I Want a Baby: The Crazy Edition

(http://sweet-and-lowdown.tumblr.com/post/3356787912)

I want a baby. To give you what you need. To conquer that which has held me down for nearing two decades. To stop defining myself as worthless, ugly, fat, angry, depressed, wayward, dramatic, doomed. To let my demon go. To let this ugly little girl grow into a woman and forget what created her.

I want a baby to give us a family. To stop the sad looks from my family. To answer the unspoken question of yours. To stop the incessant pestering of when am I going to have a baby. To stop the lie I tell that I don’t want one.

I want a baby to prove that I can do what I think I cannot. To stop feeling mad at my luck or destiny or God or whatever force I feel like blaming it on when I get too depressed.

I want a baby to give it a name. To forget my importance. To have something to share other than cookies and nerdisms. To give me depth that is impossible to have without.

I want a baby. Even though my reasons are bad. Even though I don’t deserve one. Even though it would be hard. Even though I will probably be a bad mother.

I want a baby to release the obsession. To find my heart again and cry at movies and relate to women. I want a baby to grow into a better person. To learn and expand my abilities. I want a baby to accomplish something I know I cannot.

I want a baby so I can hold them again. So I can stop the façade that I don’t like kids. So I don’t nearly cry when you hold yours or talk about them with that gleam in your eye. So I can play with them without a dagger in my heart. So I can watch eyes light up when I first make them laugh, or hear music, or feel sand between their little toes.

Even though my reasons are bad. I want a baby. I don’t want to long for one. I don’t want to delay. I don’t want to have patience. I don’t want to spend all I have to have a baby I can’t afford. I don’t want to adopt one that has issues I cannot fix. I don’t want to put all I have and to wind up where I am now but without anything left. I don’t want to fail. And fail. And fail. And die. And die. And die.

I want a baby so I can cry like this over their worries, and not my selfish desires.

So I can stop trying to be a woman and start being me. So I don’t have to lose sleep every night and tell people I just don’t need that much sleep. So I don’t have to pretend I am happy. So I can be intimate. So I don’t have to get so low I think about crashing the car. So I can think that I can offer happiness to those I disappoint. So I don’t feel like life will always be as empty as the next adventure. The next distraction.  So I don’t have to plan things to keep me going and excited for just one more month.


I want a baby, so I don't think about how good it would be for you that I die an early death.  So I don't wonder how long until you leave me and if it will be because I can't give you a child, or because of my insanity in that.

Hiding

I have other blogs.  One for my family, one for my eating disorder, and now, ultimately, one for the root of my eating disorder.  Chances are, if you are reading this blog, you already know what MRKH is.  I have lived with this secret, that I have MRKH, that I cannot get pregnant, ever since I was 14.  This blog is a way of coming out--and I am coming out to strangers . . . under an alias.  I still hide.  Why?  I need to let it out, I need to be me, and accept how others will perceive me.  But I just haven't arrived at the ability to do that.  Even as I write this, I am concerned that if any adoption agencies, or surrogacy agencies ever read this, they would deny me a child.  Because, what is to follow are all my secrets.  All my lashing outs. What will be here is how a woman thinks when she has lived with MRKH and infertility for so long.  Though, these words would never escape my lips.