(This is, in an offhanded way, a follow-up to last week’s post on marriage)
Yes, it’s weird, I’ll admit it.
I find myself thinking about pregnancy and babies often. I even find myself standing at the mirror, staring at my flat stomach, and wishing that it wasn’t.
I know there’s a lot of shit in my life that I need to get together before I let someone in, let alone someone that has to grow and be nourished inside of my body for nine months.
Maybe the obsession stems from the general feeling that there is something missing in my life. But I know this is one thing that I can’t do until I’m good and ready, or at least until my body can handle reasonably well being off of all of the meds I’m currently on that are not safe for a fetus.
Then there’s the question of whether I can get pregnant at all, or if I could do so safely. I’ve never discussed this with my rheum. Sure, I’m in my “childbearing years,” but it’s not as if I have anyone in my life steady enough that I would want to have a child with. To me, these are questions that you raise when you’re ready to “put a ring on it.” And yet I find myself thinking about them, anyway, in the absence of a man, let alone a ring, or a promise of forever.
I guess there’s also the feeling of time ticking down. Like I don’t know how many “good” years I have left. It’s my own summation that I will probably need a hip replacement before I’m 35. And my fear of time, or the absence of it, could be completely unfounded. But the fear is there, in the back of my mind.
I haven’t mentioned this feeling to many people, not even to my good friends, not even the married ones. Because I don’t think they’d really understand. When it comes down to it, they should be able to have children whenever they want. But for me, it’s going to be a cold, calculated, planned event. I can imagine that if I asked a fortune teller who had a crystal ball, the response would be, “The future is cloudy, it isn’t clear.” And maybe in reality, that’s true for everyone. But it feels especially true for me.
And I have to wonder, can a body gone haywire handle the miracle that is life at all? Is my body capable of supporting another human being, if it isn’t always capable of supporting me? These are questions that I will someday actually have to face.
It would be nice to ask them now and have someone who shares the desire to have the answers to them, too. But on the other hand, they could change everything, for better or for worse. And I truly don’t know what the answers will be.
As someone who was severely premature when I was born, and who is still on the small side, I would venture to guess that I’d be a high risk case in the absence of lupus and rheumatoid arthritis, adding insult to injury.
As I say, these questions and ideas aren’t well formulated. I haven’t really done any research into this, as none of this is happening tomorrow. But the thought of having a baby swims inside my head, begging for primacy.
I even find myself having cravings. Anything salty or sweet that comes from a package and is completely unnatural. I feel like my body is nesting (or at least bulking up for the winter?). But maybe it’s just my hormones talking, trying to prepare me for the next stage of my life. Trying to gear me up for the time when there is someone in my life who wants to be with me forever and settle down and have children. Maybe my body is preparing now because of the long haul that it knows is awaiting it; preparing for what most likely will be a one shot deal to get it right.
Maybe I’m hoping for something to look forward to…someday…maybe…