For the first time in many months I have found myself dreaming of a baby. It’s been a while since I’ve discussed TTC, at length or in seriousness. It’s mostly frivilous girly chirping with my best friend, usually as we coo over knitting patterns for baby booties and such. And then, this weekend.
I went down to the Greenbelt with the above mentioned friend. We waded through bone chilling water, watched dogs frolick in the foam and skipped rocks along the glassy surface. We sunbathed on a rock that jettied out from the river bank and I burnt my poor shoulders and calves to a lobster-y colour. Rather than retreat to the BF’s house, we trugged onto the mall. Our last stop in said mall was at Janie & Jack, the most horrible, evil store any mall could have. I felt little parts of my heart wither and die as we cooed over gorgeous girly dresses and painfully cute boyish jumpers. I suppose that was enough to force my sun stoned brain into dreaming of babies, of pregnancy, of a little life Fil and I forge within my body.
It’s hard to come to terms with the realization that my heart is not willing to move on from TTC. My brain rationalizes, tells my heart what everyone knows to be fact – we’re too poor, our relationship is not strong enough, we don’t have the room, what about insurance. My body protests, saying that it’s not ready, not strong enough or healthy enough yet. And my heart… well, she just keeps dreaming of tiny wrinkled feet.
I have mastered the art of pretending not to care. Of never speaking about babies to Fil – I simply gush in the general direction of my best friend, who reciprocates with so much excitement it’s almost shocking. I wonder if I were to bury this for so long, would I forget that the desire even exists?
Maybe this is all due to the sun, which has made me a very sick Att.
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