Empty Arms

“Why do you think it’s cute?  You don’t have kids.”  Easily some of the most unintentionally hurtful words I've heard directed at me about my lack of children…

I married at 27, confident that despite my husband wanting to finish college before we started a family, we’d easily have at least one baby, maybe two by the time I was 30.  Four months into our marriage it became much more complicated than that.  I had blood clots in my brain, and I survived, but there were so many hurdles to overcome now for pregnancy.

1. If I get pregnant, I’ll be a “high risk” pregnancy.

2. I’m on blood thinners permanently (forever, my entire life) and the chance of me getting pregnant on them is more slim and means that if I do get pregnant we have to switch the meds immediately or risk the baby.

3. I can’t take the medication I was taking to decrease/stop my endometriosis from building up and blocking me from even getting pregnant.

4. Later on we also learned I have a fibroid cyst, causing sometimes massive amounts of pain, and could also be causing pregnancy issues.

Now, I’m 32, almost 33.  I've seen my younger brother get married and have a baby that they weren't even trying for.  My older brother now has a son.  My friend has her second child.  My cousin’s wife is pregnant with their second child.  A good friend was married recently and within months they were pregnant with the baby they’re both eager for.

About eight months after my hospital visit we went through multiple doctors’ visits.  Was it still okay (read safe) for me to go through a pregnancy and we heard several different answers, but after a visit to a specialist, the answer was “yes”.  So, we tried for, I’m not sure how long anymore, months…a year or two and then we went back.  “So what’s wrong with us?”  Well, my husband’s perfectly fine, he could populate the entire US from what my doctor said.  My innards are apparently “fine”.  So we were left with nothing else to try unless we wanted to go for the big bucks and talk to real special people (read expensive).  And so we let asking why go...

Oh, and in there, for one short moment a few years ago I felt a thickening of my waist, just a little, just a bit.  Too scared to hope, I said nothing, but I felt changes in my body for a couple short weeks.  And then my period came, late and the most painful I've ever had, physically and emotionally.  I said nothing afterwards, how could I?  Of a hope that wasn't realized.

Five years later and I’m starting to not even feel anything anymore beyond numb.  When I was sixteen and dreaming of having kids someday, I wrote a letter to my son, asking what he’d be like, would he have my daddy’s eyes, or his daddy’s eyes, or, forbid, my eyes? Would he like sports or would he be into books, or maybe both?  Later on, after my father passed away, I wondered if I’d see echoes of my dad in my yet to be born son. 

My husband stopped tracking anything years ago, often only realizes the time of the month is close if I have my headache or need to run to the store.  He’s afraid to ask me how I am, doesn't know what to say to me.  I had to talk him into even wanting kids before we got engaged, because it was so important to me, and now we can’t.  He says he’s disappointed too, but I don’t see how, maybe he’s just trying to be really strong for me.  I’m not sure if it’s just something I railroaded him into in the first place, like the third dog I want.  Sometimes I want something so much; he wants it too, to make me happy.

I thought moving to Arizona would help (I do love Arizona and the sunshine) but it’s actually had the opposite effect.  In the last six months or so that I was in Oregon, I had kept so busy with family and friends; I didn't have time to think about anything.  I was playing aunt to my niece, and having fun with my cousins’ kids.  Now that I’m in Arizona, that’s gone, there’s this big, empty hole.  I’m sure I can fill it with my photography and writing and learning, among other things, but right now, only seven weeks into living in Arizona, that hole is wide open.

Some days I have good days, some days I have bad days, today happens to be one of those bad days.  Part of it may be that just over a year ago I was sitting at a table with two other women; both of whom also wanted children and were having a hard time with not being able to for various reasons.  Sunday I learned that one of them has had a healthy baby boy.  I am so happy and excited for them, but inside I cry, why not me too?  Wouldn't I make a good parent too?  Yes, I know one has nothing to do with the other, but it’s never logical, is it? 

Today, I will dry my tears and put on my happy face and go see a movie I’ve been wanting to see.  Hopefully the band aid won’t rip off for a long time this time.  Eventually, maybe I won’t even need it.  Someday…