The number one question doctors, nurses, and pharmacists have to ask when diagnosing a female patient is....
Ugh.
Now I can not even begin to imagine how much this question cuts those who have been actively trying for years to no avail. But I can say for me, the question hits me like a blow to the stomach every single time. I was never the girl who dreamed of being a mother. I feared motherhood and how it would impede my independence and effect my career. But with P, suddenly my biology began to yearn for a baby, his baby. Still, I wasn't ready. On our honeymoon P told me frankly that he wanted to be a dad before he turned forty or not at all. He 'didn't want to be an old dad'. Having a deadline (before thirty for me) was scary, and I dug my heels in further, stating adamantly that I got 'to decide when we started trying because it was my body and I would have to do the 2am feedings, be a stay at home mom for the first few years, and do most of the rearing during that time!' (sorry guys, I know it's not this way for ALL couples but this was the argument for us then)
Moments after P was diagnosed I began secretly hoping that I might be pregnant. Knowing it wasn't really possible, I started planning when we could proceed with IVF (our only remaining option after chemo began). I even thought that between treatments I might want to broach the topic with him. I was desperate for P to be a father, and equally, to be the mother of his child. I didn't want him to leave this earth without having experienced that joy. He didn't let others know how badly he yearned to be a dad. But I knew. I could read between the lines, and I could see it in his eyes.
So every time someone asks me that question I want to scream 'I should be!' I should be a mother! Last week I turned 28. If P had got his way we would have started trying this year or next if it all hadn't gone so wrong. And that's when I realised, each year will mark a time in our plans when we should've been doing this or that. Each holiday I take that I know he'd enjoy or we'd planned on doing together, will hurt. I was asked by a new friend during my rehearsals last week if I missed him every day.
'Could you be pregnant?'
Ugh.
Now I can not even begin to imagine how much this question cuts those who have been actively trying for years to no avail. But I can say for me, the question hits me like a blow to the stomach every single time. I was never the girl who dreamed of being a mother. I feared motherhood and how it would impede my independence and effect my career. But with P, suddenly my biology began to yearn for a baby, his baby. Still, I wasn't ready. On our honeymoon P told me frankly that he wanted to be a dad before he turned forty or not at all. He 'didn't want to be an old dad'. Having a deadline (before thirty for me) was scary, and I dug my heels in further, stating adamantly that I got 'to decide when we started trying because it was my body and I would have to do the 2am feedings, be a stay at home mom for the first few years, and do most of the rearing during that time!' (sorry guys, I know it's not this way for ALL couples but this was the argument for us then)
Moments after P was diagnosed I began secretly hoping that I might be pregnant. Knowing it wasn't really possible, I started planning when we could proceed with IVF (our only remaining option after chemo began). I even thought that between treatments I might want to broach the topic with him. I was desperate for P to be a father, and equally, to be the mother of his child. I didn't want him to leave this earth without having experienced that joy. He didn't let others know how badly he yearned to be a dad. But I knew. I could read between the lines, and I could see it in his eyes.
So every time someone asks me that question I want to scream 'I should be!' I should be a mother! Last week I turned 28. If P had got his way we would have started trying this year or next if it all hadn't gone so wrong. And that's when I realised, each year will mark a time in our plans when we should've been doing this or that. Each holiday I take that I know he'd enjoy or we'd planned on doing together, will hurt. I was asked by a new friend during my rehearsals last week if I missed him every day.
Yes. Every. Single. Day.
I could choose to bore you with all the tiny little things that remind me of him, but I'll just give you a few examples. Driving his car. Every time I sit in the seat I think, 'this was your seat. You should be driving.' Sometimes I lean on the hand brake like he used to and today as I moved to take off, I heard my coat make the noise his used to. Poached eggs. I can't make them half as well as he could and every time I attempt I wish he was here to make it for me. Tea. He made the best cup of tea. The list could go on and on. But right now, it's that question that makes me ache. It makes me angry and sad, and leaves me feeling hollow. It makes me want to reply 'don't you know my husband's dead? don't you know what I've been through this past year?' But of course they don't know. How could they? Sometimes I wish I could wear a sign, or sport a tattoo just so I wouldn't have to explain.
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