Comrades, all's quiet on the southern front. The red partisans remain in deep cover, with nary a crampy pot-shot to make their presence known. It's an odd sensation: I'm strangely proud of my ovaries/endocrine system/ etc. I want to issue an organ of the month award or something, for not torturing me with their crazy ways. Somehow, their good behavior is enough positive news to keep me from obsessively hoping or despairing. I avoid the issue.
On that note, I have something to confess. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, so forgive me if I'm covering the same, old ground. But I'm doing all this for my husband. Yes, I know I walk and squawk like a feminist, but I've chosen, of my own free will, to pursue treatments that I find repulsive because he wants a biochild.
He has a fantasy, built up in his mind as solace for a childhood family rupture, that a house with lots of kids will make it better. That he has to have a big, nutty family to make up for the family that fell apart. A big brood would certainly be a change of pace and sometimes, I'm sure, would be a lot of fun, but that's not my dream, really. I'm an only child. A big family was never in my fantasies, and now I find myself contemplating more how I would create an exciting and fulfilling life without any children at all, than whether I would be willing to go for three. [cue maniacal cackling]
Silly speculations aside, what I'm sometimes a bit nervous about is that we'll go through all of this, perhaps successfully, and he'll discover that the resultant reality has nothing to do with the fantasy that spurred the quest initially. Will he be disappointed? Will I be able to pick up any pieces or slack in such a situation? I wish he would seek some therapy for the unrealistic expectations I can sense brewing in his heart. He's not opposed to the idea, but not pursuing it, either. I guess he'll do it when he's ready.
Throughout this whole difficult process, I've shared everything with him. Except the above discussed feelings. The second I even begin to approach the issue, he panics, as if I'm somehow betraying the cause--and him. So I keep my growing apathy to myself.
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4 comments:
I think that we should be able to give Organ of the Month awards. Should you put it on a bumpersticker on the car? "My Left Ovary was an Organ of the Month!"
I really think that you should try to talk to him about your confession. Fantasy and reality are two very different things and he may not really be prepared for what happens when a baby arrives. Maybe you could bring him with you if you go to the therapist to talk about this? It needs to get out in the open because the worst thing would be to have the child and then his little bubble gets very badly burst.
I really hope he can open up to talk about this. Best of luck.
I was thinking about the reality vs. fantasy earlier today. My mom was (gah, ew, stop Mom, STOP) showing me her basal body charts from her getting pregnant with me. I imagine her as wanting a baby and then ending up with me. Geeze, I wouldn't want me.
I think the thing is that the reality might be nothing like the fantasy - except that they are both good, that the love you have for your children is overwhelming, even if the perfect picture you have doesn't come to fruition.
I have seen how having a child changes a person for the better. It's hard for me to imagine that your husband will not be overcome with love by any children you two have, and that will overshadow and replace the expectations he has now. I'm sorry that he won't talk with you about this.
Thanks, gals, for your lovely thoughts and advice. My feelings must out eventually, as you so rightfully note, Mrs. X. But Io and AB, you two also have excellent points about the love that springs up in someone who really longs to parent, and how that love can change everything.
I'm seeing my lovely therapist tomorrow, and I think she can help me come up with a good game plan to broach the subject and communicate my feelings in a not-too-threatening way.
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