stop giving me choices…

i think i may well have written this or something like it about a dozen times in the last 8 or 9 years.

that may not seem excessive, but when i add to that the fact that it’s running aound in my head pretty much every day, it gets repetitive.

almost everyone i know has found their one, with relative ease it seems. they’re all settled & happy, which is wonderful.
but i’m that desperate woman in her 30’s who’s womb is a time bomb.

and i get it, i’m not the most captivating prospect. i’m difficult. i’m too old & dated too many fuckwits to put up with even the tiniest hint of bullshit.

i’m mental. really, properly mental. if you’re in any doubt scroll back through a few posts.

i’m covered in scars. literally covered in them. that’s not a hot look in anyone’s book. actually, i don’t think that’s really the issue with the scars. it’s what they signify rather than how they look. they’re scary. i get that.

this isn’t a oh no, i’m a pariah, no one loves me thing. i know i’m not repulsive. i can be pretty damn sexy & on my better days i’m a cool person.

that may be part of the problem. i know who i am
and i undeniably know what i want.

try as might, almost, just isn’t good enough.

i have gone out with a fair few lovely men. smart, attractive, funny blah, blah, blah
but
they don’t set my world alight
to be as cliched as fuck, there are no butterflies.

i’m lucky. i’m grateful.
i have extraordinary friends.
a close, loving family.
a bloody roof over my head.
i have a lot.
i know.

i want more.

folk are so supportive. they tell me how fantastic i am. how much i deserve my happy ending. i’m sure you’ve all heard this stuff at some point.
it’s never too late
there’s someone for everyone
you just haven’t met the right person.

of course the glaringly obvious point is, i have.
i have met him.
i’ve known him
&
laughed with him
&
fucked him
&
loved him
for years. for forever, really.

i know he’s the right man.
he’s an integral part of my life. a person who gets me through some really shitty times in his own undemonstrative way.
the only man i could realistically see myself being happy with
the only man who ever made me feel i was in movie love.
the only man who didn’t tire of my weirdness
and
matches me pound for pound with his own variety of odd.

my friend. my lover.
the man i can not have.

there’s that biological clock
&
it’s deafening.
the desire for a child is all encompassing
time is running out
i’ve spent too long being crazy
&
dating the wrong men
&
trying to be brave enough to try again.

there aren’t any years left to waste.
i have to get my life in order
and
do it.

that probably means i’ll be having a baby on my own
i suppose that should be terrifying
it isn’t
i’m not scared in the slighest
raising a child feels inherently right
i can not comprehend of a life in which i am not a mother

he can’t conceive a future in which he is father.

i can’t have both
we talk abstractly about what we’re giving up
if we’d met earlier
if we both weren’t so damaged
how happy we could be together.
if. if. if.
those conversations occupy my mind
sometimes.
they circle my thoughts before i fall asleep.
but
that circle isn’t never ending
i can not have both
that’s were this love story ends.

i’ve made my decision.
i believe it’s the right one
it’s not simple
or
painless
it is unequivocal.

i think i have always held romanitc notions of fate.
it never occured to me that destiny would be so cruel.
that’s life.
you roll your dice
you make your choices.

worth it….

one of my dearest friends gave birth yesterday
she brought a beautiful baby girl into the world
and
i’m so proud of her
i’m so happy for her
i’m so in love with that little girl already

but
i’m crying
when she told me she was in labour i felt a stab of pain so sharp
that it took my breath away
because i’m selfish
and jealous
and another person i love is getting everything I want

the thing is once i got my breath back
i prayed that her labour was easy
i prayed for them both to be safe
i was excited.
all i wanted was for them both to be healthy & happy.

when i saw her beautiful little face this afternoon
i cried happy tears
she’s perfect
and her mummy has done the bravest, hardest thing by bringing her into the world
i know how full of love her life is going to be
and
how wonderful her parents are.

we live on different continents
i can’t be there every day
but
i want nothing more than to be a part of this tiny new human’s life
i can’t wait to watch this family grow.

So, yes
i’m self-involved
and
yes, it hurts
but
the hurt isn’t a patch on the joy
idoesn’t touch the thrill of a new life
it cannot dull the pride
Nor dampen the adventure.

there will always be pain
and
it will always be worth it

the huge, expansive love
will never stop being worth it.

you took the life right out of me….

yesterday was the 14th anniversary of my due date.
that sentence scares me.
in 14yrs my loss hasn’t become any less painful.
nor do i feel any less alone with it.

each year I try to put plans in place
distraction.
it makes no difference
it always consumes me.

i can’t stop myself from thinking of the landmarks i’ve missed
last night i lay in bed wondering what it would be like to have a teenager sleeping across the hall
would we constantly battling?
would he hate me?
&
need me simultaneously
could i have raised a responsible young man all by myself?
i really think i could.

i think about first words & first steps
playing him the music I love
watching him discover his own musical tastes.
i daydream of trips to parks
sleepovers
fights about how late he is allowed to stay out.

every year is another milestone i don’t experience
another memory i can’t cherish
there is a gaping hole in my life
no
there is a huge hole in me
and
it echoes in everything i do.

with the build up to each anniversary
i hope someone will remember
i want so desperately for someone else to care about my boy
to imagine how he would have enriched our lives
it would mean so much if someone other than me acknowledged his short, short life.
for anyone to want to remember him.

of course, no one does
and
i don’t have the strength to keep reminding people
it’s just another day to them
no one wants to talk about miscarriage
i don’t think my boy is real to them.

so, i usually spend the day alone
often drinking
crying
piecing together what might have been.

