Wantin' Ain't Gettin'

August 1, 2002

First a bit of housekeeping.

1. Thank you to my husband for yesterday's gratuitous link. A few of you now know I'm updating again.

2. I've created a notify list. A big shout out to Amanda for a) her nice e-mail to me, and b) her handy listie of notify lists. I was going to go with Notify Fu, just cuz I like the name, but Fu and I didn't click (no pun intended), so I went with something a bit more straightforward: Notifylist.com. So don't be shy, sign up today. Oh, and a shout out to Chuck for putting the html code on my index page since my journal putting together skills are SERIOUSLY rusty.

Have you ever wanted something for a really long time? I mean really wanted something. Pined away for wanted. Feel it in every fiber of your body wanted. Know that in a fair and just world you'd have that thing you wanted. Because you deserve it. Because you just want it to badly that by all rights you should have it. Wanted it so badly it hurts.

Then one day you decide, for any number of reasons, that maybe you don't really want it anymore. Logically you don't want it because you know that it's the wrong time, or the moment has passed, or because your life has changed so much that you know it's not the right thing.

But emotionally you just can't let go. Then you're afraid you might get it.

For me, it's the baby thing.

My daughter Zoe is the most wonderful, caring, kind, beautiful, thoughtful child a parent could hope to have. She's funny. She's a pleasure to be around. With each age and stage I say to myself, "this one's my favorite." I look forward to spending time with her. She's all I could have ever hoped for, and more.

But I never pictured myself the parent of an only child.

I knew, KNEW, in my heart that I would have two children. Both girls. Wanted two girls. Wanted with ever fiber of my being. But that is not to be.

Now, at 42, I'm pretty OK with the only child thing. Almost all the time.

But sometimes I guess I'm not. It's not that I'm bitter, I don't think. OK, if you know me and think I'm bitter, don't feel compelled to correct me on this, alright. My daughter is six. She walks, talks, dresses herself, articulates her thoughts. For Pete's sake, when she has a boo boo she gets her own Band-Aids. Why would I want to go back to diapers, sleep deprivation, guessing what hurts or doesn't feel good?

When she was three or four, Zoe used to ask me and Chuck when she was going to have a baby brother or sister. We'd skirt the issue. Then just last week she volunteered to my sister that she doesn't want any brothers or sisters because she doesn't want to have to share her mommy and daddy.

I'm happy for other women who are pregnant. I always wish for expectant mothers that their child is the delight mine is. But sometimes there's still the ache. The wanting rears its ugly head. I keep it to myself, but it aches.

When my sister in law was pregnant with her third child in three years no one wanted to tell me. They didn't want to hurt my feelings. OK, it wasn't everyone. It was my mother in law. She told me that she was afraid I'd be upset. Now not telling me like I was some pathetic barren somethingorother hurt me, but the fact that my sister in law was pregnant didn't hurt me. OK, it kind of disgusted me since she didn't exactly take care of the two children she already had at that point, but that's a story for another time.

Then I found out today that my former boss, the Queen of Pain, is pregnant. She's 40. Her son just turned 10. She left my current company about two years ago. Since then, she's divorced her husband and is having a baby with some guy she used to go out with. Here's the thing: She never wanted more children. I hear she's happy about her impending arrival, and I'm as happy for her as I can be. But that's not about the baby, it's about the fact that she was a bitter, angry bitch who treated me unspeakably badly, mostly because I'm a woman and she perceived me as competition.

Anyway, it's a baby thing for me.

Last month my period was late. About a week and a half late. I'm never late. Chuck was away. I didn't tell him I was late. I didn't tell anyone. I spent five days going through all the possibilities. A new baby. What would I do? How would we afford it? We've finally got a level of independence again. Zoe is highly mobile and flexible. With a new baby that would come to a screaching halt again. I'm 42. I'd be 43 when it was born, 60 when this kid graduated from high school. I always felt sorry for the kids with the "old" moms. I would be an old mom. I spent five days freaking out and obsessing until I bit the bullet and got a home pregnancy test. Those post-pee five minutes were the longest five minutes I've spent in a long time.

It was negative. I cried. I got my period the next day.

Until next time...