(I suppose it makes sense that jealousy is known as the green eyed monster, since I am also green eyed).
So, unless J. and/or A. is (are?) pregnant, there are now three of my tiny little social circle who are expecting. If I promise that I am genuinely happy for you, will you forgive me this post? Hope so (update: A’s 9 weeks along. Sigh).
Anyway, so, we aren’t Trying anymore. I have literally gone from being thisclose to in vitro to debating birth control (because if I know that it’s impossible I won’t spend half the month wondering if the stars might have aligned just right, just this once. I just want to remove the possibility).
I thought I was over this. Seriously. I’d started to believe that infertility was just a really cheap form of birth control. After our Xmas trip up north, I thought I was miraculously healed from my 5 year (!) exile in Babylust City. Of course I was wrong. It’s like the Visiting Santa Claus scene in A Christmas Story, when Santa tells Ralphie that he should ask for a football but Ralphie remembers at the last second “HELL NO, I don’t want a football!” (Not sure what the football equates to in my metaphor – third dog?)
So, I’m sad. And angry. But I am not angry at any of you (mostly just me). I am truly delighted for my friends and family; I wanted this so much for each of you. I just thought that sooner or later I’d get to go on the boat, too, instead of waving to you from the shore.
I am, however, so very very pissed off at my husband. I am so mad at him. So very mad at him. Why does his unhappiness take precedence over my happiness? Things ended so badly with his son – well, not that they’ve ended, I guess bad can just continue ad infinitum – and he understandably doesn’t want to risk his heart again. I understand that. I was patient, though. I was good. I waited and waited. Waited for weight loss, waited for surgery, waited to pay down some debt, waited to try to conceive, tried to conceive, blah blah blah.
I want to stop hurting. I want someone to say, “oh, I’m so sorry. that is terrible” instead of saying “guess what? twins!” or “why no, we never plan to move out of your parents house, freeloading assholes that we are.” I want to stop crying about this. I want the world to stop passing me by, everyone in rows of three or more.
I don’t fit in anywhere. “Childfree” suggests someone who doesn’t want kids. “TTC” is not true. “Stepparenting” isn’t really true since the boy is not part of my life. “Infertility issues” comes close but I’m not trying to fix them. I had a fix. He took that away from me. Where is the board on BabyCenter “Want to TTC, have male factor infertility, DH refuses to even try IVF because of supposed money issues but really because his heart is broken due to his stupid seeyounexttuesday exwife”?
(WHORE WHORE WHORE WHORE WHORE)
He stole two children from me, my stepson and the child I will never have.
If I could time travel I would go back 17 years and find husband and say “You are so close to free from her [whorewhorewhorewhore], just wank it a little longer and wait!”
Or, I’d go back to 1996 and say “Don’t do it, just don’t do it.” To myself
Or, I’d go back to 1999 and say “You are so close to free from him, just wait!” To myself, again.
What would have happened? Would I be in a good marriage? A bad marriage? Would I be a mother? Would he have found me in time?