Off the dome, mostly.
I’m in the last leg of my process before I try to implant an embryo into my uterus. My doctor has me on birth control as it’s supposed to regulate my hormones. I on the other hand, feel like my emotions are going haywire.
I’m incredibly anxious, upset, and angry all at the same time.
I cried today while texting one of my best friends:
Why didn’t I ever come across anyone who wanted to do this with me?
She responded with ALL THE RIGHT THINGS. Everything she typed was a fact and then some.
I agreed, agreed, and agreed with her some more, but now it’s 10pm and I’m still asking myself the same question.
You can say you’re proud of me, that I’m a strong AF, or that you admire WTF I’m attempting, and while I appreciate the kindness and words of affirmation—that’s all they are.
No one was there when I inserted the needles into my abdomen during IVF. No one was in the waiting room after I woke up from anesthesia after my eggs were retrieved. No one else will be there with me when my baby is inconsolable in the middle of the night. I’ve started a tally, that list is just going to get longer.
I know. I know I’m not really alone. I know I have the love and support of my family and friends. I know millions of people have been single parents since the beginning of time and I am nothing special. I know how blessed and privileged I am to even have this opportunity.
However it doesn’t mean I can avoid all the negative feelings about lacking a partner. And if we want to keep it a full 100, my ego is bruised. Why didn’t I come across anyone who wanted me to go half on genetics and an upbringing? Why didn’t anyone see my potential or just want that with me? And if they did… why wasn’t I ever worth acting on?
BTW no one has to answer that. I know it’s nonsense. Those were rhetorical questions. That’s what you call spiraling. It’s alright, I quickly recovered.
I guess I’m still mourning the finality of not having a baby daddy. I’m still closing that door.
Every tiny daydream I’ve had about someone being THAT DUDE just has to die. I have to let go of all those sweet rom-com like imaginations of sharing every pregnancy milestone with your person. I’ll never get a loving monologue from the father of my child as I’m giving birth in the delivery room. I have no one to send out for a food craving at exactly 1:45 in the morning when I can’t sleep. IDK Hollywood BS LIKE THAT.
I WON’T GET THAT.
AT. ALL.
Not even a little bit. Not even a tiny taste.
Being independent doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t want to be dependent. Most of the time it just means you have no one to depend on.
I just wish someone wanted to do half so I didn’t have to go whole.