9/29/2005

Pod person

Help. me. Help. meeeeeeeeee. (said in the tiny, squeaking voice of The Fly). I'm turning into one of THEM.

Throughout this infertility journey...nay, mindfuck (I call it like I see it folks), I have taken great pride in the fact that I have not sacrificed my lifelong ambivalence and general dislike of children. I have not allowed myself to become all gooey and sentimental at the mere sight of a swollen belly or a gurgling infant. It's not who I am, and three long old years of infertility have only slightly weakened my resistance to all things children.

However, during my recent meltdown I had a moment of clarity. I came to the realisation that I do in fact want a child. I don't want someone's else child, so the random stranger pushing a pram down the street can keep her screaming brat without making me wistful. I was stressing about my paper, work, and every other little thing in my life, and it dawned on me that all of that paled in comparison to my desire to have a child. Given that I'm 27 and already staring down the barrel at IVF it may not be a biological child, but I'm fine with that. Cynical, embittered, innapropriate sense of humour-having, me.

I know it seems like a foregone conclusion that someone with an infertility blog would want a child. I am an enigma people, you should know that by now. In all the time that I have been attempting to get pregnant I haven't actually acknowledged that I *could* get pregnant and that it *could* lead to a real, live, breathing human being. Because of that denial, I haven't actually confronted the idea of being a mother. Now that I have realised that this appears to be the most important objective in my life at the moment, I'm forced to confront the fact that jesus...I might genuinely want one of these baby things. You know, to mother. Mind-boggling stuff.

Tune in next week, when my rapid descent into corniness finds me showering you all with babydust, buying dozens of Anne Geddes prints to plaster on the walls of the flat about which I will screech, "Oh isn't that just DARLING?" Consider yourselves warned.

10 comments:

Molly said...

First fucking speck of baby dust and I'm out of here, Pru.

(And is anyone else incredibly disturbed by Anne Geddes?)

Also -- congrats, Mom.

And lastly, my word verification word sounds like a Tolkien elf's name -- "Awnveviw."

MC said...

Anne Geddes stuff really shits me. What shits me more is people who go and get photos done in that style of their own children. Then they insist on showing you or have them all over their house.

I have never been hugely maternal, as in picking up babies, gooing and garing over them, even before IF. But I desperately want my own, it colours everything in my life.

Manuela said...

Ditto Molly! Don't even SUGGEST that the mention of babydust has the potential to induce any reaction other than a curl of the lip and a low-throated growl of warning... You are my BASTION of cynicism... don't you dare cross over to the light side!

Jenn said...

If you buy any Anne Geddes I am never talking to you again.

During my last pregnancy, during that brief time we thought we'd have a baby, I remember freaking out and thinking, "We were just trying to get pregnant, not have kids!"

I'm not one to get all gooey over babies either.

mm said...

You start babydusting, I'll start ending every comment with (((((((hugs))))))). Stop now and no one gets hurt, aiiight?

Yeah, every so often it hits me that I'm going through this IVF hell because I actually want a baby. (Well, that and I just plain enjoy showing my naughty bits to random strangers with ultrasound wands.) Why this always comes as a surprise, I have no idea.

cat said...

Reading your post I'm thinking who the fuck is Anne Geddes. Googling her produced the full on freak show. Thanks... now I'm gonna have nightmares about babies sprouting butterfly wings and growing out of flowerpots... That's some really disturbing shit.

I never wanted kids until we lost three so don't feel bad. *cheesy internet hug*

tania said...

The maternal instinct is a bit odd, isn't it?

I think it often starts out kind of like going to college - you don't necessarily have a burning desire to go to college for any specific reason other than the fact that it's the next step. But of course deep down there is a reason you're doing it.

And when you're going through IF, you get so caught up in the porcedures and the steps, it's very easy to forget exactly what the end goal is, while at the same time constantly obsessing over it. And while you're doing that, other peoples' kids are just plain unappealing.

K said...

I will admit - I once owned an Anne Geddes calendar. But, in my defense, I did not buy it and I was a teenager. I must now hang my head in shame...

Lori said...

That Anne Geddes crap is freaky. I don't know what mothers fork their kids over to that crazy lady.
I've never been one to coo over babies an all things maternal. I'll get excited about my friend's kids but that's where I draw the line (even before we couldn't rustle up one of our own) And I still haven't come to terms with the whole getting pregnant thing actually leading to a baby. Since my pregnancy didn't actually lead to a baby, I'm not convinced I'm really in denial.

Alex/Infertile Gourmet said...

I have to admit that I have not really ever been a gusher on children. Never. In fact...looking around for the mob police....sometimes I think they are downright not cute. Ugly in hushed tones.

Baby dusting should be banned by the AMA and FDA as it has not been tested and seems to be quakery. I personally hate it with a passion. So along with your other posters I will be out of here if there is any mention of this. Having said that let me move on to the next comment...

I like Anne Geddes. (Ducking head as tomatoes are thrown) Please do not hate me. Mostly I like the pregnant women not the babies because I was a midwife in my former life and love birth and pregnancy.

A strange occurence happened recently. I gushed over a baby in my mind. It scared the crap out of me. Instantly I had visions of moving to the county, buying a minivan and some plastic playhouses. A nightmare...