So, 18 dpo, here I am at another cd1. It’s incontrovertible this time. (Thanks for the help in figuring it out!!!) My bbt was 97.3 this morning (my coverline is at 97.6); I stuck in another tampon and sat down to work on final papers. I could feel the cramping and familiar sensations of cd1. Twice between paragraphs I just started crying. I can’t actually find words to describe this peculiar pain, but you all know what I mean, unfortunately. I’m sad that this is how we found each other, because of our common pain, but I am also grateful for the forum.
I think part of the pain this time around is knowing that in 2 weeks I’m going to be spending mother’s day with my mom and grandmother, and it had crossed my mind how sweet it would be to tell my mom about a pregnancy. I know she has been praying for this for me for years. Yet some of the reasons I postponed parenting had to do with her; we have a pretty good relationship, but when I look at how she and my sister have been hurting one another for years and years it really makes me think twice. Sometimes I look at pictures of women holding little babies, and I imagine the adult looking at that picture of his/her own infancy, and thinking back to the sweetness and innocence and love of that moment, and contemplating the intervening years of pain and sorrow, resentments, conflicts, rifts and ruptures. We who work so hard to become parents, we have to hope and dream of the positive possibilities, but for some reason I sometimes find myself thinking about the possibilities for sorrow.
The year before I started ttc, my in-laws also found themselves in a profoundly painful conflict with T’s sister. I’ve really tried to stay out of it, but it also informed my decision at the time to postpone parenting. Part of the appeal of babies is their innocence, how unmarked they are by the sorrows of this world, but nothing can keep them in that state.
Last night I went out with some girlfriends to see “The Last King of Scotland.” Amazing movie, quite well done of course, but so hard to watch at times because of the intense violence. Knowing that it was based on real events made it all the harder to watch. I kept telling myself “it’s not real, it’s not reall,” but I knew that even though the images I was seeing were artifice, that these things have really happened to real human beings, and still do. Human beings that were babies once upon a time. So why do I want to become a parent? And why does my inability to do so hurt so much?