LJ Idol Week 5: Fear is the heart of love

[flipflop_diva]

It’s the same every month.

I head into the bathroom, hands shaking, heart in my throat. I’m confident that this time is it. I think maybe I’ve been more tired than usual (it has nothing to do with all those late nights of work). I think maybe I felt a little queasy one morning (I’m sure I wasn’t imagining it). I’m pretty sure that random bout of hiccups the other day is a sign (it doesn’t matter that absolutely everything I googled said it’s not. I saw a comment from some random stranger on the internet who totally said it is.)

I pick up the package, hands still shaking, unfold the directions I have read every month for the past few months (I don’t want to forget anything important). I slide the applicator out of the package, terror now beginning to overwhelm everything else.

I’m not sure if I’m more scared it will be a no, or more scared it will be a yes.

•••

I never thought I would be a mom. I still don’t really. But it’s different now.

Back when I was in high school, in college, it was just never something that was on my radar. I remember being asked during class when I was a junior in college to write out where we saw ourselves in ten years. I was going to be a journalist (that was before I discovered I really, really hated reporting) and a best-selling author.

Almost everyone else in my class mentioned a career — and a family.

It hit me then that having that life wasn’t something I saw for myself. Maybe not so much because I didn’t want it, but more because I wasn’t sure I deserved it (I was a very late bloomer).

But times changes things. And twenty years later I have a husband and a mortgage and a bag full of ovulation strips that I dutifully use for testing every single month and a nagging fear that maybe I waited too long and this just isn’t meant to be.

•••

I put the test on the counter and back away. It’s the longest three minutes of the month. I can’t look away, watching as the color starts to seep across the empty white space, waiting for my fate to be told.

I can see her if I close my eyes (I’m sure if she happens, she will be a girl). She has dark hair and green eyes, just like me. She definitely does not have my nose, because no child deserves that. She has my fingers, though — long and slim, like a pianist. She could play, if she wants (I definitely did not want).

She’s going to be a perfect angel, I know it. She’ll be quiet and content and sleep through the night. (She definitely will not be like my four-year-old niece who throws tantrums at school when other kids steal her place in line. My sister was the bad kid of our family. That is her karma. That’s how it works, right?)

I think about the app I’ve already downloaded and all the comments I’ve read and all the horror stories and fear grips me again. What if I never get pregnant? What if something happens to the baby? What if the baby is born and then something happens? What if I’m not a good mom? What if …, what if …, what if ….

I picture that little girl again. I can see her so clearly. I wonder if she will ever be more than a fantasy.

•••

I open my eyes and read the directions for the second time. They couldn’t be more clear. Two lines means yes. One line means no.

I stare down at the test. I’m sure if I wait just ten more minutes that second line will appear (the three minutes the directions say is totally just a suggestion).

I tell myself it’s actually really better this way. We have that party next week with all our friends; they would totally notice if I didn’t even have a margarita. And my dad’s been talking. He wants to take the whole family to Cabo this summer. If I don’t get pregnant for a few more months, I can go too.

So, yes, it’s totally better this way. No question.

I sneak another look at the test. There is still one pesky line. I drop it in the trashcan. (I definitely don’t pick it back up a minute later to check again.)

I pick up my phone, try to distract myself that way. But after the third Facebook posts with pictures of my friends with their newborns, I put that away.

Sometimes I think life would be so much easier right now if I had never decided I wanted this. More relaxing. Less worried. Definitely less fear.

I finally leave the bathroom, to go tell my husband the bad news.

It’s too late to stop wanting it now.



Written for Week 5 of therealljidol. To read the other entries for this week, go here. Voting will be up Sunday night.

Comments

[j0ydivided.livejournal.com]

Oh, this hit close to home.

I hope it happens for you.

[sigrundora.livejournal.com]

*hugs*

[xlovebecomesher.livejournal.com]

*hugs*

[kehlen.livejournal.com]

I really enjoyed reading about the emotional roller coaster that your situation is. And I hope your wish comes true soon.

[kehlen.livejournal.com]

This may have sounded callous, but I mean that you took me with you on it, even though I have never wanted to be a mother. Very well written.

[penpusher.livejournal.com]

One of my good friends from LJ also went through a few years of this same ordeal. She actually made youtube videos detailing the process and they were so difficult to watch because she was in so much pain over the fertility issues and you could see she was trying to stay upbeat and happy but she obviously was not.

I mention that because about three weeks ago, she had her perfect little girl! Good wishes to you!!

[bleodswean.livejournal.com]

Great job here detailing these pain-filled internalizations. I wish you the best.

[eternal-ot.livejournal.com]

Good Luck! Sometimes it's worth the wait :) Well written piece.

[rayaso.livejournal.com]

You did a great job writing about the stress, nervousness, and attempting to cope with another disappointment. I hope you get that second stripe soon.

[bewize.livejournal.com]

I'm so sorry. This was a painful read. I hope your wish comes true.

[mamas-minion.livejournal.com]

You did a wonderful job of putting your emotions and frustrations into words. I hope you get good news soon.

[halfshellvenus.livejournal.com]

That is such a tough situation to be in We went through it with our first, who was a lot harder to "start" than we expected.

I like this approach to the topic-- different from the usual, but heartfelt and very worth writing about.

[adoptedwriter.livejournal.com]

I remember going through this same process years ago, and now I have 2 girls! Hugs...Hope it happens soon! I'm rooting for ya! Hugs...

[magazhchi.livejournal.com]

Well told and I hope your wish is fulfilled soon. *Hugs*

[my-name-is-jenn.livejournal.com]

*hugs*

[alycewilson.livejournal.com]

If this is nonfiction, I hope that it happens for you. It took my sister a while to conceive, and it was only after they finally went to a doctor for tests that it actually did happen, as if just accepting that something might be off made it happen!