Baby, Baby, Baby (Feb 24th: 4 Days Late)

4 days late.

4 fucking days late.

I still haven’t told Bear. I still haven’t picked up a pregnancy test. I still don’t know what’s going on.

My period is 4 days late now. 3 days late is explainable. 4 days late? Well, that just sounds a little … something.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I’ve had no choice. My mind is totally and utterly consumed by all things baby right now. I might not be talking about it to anyone, but I’m certainly researching everything there is to know. And I know that I can’t get my hopes too high.

This is part of a series. You can read my struggles with fertility from the beginning right here:

Baby, Baby, Baby

I’ve really thought a few things through, though … 

I don’t think I would want to know if there were something wrong with me. Or with Bear. What’s the point? I’m all for everyone doing whatever they gotta do in life to stay happy, but things like IVF and whatever … ? Well, I’m just not sure that kinda thing is for me.

I’m really bad with medical stuff. I think I’ve had enough of that already. With the bowel business and then the cervical business, I’ve been poked and prodded enough. I’m not so sure that I would like to add more to the mix, for a TINY chance that we could then have a baby at the end of it. I’ve done my research. Well, I’ve done a bit of research. I know that freezing your eggs only comes with a ten percent chance of coming out with a baby later on in life. It seems that we have more options than ever before when it comes to fertility, but I want to keep things simple.

If we can have a baby naturally, we’ll have a baby.

If we can’t have a baby naturally, we won’t have a baby.

I think that’s about as simple as it gets. Why do I think like that? Well, this might be a tad controversial, but whatever. It’s my blog.

Here goes:

I’m a science person. I don’t understand any of it, of course, but I am interested in so much of it. Space, aliens, the evolution of our planet, the stuff that surrounds us, animals, people, atoms, black holes, Planck time, etc.

I don’t believe that God created the world in seven days.

I don’t believe in any religion at all.

I do believe in The Big Bang. Natural evolution. Survival of the fittest, evolving species, all that stuff — that’s nature at its finest. The species that were meant to survive — the strongest and fittest — did because they found a way to. They adapted a little, bred faster, became stronger. If I can’t have children, there’s a reason for that, right? These things happen for a reason, don’t they? That’s what my mama told me when we found out I had miscarried with the Hubby.

“Things happen for a reason.”

I like the phrase. I think things DO happen for a reason. And, for the same reasons, things DON’T happen too. If I can’t have kids, there’s a reason for that. Just like there was a reason for me not having the baby with the Hubby, way back when. I’m GLAD it didn’t happen. I could think of nothing worse than sharing a child with a man I literally wouldn’t piss on if he were on fire. That outcome was the best outcome for me — for us — but neither of us would have known that at the time.

I know people will argue like fuck with what I’ve said and that’s just fine. I’m not asking anyone to agree with me. That’s just the way I look at it. If my body really can’t produce children, then fine, I’ll listen to it. Certain things CAN be helped. I know that. I mean, I know how much of a hypocrite I am because I’ve already had medical intervention to help fight back against pre-cancer. If I truly believed in “survival of the fittest,” I wouldn’t have asked for medical help with that …

I know.

I AM a hypocrite.

But that’s how I feel.

I also know that evolution of the fittest — adapting to survive — could even include IVF and other ways of having kids, thus making it something that I would happily think about. Yes, I have thought about that too. But it just doesn’t sit right with me. I just wish I knew which part of it didn’t sit right with me so that I could perhaps rationalise it, but I can’t. That’s just how I feel.

I watched my aunt and uncle battle for close to ten years before their inability to have kids together eventually led to their demise. I watched them go through round after round of IVF, seeing the sorrow in her eyes even though she didn’t think any of the family knew what she was doing. It was Nan who let it slip. She never could keep her mouth shut. I wouldn’t trust that woman with any of my secrets.

I don’t want to go through all of that with Bear. I don’t want to go through multiple unsuccessful IVF rounds or be jabbed with needles every few days. I definitely don’t want our inability to have kids together to tear us apart, as it did them. Life will be just fine for us without a baby. It will. But if we have the tests and stuff, we’ll know for definite. That’s the thing I don’t think I could deal with: being told that you can’t have kids. I don’t want to hear those words. Even though I would try my hardest for it not to, I know those words would make me feel like a failure — like I were less of a woman, perhaps?

And that’s the end of the journey, isn’t it?

We would never be able to afford surrogacy or IVF. Bear has three kids already. I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t qualify for anything that would come for ‘free’. I’m also pretty sure that adoption and fostering are out the window too, because of Bear’s mental health. Maybe even mine too. That’s cool. I’ve accepted all of that. I have, really. I am going to become the craziest of animal ladies if the baby thing doesn’t happen for me, but a life without kids isn’t really the worst thing in the world. I would feel like I was missing out on something, but I’m sure that a couple of pampered pooches would soon fill that void. Plus, I have Bear and his kids too. I have a lot of love to give. Whether I give it to my own kids or a mansion-full of adopted animals and adopted human waifs and strays, it’ll get given.

I’ve had a lot of disappointment in my life. I feel that being told I wouldn’t be able to have my own kids, or, at least, without a lot of medical intervention, just wouldn’t be productive for me. It wouldn’t change anything, apart from adding to the list of sheer disappointments. I wouldn’t leave Bear to find a man that I could have kids with if he were the problem. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t leave me for a woman that could have kids. I wouldn’t want to try IVF or anything else that required being poked and prodded and monitored to within an inch of my life. I know that I’m over 30 now and probably at the point (or close to it) where baby-making is going to be slightly tougher for me, but if it’s not natural, I just don’t think I want it.

I want a baby.

I really do. But if my body doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. I’m not sure I have the strength in me to fight against that, especially if I would have a greater chance of being sorely disappointed than I have of being overjoyed.

Please don’t tell me how ‘wrong’ I am. I know my idea/reasoning/theory is flawed. I accept that. But, I repeat: if it ain’t happenin’ naturally, I won’t be having a baby.

So, just over a year and three months into the non-baby-making, baby-making project and we’ve figured one thing out, at least. Bear and I have discussed it thoroughly. Neither of us wants to know if there is something wrong, so we’ll just go with having sex and not taking contraception and see what happens. I’ll be happy if it happens. If it doesn’t … ? Fuck it. There are so many shittier things that could happen to me.

I’m still 4 days fucking late though. Let’s not forget about that. 

𝕊𝕚𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕖

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