A ticking time bomb…with a faulty fuse?

I have a confession. I omitted something out of my last post. Something has been plaguing me this weekend. I did not mention it because I am still dancing around the issue in my own head.

For awhile now, probably two years or more, I’ve had the sneaking suspicion that I may be unable to have children of my own. Due to certain activities in my past and a rather serious relationship where we intentionally threw caution to the wind, I have had many experiences that could have led to pregnancy. While I am grateful now that they didn’t, they sparked the concern of my barrenness. Ever since, I don’t think I’ve gone one day without thinking about it at least once, even if just in passing.

I had an unpleasant reminder of all of this yesterday. It started with this.

My mother and I were driving down the road after a rather awkward experience at her Starbucks.  You see, I went out with a guy a few weeks ago (we will call him Bad Date) for the first time since my broken engagement. You’ve probably already assumed from his name that it did not go well. Very astute of you.

In all fairness, my unfamiliarity with dating after a long, monogamous relationship did not help matters much. However, I do not consider an awkward nerd from Boston without a chivalrous bone in his body, pawing at me and taking me out at nine ‘o’ clock at night to a college type bar to be the start of a great date. I’ve been to many a college town and partied it up plenty in my younger days. I am still not against the occasional bar-type fun, but most certainly not on a first date! But I digress. I ran into him on a visit to my Mom’s Starbucks and tried to be pleasant after I rejected his request for another date…through email! (The request and subsequent denial were through email. Just to be clear.) His eyes showed his discomfort at seeing me and I wisely choose to occupy myself with texting to my friend, T,  about my hopeless dilemma.

After finally leaving this uncomfortable situation, allowing my friend T. to get off the phone, my mom apparently decides it is high time to deliver an emotional blow. Maybe the clear lack of a good potential mate in my life prompted her impeccable timing.

My mother was kind enough to bring up yet another factor in my future ability to have children. She mentioned my two aunts on my father’s side and reminded me, none to gently I might add, that they both were unable to conceive. And a few of my grandmother’s sisters. This is the side of the family that I most take after, by the way.

At first I gasped in shocked acknowledgment of the truth of her words, then as my mind reeled with the potential meaning of this realization, my eyes welled with thick, glassy tears. I was wearing my shiny black Jackie O. sunglasses though, so my mom barreled onward, talking at what seemed hyper speed on the subject, unaware of the horrified reaction I was experiencing in the passenger seat of her dark grey coupe. All my fears and secret or not so secret doubts were instantly given solid ground. No longer were these previously unsubstantial concerns born of a worry wart mentality. Now, my mom agreed with me! And had more reasons to support the possibility! She had been surprisingly supportive when I mentioned my desire to pursue a sperm donor if I was single and childless in the next 5 to 10 years.  Now she just nearly slammed the door shut on that idea with an almost cavalier attitude.

I might not be able to have children of my own, Internet World. It is a somewhat crushing realization.

While I am aware of the many options out there for childless couples or people, I understand the reality of the expense of such options..and it is not my first choice. Adoption is wonderful thing, but I want my own baby. My own blood, my hair, my eccentricities. That is not a popular opinion to admit to, but it is mine.

I want the experience in its entirety. To waddle around in misery, fat and pregnant with possibility, the future. Look at my child lovingly, remembering fondly the better part of a year I spent in discomfort and pain, fiercely protecting its tiny, helpless body with my safe and warm womb. I want to love it so much my heart explodes with bittersweet love and joy and pride every time it leaves my side…and returns.

And I have to face the very real possibility that these things (and the many other joys and heartbreaks of having a child) may not be in the future for me.