For this weeks Writing Workshop, the lovely Josie wants us to tell her what we want, what we really really want. So I pondered if, in fact, what I wanted was indeed to “zig a zig, ah” and nope, turns out that no, that’s not it.
Yes, that was awful but I had to distract myself briefly before I starting writing this post, because what I do want is a family. That is all I have ever wanted, all I’ve ever dreamed about. I blogged along a similar vein here so I’m going to try and not overlap on that post and specify that the key part of my dream is being pregnant; carrying a baby inside me, giving birth, raising that child. In fact, watching One Born Every Minute each week on channel 4 has only made me more broody than before. I think I assumed it would bring home the reality to me, like it did for several people I follow on twitter who commented on never wanting children, and it did; it proved to me that the reality would be even more fulfilling, rewarding and magical than the dream.
For as long as I can remember there has been a hole in my life, not due to any traumatic experience or some deep seated parent problems, I’ve been through counselling and I know myself very well, I have resolved my issues, the hole is for my children. I am trying to think of a way to explain the emptiness and the longing that would convey to you just how it feels, but I think it that it is one of those things that only those who have felt it can really know. For me it is a physical pain in the pit of my stomach, it is tears and despair each month as another chance passes by, but worst of all is the unbearable jealousy that goes hand in hand with the happiness every time a friend announces her pregnancy. Several of my friends, and “friends”, have got pregnant or given birth recently and it’s taking its toll. Those who are good friends I am honestly over the moon for, I really am, and I feel terrible that it makes me feel so inadequate and jealous but I can’t help it. I would never express these feelings to them of course, and spending time with them and their child does make me smile, but then I come home and can’t help but feel that aching emptiness, amplified by the time spent with the cure. Those that I am not really close to, specifically one who only contacts me when they want something, I don’t feel that happiness for them, I feel pure, unadulterated envy, so much so that I can no longer even look at them. I feel terrible for thinking that they don’t deserve it, that I would be a better parent, that they could never care as much as I do, but nothing will shake that feeling. I don’t know whether that makes me a bad person, or a desperate one.
For now all I can do is keep my fingers crossed that it will happen, sooner rather than later, and ease the pain with babies laughter, children’s hugs and teenagers chats.