bliss-sad's Diaryland Diary


deep secret fears

I'm starting to replace the "if's" with "when's" in terms of having a child. I've found a local doctor who works with infertility; he comes highly recommended and, depending on the severity of my case, will refer me to a specialist I've also heard great things about.

I can't wait to just get the process started. Devon is so afraid of pushing me or making me feel bad about my fertility issues that he's almost shy about bringing up having a baby. Whenever I bring it up, he beams with joy. He's so ready to be a father, and he's been so incredibly patient and understanding with me wanting to wait until I was ready.

There were just so many things that I had to address; so many things in myself that I had to fix and work on and learn to cope with before I could really justify taking on the responsibility of a life.

If there's one silver lining in the struggle to get pregnant, it's that it never happened to me with the wrong person or at the wrong time. I'm not entirely sure if any of our friends have actually tried to have a baby or it was a surprise, but it always seemed to be the latter. They never seemed fully prepared to take on the role of parent or aware of just how huge the responsibility was. Perhaps I'm a bit judgmental, but I couldn't help but wonder about so many of my friends priorities.

My old friend, for example, recently broke up with the mother of his child. This sent him into a bit of a tailspin and he came to visit for the weekend to see us and to clear is head. While catching up on life and explaining the demise of the relationship, he explained that he worried his former partner wasn't stable--that he believed that she had postpartum depression and that her unwillingness to face it or seek treatment ultimately made it impossible to be together. He said she was angry, that she would yell and fight, that she would spend a huge amount of time on her phone, just dissociating. Then, when we began discussing his next steps, he talked a lot about moving out of state. He mentioned having friends who could get him odd jobs traveling and that he would love to spend time on the road--that he would love to take time off and just kind of drop out.

I expressed concern about this. Like, dude, you just said you don't entirely trust your baby mama and that she's in an unhealthy place and you feel as though she's not giving your daughter the attention and focus she deserves and yet your plan is to pack up and move? I told him that I thought his daughter needed him. I explained how important my relationship with my father was--and still is. I explained how his alcoholism affected me, how I spent a huge amount of my adolescents seeking desperately seeking validation from anyone because I wasn't getting it from him. I explained that the most important thing he could do--from my perspective--was just be there. He confessed that he felt awkward around her, that his former partner had made him feel as though he was an inferior parent and that she would always "take the lead", and I had to remind him that he's her father. Half of his job is showing up and fucking loving her.

He said that all of his other friends had encouraged him to move, to travel, to see things and that I was the only one to tell him to stay behind and build a life for her.

8 months later, he bought a home 15 miles away from the job he loves and is getting more and more time with his daughter as time passes.

Like, I'm so fucking ready to make these sacrifices. Sometimes I feel bitter that there are so many shitty parents out there--so many people who just had a child and took the experience for granted.

Again, thank God it didn't happen with the wrong one but in almost 8 years of unprotected sex, we've never even had a pregnancy scare.

I hope I can do this. I want it so bad, and yet I'm so afraid to truly let myself admit how badly I want it. I can't say it out loud, in real life. I probably appear flippant to so many people when I talk about it, but it's a defense mechanism.

For a long time, I always said I'd never have children and I can't help but wonder if some part of me just knew that I couldn't have them.

10:44 p.m. - 06.15.19


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