Bill 64: The Public School Modernization Act is Racist

I don't really know how to write about this, but it has become more clear to me that I have to. Keeping it inside is causing all kinds of angst in my soul that has come to a bit of a head this holiday; a time when emotions tend to run high and coping skills are maxed out anyway.

It's hard to write about and talk about for a several reasons:
1. It's personal. So deeply deeply personal. But at some point, the personal private nature of it becomes a burden that only adds to the stress of the situation.
2. No one wants to hear about my sex life (nor do I really want to write about it), no matter how inadvertently. Especially considering a lot of my family members read this little blog (although I have not decided if I will post the link to fb - if I don't, traffic will be quite limited).
3. The last thing anyone wants is to be the object of pity. I also am not a huge fan of sympathy (bizarre, I know): it makes me cry, and I don't want to cry. I don't like being the center of attention. I would much rather talk about other people than talk about myself (is that a crazy thing to be saying for someone who is writing about this in a public forum? Fine line between putting things out there and saying 'LOOK AT ME!', maybe?)
4. I don't want to get into the nitty-gritty details of things...we'll leave it at this: I read a lot. 

How do you even start the topic? 'Trying' is a word often used, but it sets up a bit of a false impression that effort = results, which is not true.

We have been hoping to have a baby for over a year now. 14 months later, and nothing. In my darker moments, I think about the 5 month old that could have been, maybe. Sometimes I compare my friends' babies to my fictional ones and wonder what life would be like with a 6 week old, or 2 month old. I daydream OFTEN about not going to work and dealing with teenagers every day. A baby, even one that cries all night, seems preferable. (Although, the thought of going back to work with a 1 year old in daycare seems horrendous). I'm constantly doing the math of when a baby would be due, and what that would mean for my work-year (if it happens this month, I will probably be able to go back for 1 day and get a raise! Silver lining?).

The thing about this is that the stories of it being easy or happening quickly for people are so much more prevalent than the ones of it taking a long time or being a process fraught with stress and insecurity. I guess it's easier to talk about it going well than the opposite. When people don't talk about it being a long process, though, it creates a sense of deep loneliness for those of us for whom it is not 'easy'.

My female relatives (mother, grandmothers, aunts and cousins) have all seemed to have had babies more or less when they wanted them. One of my cousins has 5, another has 4. Not to say there haven't been losses or issues: my Oma's first children were twins who died a few days after they were born. But by and large, fertility issues are not present in the women in both of my families.

My most recurring thought returns to that there is something wrong with me, even though I know that it is not that simple, and nor is that necessarily a rational thought. They (whoever that is) say a year is the average amount of time to conceive a baby. When I'm really feeling depressed I make 'jokes' that since our niece was conceived on the first try, it's going to take us 2 years.

There are so many things that are terrifying about parenting: not sleeping, screwing up, wrecking your kid, being solely responsible for another life. Managing someone else's personality is probably the biggest one for me. Handling my own personality is enough some of the time, let alone Jake's. Adding another one seems like lunacy. This aspect of parenting is put in especially stark relief when every day you deal with 90+ kids who are at their arguably most volatile time in terms of their personality development.

There are also so many things about my life that are perfect the way they are: lazy days of reading and dozing, skiing, adventuring, flexibility, quiet time to recharge, the ability to go out and/or have people over without having to consider a little person's sleeping/routine needs.

The thing that is the hardest is that this is not something you can achieve through hard work, or wanting. It will happen when/if it happens, and it doesn't happen for everyone (although the assumption is often made that not having children is a matter of choice). It is not a process you can control (and both Jake and I love control).

So what is the wrap-up to all of this? I don't know. We keep doing what we're doing. We talk to doctors, we figure it out, maybe. Mostly, we wait. Time is broken into 2 week chunks for me now: 2 weeks where it is possible to conceive, and 2 weeks where I wait, not knowing.

I guess we just keep waiting. And hoping.

Addendum: I wrote the above at a time when I was feeling really low about it all. Thankfully, that bout of darkness has passed, for now, and I am feeling hopeful again.

If you are the sort who prays, I would really appreciate help in finding peace with this process. Whether I conceive a baby or not will not be a defining feature of my life, but the way in which I handle this process very well could be.  I pray constantly to be ok, to accept, to acknowledge and let go of the control I want so desperately to have; I remind myself that I am doing what I can.

There are a lot of pregnant people in my life right now - a baby is due in a few weeks, as a matter of fact. What I don't want is to be jealous, angry, resentful or unable to walk with these dear friends as they go through an incredibly intense experience. I want to be there for them, to listen and laugh and cry with them in their lives too. Right now, it is taking a lot of energy, but hopefully it will not always be that way.

I also have a lot of little people in my life whom I love dearly and take great delight in (while also relishing in my full nights of sleep) - I want to continue to enjoy those relationships as they grow and develop.

Some of you may be wondering about Jake's role in all of this: he is wonderful. He is supportive and kind, although it is hard for him to understand my despair sometimes. He is endlessly positive and reminds me that our life is and will be great, no matter what comes or doesn't. I think, though, no matter what, it is different for the woman - the physical nature of carrying (or being unable to carry) a baby makes it different.