Let me preface this by saying that I know now is not the time. So please, no comments about enjoying married time, waiting a while, etc. I’ve heard it all.
But I still have baby fever. Bad.
If this blog is about (re)discovering myself and what I’m meant to be doing with my life, which it is, then it is only appropriate that I have a frank discussion about my deep desire to have a family. (Side note: can it really be considered a discussion if it’s just me “discussing” this with my keyboard, flashing cursor, blank white computer screen? Need to look into this.)
The Fiancé and I have a plan. It’s a plan that works and fits into what I’ve always envisioned for my life. We’re getting married in September, we’ll spend a year or so enjoying being married, and then (hopefully) start our family. Which means, if everything works like it should, we will start our family before I’m 30, which is what I want. We’ll get a house in a couple of years, and then start living the suburbia life of bliss. Well, okay, I’m not totally serious about that, but yeah.
I have come to a time in my life where I know a lot of people who have reached that time in their life. So many friends and acquaintances have found themselves ready and able to start families of their own. Some are younger than me, some older, some my age. But they’ve all reached that all-important time in their life. I’ve been bombarded with updates on Facebook about new pregnancies and babies being born. I’ve heard from multiple couple friends that they want to start trying in the next few months. And this has left me in a state of… Not jealousy, not really. Heartache, sort of. Panic? Maybe. Whatever the feeling is, it has not helped the depression I’m dealing with.
What makes it particularly hard is reconciling the feelings I have when I hold my best friend’s seven month old son. It brings feelings of joy the likes of which I’ve never felt before to hold that boy in my arms, see his smile and hear his giggles, see him take in the world around him with such fascination, watch him fall asleep when he’s found just the right spot. Then there’s a second emotion that creeps in and steals the show. A sinking feeling deep in my heart. A feeling of wanting this so badly for myself, but knowing it’s (what feels like) a long way off. Jealousy, longing, love for the Fiancé all rear their head and it’s hard to swallow the feelings that well up inside.
Since quitting my teaching job, I’ve been on a search for what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. The thing is, I know what I was put on this earth to do. I was put here to love the Fiancé, to be a wife and a mother. Maybe that’s an outdated vision for myself to most of you, but I have felt that I was made to be a mother since I was very young. I was the five year old with a whole brood of baby dolls that she carted around, pretending to have her own huge family. I know this isn’t super strange to most women, but there are quite a few of my generation to whom this is total blasphemy. Women weren’t made just to bear children. And I know that. I can do a lot of other things. But my very soul is screaming to be a mother, and I can’t deny that for much longer.
I can tell this is bothering the Fiancé, too. Not because he feels the same way, but because he doesn’t. He does not understand why the topic of babies makes me withdraw. He does not and he cannot. He can never understand what it’s like to feel like you were made to do something (quite literally, in the case of giving birth), but having to put it off. Of course it’s the logical thing for us to do, and that’s always the reasoning he gives, but my heart and my brain are saying two different things, and my uterus is throwing in some nice screaming just for the fun of it. And a man really cannot understand that.
I wish I could explain to him how any time I look at him, any time he does something sweet and caring, all I can think about is how amazing of a dad he’s going to be to our children, and how much I want to give him that opportunity. I want to create this little life out of our immense love that I thank God for every single day; I want us to come together to raise this life to be as good and passionate a human being as his or her father is; I want us to give this little human experiences and journeys and all the little life lessons my parents gave to me. I want to do this with no one but the Fiancé because our love is that burning in me, that great and wonderous and surprising. It is everything I dreamed love would be and so, so much more. I feel like the universe can’t contain all of the love I feel for and from this man. And I want us to share this love with a family of our own. I’ve tried, but I feel like, up to now, my attempts at explanations have been futile.
As you can see, I’ve got it bad. I know the logical reasons for waiting, and I’m certain we will. But my heart, until then, will hurt with my desire. And I hope you understand.