babies

baby 057

These days I feel at my saddest when I think about babies.

For me, being pregnant sucked … I was so sick for the first 4.5 months and then I was one big bundle of heartburn after that.  During the course of my pregnancy J cheated on me, we got married, and then moved to another state.  He was drunk all the time and after years of talking about how psyched he was to become a father, he didn’t have any interest in the pregnancy.  He never even read the damn baby books I got him.

And now that Darwin’s here J’s better, but it took a good long while.  For the first seven months of Darwin’s life J was drunk and not present at all.  I spent all my time being terrified and horrified and sad beyond belief.  It’s not just that I was suffering from post-partum depression, which I definitely was.  It’s that I believed the person I chose to have a baby with would actually be available to me, would be interested in being a parent, and would take the entire thing seriously.  I wanted Darwin’s existence to be the catalyst for the change that I always wanted to see in J.

As it ended up, it took more than just Darwin’s existence.  It took me telling J that he either had to stop drinking or move out.  And then it took a whole bunch of time and fights and trial and error.  Now, at least, J is present, and starting to turn into a father.  He and I disagree quite drastically on how a lot of this should be done, and he still hasn’t read a single fucking book, but he’s at least available in the fathering realm.

But I am not even vaguely over what happened during the pregnancy and the first seven months of Darwin’s life.  Most of the time I don’t even let myself think about it, because I believe that dwelling on it would simply mean the end of any love or good feelings that I have for J.  Nobody should ever have to deal with what I had to deal with, and the fact that he’s the one who put me through it makes me furious.  Of course, I’m also furious with myself for not doing anything about it.

Anyway.  Long story short, I am not going to have another child with this man.  I don’t trust him enough to do that.  I should have known enough not to trust him in the first place, but I was stupid.  It ain’t going to happen again.

But oh my lord, do I want another child.  I want to experience pregnancy and labor and infancy under good circumstances.  I want to know what it feels like to just be able to enjoy it all, without constantly being so sad that I can barely breathe.  I want to know what it’s like to go through the whole process WITH someone, instead of on my own.  I keep thinking about how different it all could have been if I’d had someone who was there, who was interested, who was supportive.  If I’d had someone to encourage me to go to yoga and eat well and walk a mile everyday.

And now so many of my friends are pregnant or trying to get pregnant or, in the case of A, in labor even as we speak!  The sin I am always the most guilty of is envy and right now is no exception.  I am jealous of everyone else who is starting out on this journey under good circumstances, with support and love and a partner who’s there for them.  I can’t help it … it just makes my chest ache with the wish that I was them.

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