BABYPALOOZA
Awwwww. Spring is here. The weather is beautiful, everything's in bloom, and it is officially Babypalooza. Seriously, Babypalooza. Three of my good friends have had first, second and third babies since I left Washington, another friend is due in a couple of weeks, and then I brought the baby phermones from Washington to Charlotte. My best friend out here is rapidly approaching her fourth month and then I learned today that another good friend out here is pregnant. In addition to these two, two other old friends are expecting. I am beyond thrilled for my friends, both those who recently had theirs and those who will be having them later this year. It makes me so excited and happy and reminds me just how amazing life is and how crazy it is that our bodies can do this. And at the same time, as I sat with my two pregnant friends today, my uterus felt extremely lonely. I told them I was going to work on gaining weight so my belly would fit in.
Why in the midst of all this happiness, does this make me so sad? I came home all excited from the news, sat down and bawled. As I cried, I sat there wondering what the hell was wrong with me? I'm seriously trying to blame hormones on this one, as I'm about to get my period and know I get even more emotional around this time. But honestly, despite the happiness and joy I can't help but take a look at myself and my life and wonder if this will ever be a part of mine?
I know I probably write about this a bit too much, but since I turned 35 (the magical "your chances are going downhill" age), I can't help but feel sad about it somewhat. For some reason it reminds me of when I turned 25 and completely freaked out. At 25 I was wondering what I was doing with my life, was about to get married, questioning whether that was right at that time (it wasn't), whether I wanted to hang onto my freedom, what I wanted to be doing career-wise, trying to figure out where I wanted to settle down, etc. In the almost twelve years since then, those questions have answered themselves through my own experience, though with impatience. I shouldn't have married, but did and while a painful experience, it was one of the greatest learning experiences of my life. And that was a major stepping stone to having the relationship I have now. I had a great career at 25 and walked away from it for a job in an industry I loved that I later walked away from too. I realized over the years that I'm really not into the "career" thing, but simply want to have a stress-less job that pays the bills and allows me to come home and not worry about work, which I have. I moved, moved back home, moved again and again, moved back home, and then moved again, then back home, and now am here in a city that I love that finally feels like a new home to me. The questions took a while to be answered, but they were.
Now I sit here feeling that panic again. I'm very much in love with whom I feel is the man I'm going to spend my life with, yet I struggle with not running away every time I get scared or angry. I'm a master at running away. I struggle with conflict. I am great at addressing it with most people, but with the one I love I struggle. I have spent most of my life leaving that conflict rather than dealing with it when things get rough. It's difficult, but my god I'm going to conquer this affliction with running away. I feel like I've figured so many things out in my life, yet know I still have a lot of growing up to do. I feel like this person that I'm with, whom I love more than I thought I could, is worth figuring it out for. And then when I feel like I have a grasp on who I am and feel content with what will be, I become a guest at Babypalooza. It's no one's fault, but my retarded hormones, biological clock, or withering ovaries or whatever it is. I'm sincerely happy and ecstatic for my friends. I'm an Auntie over and over and over, and I love it. I love those kids, and I know I will love the kids that I'll meet upon my visit to Seattle who were born after I left. My life is full with my boyfriend, my family and my niece, Pete's family, and my friends and their kids. It's a good life when I really look at the picture from a distance, but then I am overwhelmed with this sadness that there isn't more. Am I glutton for always wanting more or what I don't have? Or am I just a woman experiencing the almost chemical need to reproduce? I never thought growing up that I would end up without a child of my own, yet I am rapidly approaching being that person. I started convincing myself long ago that I was not someone who needed or wanted that, yet in my heart I always knew I did. And now that I'm with someone whom I would want that with someday, I find myself questioning whether that will or even could, happen. I want our time together. He is younger than me and not ready. Hell, I'm not ready for that yet. Yet, I feel this absence, this sadness, that my life may not include a little one someday. And it breaks my heart.
I'm not sending this one out. It's more for me, as I sit here bubbling with emotion and desperately needed for it to leave my body. Should you read it, fine. Should you skip it, even better. This one's for me. This one's for no one, but me.
Why in the midst of all this happiness, does this make me so sad? I came home all excited from the news, sat down and bawled. As I cried, I sat there wondering what the hell was wrong with me? I'm seriously trying to blame hormones on this one, as I'm about to get my period and know I get even more emotional around this time. But honestly, despite the happiness and joy I can't help but take a look at myself and my life and wonder if this will ever be a part of mine?
I know I probably write about this a bit too much, but since I turned 35 (the magical "your chances are going downhill" age), I can't help but feel sad about it somewhat. For some reason it reminds me of when I turned 25 and completely freaked out. At 25 I was wondering what I was doing with my life, was about to get married, questioning whether that was right at that time (it wasn't), whether I wanted to hang onto my freedom, what I wanted to be doing career-wise, trying to figure out where I wanted to settle down, etc. In the almost twelve years since then, those questions have answered themselves through my own experience, though with impatience. I shouldn't have married, but did and while a painful experience, it was one of the greatest learning experiences of my life. And that was a major stepping stone to having the relationship I have now. I had a great career at 25 and walked away from it for a job in an industry I loved that I later walked away from too. I realized over the years that I'm really not into the "career" thing, but simply want to have a stress-less job that pays the bills and allows me to come home and not worry about work, which I have. I moved, moved back home, moved again and again, moved back home, and then moved again, then back home, and now am here in a city that I love that finally feels like a new home to me. The questions took a while to be answered, but they were.
Now I sit here feeling that panic again. I'm very much in love with whom I feel is the man I'm going to spend my life with, yet I struggle with not running away every time I get scared or angry. I'm a master at running away. I struggle with conflict. I am great at addressing it with most people, but with the one I love I struggle. I have spent most of my life leaving that conflict rather than dealing with it when things get rough. It's difficult, but my god I'm going to conquer this affliction with running away. I feel like I've figured so many things out in my life, yet know I still have a lot of growing up to do. I feel like this person that I'm with, whom I love more than I thought I could, is worth figuring it out for. And then when I feel like I have a grasp on who I am and feel content with what will be, I become a guest at Babypalooza. It's no one's fault, but my retarded hormones, biological clock, or withering ovaries or whatever it is. I'm sincerely happy and ecstatic for my friends. I'm an Auntie over and over and over, and I love it. I love those kids, and I know I will love the kids that I'll meet upon my visit to Seattle who were born after I left. My life is full with my boyfriend, my family and my niece, Pete's family, and my friends and their kids. It's a good life when I really look at the picture from a distance, but then I am overwhelmed with this sadness that there isn't more. Am I glutton for always wanting more or what I don't have? Or am I just a woman experiencing the almost chemical need to reproduce? I never thought growing up that I would end up without a child of my own, yet I am rapidly approaching being that person. I started convincing myself long ago that I was not someone who needed or wanted that, yet in my heart I always knew I did. And now that I'm with someone whom I would want that with someday, I find myself questioning whether that will or even could, happen. I want our time together. He is younger than me and not ready. Hell, I'm not ready for that yet. Yet, I feel this absence, this sadness, that my life may not include a little one someday. And it breaks my heart.
I'm not sending this one out. It's more for me, as I sit here bubbling with emotion and desperately needed for it to leave my body. Should you read it, fine. Should you skip it, even better. This one's for me. This one's for no one, but me.
