day long, in case you wanted some estrogen to go with that sandwich at lunch, and that's one channel that I have to skip at all costs.

The truth is, I'm not in a hurry to do IVF right now. We should have some time together as just a couple. But I feel a bit of time pressure due to Mr. Y's age, and I don't want to add to his stress about being too old to have kids. I would be happy to do this sometime mid to end of next year, and just spend lots of time travelling, drinking, having romps in the bed, just being together. I have this finite plan in my head, where we try IVF a few times, and if it doesn't work then I guess we are a childless couple. And that thought scares me and makes me feel so small and lonely.

The truth is, I changed my mind. For so many years, I simply didn't want kids. Wasn't interested. No thanks, clearly not for me. It's only over the past few years that I realized I was changing-that I felt a lurch around them, that I really enjoyed the company of children. And spending time with Melissa and Jeff has helped me feel like, although I have issues, I know that my driving desire to protect children is perhaps one of my nicer attributes.

Last night in bed Mr. Y and I talk (not about kids), him holding me and talking to me. So much of what he said makes sense and I agree with-we are still getting to know each other, that although we have been in love for so damn long, it's something new to actually be with each other in a practical sense. The things he says is a salve on my heart and a cup of tea to my soul and I feel so good about what I have with him. I am so in love with Mr. Y that it hits me sometimes like a very gentle push in my ribcage, robbing me of air when I least expect it.

I would be so lost without him.

I wish my cats were here so badly it makes me cry all the time, so I go out and find Petunia and smother him with love.

-H.

Comments are closed on this one. I can't face any "it will work itself out", "you need to decide what you want", "why not adopt", or even "maybe you two should split up and get yourself an Argentianian boy-toy in his twenties that can't wait to procreate". None of those are options. Believe it or not, this whole subject is more difficult to discuss than even my suicide attempt was and deeply affects him and I. If I am not talking sprogs here on my blog for a little while, then it's because I just can't bring it up to the surface of me to discuss. I'm sorry.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 01:12 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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