I’m exhausted. My partner is exhausted. We’re both just drained, and all from one conversation.
After the appointment at Repro Psych, I admit I totally shut down and wasn’t really communicating all that well. I took my partner’s earlier request that “baby talk” didn’t take over our lives to heart and instead, said nothing. Plus, it was my birthday and I didn’t want to think about pregnancy, medication, surrogacy, adoption, or childlessness. But in the back of my mind, it never went away. It never does.
My partner… let’s call her “D” for simplicities sake… wanted answers. Is being pregnant and carrying my own child more important that parenting a child? I threw around an answer in my head, but never verbalized it until last night.
I see pregnancy and actually “obtaining” a child as two very separate things (obtaining is such a horrible word, but I guess “having” a child may suggest actually birthing one). My hormones are crazy; the intensity of these urges that seem to jump out of my empty womb are ridiculously hard to ignore. Biology is of course part of that… D has never in her life had an urge anywhere close to that, and I don’t expect her to understand. I just wish she could sometimes.
I want contact with my unborn child. I want it to be completely dependent on me. I want to make an attachment with something that is growing inside of me. I want to hold out the baby when it is born and say “look what I made.”
When surrogacy was brought up as an option, at first I thought it would be my second choice (if we had the money). But now that I’ve been thinking of it – it’s not the genetics. I don’t actually care – at this moment at least – about whether I’m genetically linked to my child. I don’t want someone else to grow my child inside of them. I fear if we go that route, my need (and I really do think of it as a NEED) to carry a baby will not be fulfilled.
Maybe it will be option #3.
And then there is adoption. If we were to adopt, I would want a newborn. D told me that she is sad that we don’t agree on adoption. She would be happy to raise an older child – give a child a chance after adversities that he or she has had to face, and welcome them into a healthy, happy home. I would love to say that I’m that woman who could and would do that. But I’m not.
This isn’t altruistic, this is selfish.
And all I can think about is how shitty it is that I can’t get all I’ve ever wanted, because a) I’m a lesbian, b) I’m crazy, c) I have chronic pain issues, and d) D and I can’t agree on what our lives are going to look like.
She ended the conversation with “Maybe I don’t even want a kid.” I looked at the floor, I imagined us in our 50s and 60s without child, and I realized that that life may be exactly the life we’re heading for…