Let me just start by saying, I'm writing this entry for myself. Free therapy. Lord knows retail therapy and real "me time" just aren't on the menu these days. And I have other entries about my sweet baby and our lives lately that I do plan on getting to but I need to get this out of my head.
So a week ago I went to the bathroom and thought my period was starting. It made so much sense. The cravings for chocolate, the odd clinginess to Hartley, and the insomnia - total Page PMS right there. And now a teeny bit of spotting. Had to be a period.
And before I could even wait to watch it progress in to a full period, I began mentally noting that day as "cycle day one". I began counting out my fertile window as if pregnancy had "fixed" me. And I began to think about when we needed to get busy and figuring out if I could manage sneakily taking Hartley to Giant to buy a bottle of champagne to surprise Brian when the first day of the fertile window arrived. I thought about when I'd be due and how my old maternity clothes would fit and coordinate the same with seasons so I wouldn't need new pieces. And I thought, "Irish twins are going to be tough but totally adorable."
Then I thought, "what the hell am I thinking? Do I even want a second child?! Why am I thinking about getting pregnant? I hated pregnancy!" I wanted to extract my brain, scrub it clean of these thoughts, pop it back in, and continue life as a mom of one, who has always said, "one and done." But that beautiful idea of spontaneous pregnancy was too hard to shake. That amazing surprise of peeing on a stick and learning about Hartley's sibling without the help of science was just too idyllic. And I couldn't help falling in love with it.
A few hours later, the spotting was gone, and I realized a period wasn't coming. My left ovary began to throb and ache, and it's feeling I know well. My old friends - cysts. One that would likely rupture, hurt like a bitch, and I'd pray it was ovulation pain. And I remembered that just because I had Hartley doesn't mean I'm now a baby making machine.
Well, today I think my period is actually starting. I'm not 100% sure yet but I'm thinking it is. Same chocolate cravings and moodiness and insomnia but this time a little heavier spotting. And I'm starting to count out cycle days again. I was snuggling Hartley and daydreaming, would it be a brother or a sister I'd give her. Then I just started crying, and my tears rolled off my cheek into her wispy baby hair. I breathed in her smell and kissed the top of her head and wondered what was wrong with me.
I feel like a crazy person. I don't understand why I'm thinking the things I'm thinking. I don't know why I'm thinking about my fertility. I have her. I don't need anything else. I just don't remember living my life without always knowing what cycle day it was. And I don't know why having a baby makes me think I'm fertile. I don't know why I think I'm going to be magically fixed. I have no idea why I'm thinking about the logistics of the second baby in this house, and how we're going to make our space work. I have no idea why I wonder what her "twins" are like - the leftover embryos from her litter.
I want to see her have a sibling. I wish she could have a sister so she could grow up how Laura and I did. Matching outfits, telling secrets, dying each other's hair, fighting, shopping and being best friends. I wish she could have a brother so she could have what I had with Andrew - not only a buddy but a protector. I don't even think I'm strong enough to be a mother of 3 to give her all that. I don't think I'm fertile enough for that. And lord knows, we're not exactly living in a house equipped for this giant Crane clan I'm daydreaming of.
So I sit here, in my pajamas, slightly overwhelmed by the one baby I have now and wonder if I'm crazy. What's wrong with me for thinking like this. If these are hormones, can they settle down? Or have I officially gone off the reservation and become a crazy person?
Whew, feels good to get it off my chest though.
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