My husband has been feeling a bit low lately. He realizes, as I do, that we need to make more money to afford our future children and that is just not happening. I can't help but feel like it is my fault he is sad. He would never feel this way if it weren't for me.
Further, I have been up late, every night, wanting so badly to tell him about my fears of the doctor and why I have them. But I can't bring myself to do it. I know that it would be another blow to him.
I always feel like I am one big disappointment. That there is nothing that I can quite do well enough to make up for what I cannot do. Like I shovel dirt into the sky trying to fill it and it just falls back down. This is why I cook and it must be perfect. Why at work I must be the best, THE BEST, at my job. Why in school and A- is a reason to retake a class to maintain a 4.0. It is why I am so meticulous in everything I do. Still, I feel like it is never good enough. I get teased about it, like it is endearing that I am such an over achiever. That darn girl, always spinning her wheels.
I suppose I will never feel whole. Part of me will always hate that I never got to hold a baby in my womb. Part of me will always feel guilty that I put my spouse through something that should not be his burden. My absent womb makes my stomach look pregnant with fat, my teeth too crooked, my thighs too wide. It makes me ugly. A shell of a woman. What a fancy costume.
No comments:
Post a Comment