Trying to be...
2003-07-20 - 12:40 p.m.
Trying to be realistic, balanced with optimistic.
Trying to be informed, without being overwhelmed.
Trying to be proactive, without being alarmist.
Its a lot of work, I tell you.
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This morning, waking up slowly, bathed in sunlight and the knowledge that we had no plans for the day. Leisurely coming to awareness, cuddled, cozy, comforted. Kisses rather than Stern on the radio, a far better way to start the day. Able to linger on body parts, getting reaquainted after his absence.
Whispers and snuggles after sex are the best. This morning's were both adorable and bitter sweet.
"Do you think we just made a baby?" he softly speaks into my ear.
"I hope so sweetie..I really hope so".
This is so hard. We talk about these things often, though often I am the one who brings it up. But this morning it was him...and its become apparant how hard this is on him as well as me; as well as "us".
So we talk...we talk about optimism. We talk about hope. We rub my belly and say sweet things, and assure each other that maybe this *will* be the time.
Then we talk about reality. That these symptoms are real. That since I've lost weight, my hormones have been out of whack. Should I not have lost the weight? No, that's not the answer. But somehow when I was heavier, my body was in better balance. My overall health was worse, my cardiovascular health was worse, my self-esteem was worse, but my hormones, those were in better balance. Now I'm back to where I was when I was a teenager - back when the solution was "put her on birth control!" even though I was not yet sexually active.
He whispers again "Maybe its me. Maybe I need to be tested".
And as he is so good at comforting me when I accept the blame, I turn the tables and give him the comfort he needs.
The reality is, its neither of our "fault". But the added reality is that we need to get our shit together and start getting tested.
And if there is something truly wrong - we talk some more about the "what if's". We talk about adopting. I say "if we do adopt, I want a baby. I really really want a baby". I'm not concerned about ethnicity. I'm not concerned about race, geography, gender. I'm not even concerned about disability. But I do want a baby. I want a child who I will watch grow - from infancy to adulthood.
And there, in our comfy bed, with the sunlight streaming in, we continue to bare our souls, our dreams, our future.
He says "but really, maybe this time *was* it!"
I say "I hope so sweetie. An April baby would be nice, wouldn't it?"