T
this year feels worse
i am running out of time
lately, having a baby has been a continuous preoccupation
i need to be mum
i am a mum
i don’t know if this wound can ever be healed
but
hearing a tiny little person call me mummy would start the process.

i can’t replace my darling boy
he’ll always be with me
but
my arms are empty
&
my heart is so full.

 

 

Beyoncé Heartbeat

i’ve looked at life from both sides now…

i have written about my longing for children before.
i’ve known i want a family for a very long time. it has just never been possible.
i was too young
or
too sick
or
too single
i did always mostly believe it would happen.

that hope has been waning for a few years now.
i am 33 years old.
reproductively challenged
single
i have a history or mental & physical health problems
i am certainly not wealthy
the odds are stacked against me.

the desire does not lesson.
as everyone around me begins to start a family
(even those who didn’t think they wanted to)
i feel i am running out of time.
and
i’m scared.

i know i am just another woman with a ticking biological clock
nothing unique
or possibly even interesting in my situation.
the unoriginality of my problem does not diminish the pain.

i find myself increasingly obsessing over my options.
a solution has not presented itself.
i don’t want to imagine my life without little ones of my own
but
i can’t envisage a way to make my family happen.

i have no idea where this post is going
i’ve become so overwhelmed with the gap between my needs & my reality that it has just spilt out.
i am bursting with maternal instinct.
i’m ready.
i am so ready.

i know you care…

You’ll never read this. You will never know how much I love you. How much I would sacrifice for you will remain unsaid. It doesn’t mean it’s not real. Not saying it out loud won’t prevent me from going to sleep with thoughts of you every night. Even when I’m not alone, my last waking moments are filled with you.

I compare every man I encounter to you. They never meet the grade. I don’t know if you will ever stop being my measuring stick. It’s not because I consider you perfect. I see your faults. You drive me crazy. It doesn’t matter. I see you and you’re what I want.

It’s such a cliché, but I’ve never known anyone who made me feel the way you do. Every time you kiss me is as exciting as the first time. The slightest touch, that stern look, the sound of my name on your lips and I melt. And the sex, oh god, I will miss the sex. I never want you to stop talking. I will always want to know more. I devour your details. You make me feel like the me I used to love. I’m smarter & funnier & kinder & sexier in your company. When your eyes fall on me, I feel real. I feel like I am worth something. I’m not sure that you even know that. I wish I could find the words to tell you.

I hid all my dirty secrets from you, thinking you’d run. You never did. You accepted things you never wanted to and you haven’t held it against me. You know how truly fucked up I am, but you still see the whole picture. You’re there for me in quiet ways. You don’t send flowers or make a fuss. You know when I’m desperate. You know which two strokes of the keyboard can reach me. A genuinely nice man is hard to find, but you are. No matter how hard to try to hide it or shirk it, I know.

I’m pretty sure you see right through me & you’re not half as opaque as you believe you are. I could be happy with you. You don’t want to admit that you need anyone at all, but I’m almost certain you could be happy with me too. I don’t want anything much from you. All I’d need is for you to keep being odd & charming & difficult & honest. I’d do everything within my power not to hurt you. I’d never ask you to be anyone, but who you are. I don’t need you to slog away in a job that makes you miserable. Do whatever you like. I don’t want your money. I’d never ask you to take care of me in that way. I’m not that woman. You know that.

I know how futile this is. I am aware that none of this matters because there’s one obstacle we could never overcome. You do not want to be a father. Playing happy families is not for you. Sadly, if there’s one thing I want more than you, it’s a child. My heart pines for you, but every cell in my body aches for baby. It’s not your fault. You’ve never deceived me or given me false hope. I had oh so many opportunities to walk away.

I’ve tried. I really put myself out there. I’ve been on so many dates. Some of those were really cool guys. Men I saw again & tried to forge a relationship with. A couple of times I even started to consider being over you. It never lasted. Never worked. They’re never a match for you. I hold onto the hope that someone will sweep me off my feet & I will forget all about you. I wish he would hurry up because I can’t stop loving you on my own. My attempts have universally failed. At least part of me wishes for the mystical Mr right. The bigger part just drips in sadness at the thought of not being in love you. I’m still not ready to write you out of my happyily ever after.

If I can’t have you, I still want you to be happy. I want you to be loved by someone who can give you the life I can’t. I know you’ll meet someone. There is no way for me to prepare for that. It will tear me in two, but we can’t continue like this forever.

Just don’t let her shrink you. Don’t keep doing things that make you unhappy to please someone else. Don’t conform to her tastes. Please don’t let a woman tame you again. You don’t belong in a tight little box. That’s not love. You have edge. Always keep your edge.

I will never tell you that you are the love of my life. I will most likely never know exactly how you feel about me. That’s probably for the best because there is nothing you could say that would make it better. I know you care. That is enough.

beautiful, beautiful,beautiful boy …..

dear baby,

yesterday would have been your 11th birthday. i can hardly believe that is possible. i find myself wondering what we would be doing now. you would be starting secondary school. i can’t help think about which school that would be. i wonder if you would look like me. would you love your weird hippie mum or would i be an embarrassment. i wouldn’t mind either way. i’ll always love you. those are just a tiny sample of the millions of questions i have about you. i’m always imagining the life we didn’t get to live together. all the landmarks we’ve never reached and the everyday life we missed. 

i’m trying to learn how to remember you and still live this life that i have. i am trying to grieve for you. to feel sad, but not overwhelmed by your loss. i need you to know that i won’t ever leave you behind. you will always be part of my life. i will always be your mum. i hope i can find a way to cherish your short life and be at peace with you being gone. i want to live a better life. i’d like to be someone you can be proud of.

love always

mum