So, yeah. I (stupidly!) made myself accountable for my monthlong commitment of posting, and then promptly didn’t follow up. Unless you count the post in which I said, “I’m going to post! Something!”. So *technically* I did not break the promise, and can keep the gold star for June 1. Right? RIGHT?????
NaBloPoMo prompts me: When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?
I went through the phases that I think most kids born in the 80’s or 90’s go through – paleontologist, astronaut, dolphin trainer with super awesome beachy, sexy hair. Teacher stuck around for a pretty good bit – I briefly considered adding getting my teaching certificate in college, and when I was desperate for a job after graduation, I also briefly considered becoming a high school speech teacher (dodged a bullet, there!). That’s not to say I *couldn’t* do it, but to try to wrangle teenagers at the very tender age of twenty-two….hm. That would have been ugly.
There is one thing that has stayed constant, at the top of my To Do list since I was a little girl – to have children. Forgive me for sounding arrogant, but early on most things in life came to me fairly easily (as they were supposed to as a The Firstborn Daughter of A Firstborn Daughter…right?). Most things I tried the first time, I was good at – it came naturally. I didn’t have to work that hard – I was just *good* at swimming, I was just *good* at dancing, I was just *good* at singing, I was just *good* at school, just *good* at making friends. These were the things I *wanted* to do, and they Just Happened for me. Now, please don’t ask me to draw you a picture, and trust that you do NOT want me on your softball team. But those things didn’t matter that much to me, so Meh, moving on. I’m not devastated over them.
So the fact that getting pregnant has not Just Happened for me has been extremely difficult to accept. That’s not who I am, right? The One Who Can’t Get Pregnant? That One? Except that it has. Rather, I have let it define me, at least in my mind. Even though I’ve been pretty open about our struggles with infertility on This Here Blog, I’ve been pretty tightlipped about it with family – mostly because I don’t want the added pressure, but also because it is so hard for me to say out loud – because that makes it Real. And also because, while I appreciate the support, I don’t want to be pitied. I especially don’t want to see That Look. Because at much as it may sting my heart to hear of yet another friend/cousin/classmate getting pregnant, or seeing pictures of growing bellies and babies, I can still be happy. But seeing The Look just makes me mad and punchy.
But I know that being pregnant is not the only way to mother, or to be a Mama. Maybe there’s a reason for all of…This. But I have a hard time making myself believe that.
I begin another round of Clomid this weekend – with a long running start, here I go flinging myself off the cliff again, eyes squeezed tight, arms spread wide, holding my breath, feeling exhilarated and hopeful and terrified.
I’ve joined NaBloPoMo for the month of June – I’m committing to myself (and to you, my little chickens) to posting every day this month. Except for when I don’t.