The Dark Side

It never ends. Tabloid reports of Britney's new baby seem to all lead to her quote about how the baby wasn't planned, how it "just kind of happened." I think of Mel's sliding scale of happiness and sigh. I shouldn't care. It shouldn't matter to me at all. And yet.

Yesterday Mr. Mandolyn anxiously called me to find out what they said about my blood. So far, so good. I go again this afternoon again so they can compare levels. I want to be genuinely excited. I want to be grinning ear to ear. And yet. I can feel myself trying to build a wall around my delicate heart. Just in case. I loath "just in case." I hate that it keeps reappearing in my head every time I think I've kicked it out for good. Mr. Mandolyn and I talked yesterday about it. While I'm comforted that we are going through the same emotional ups and downs, it truly breaks my heart to hear how it's hard for him, too. He is also somewhat involuntarily guarding himself, trying to strangle out thoughts of doubt. Yes, so far everything is good, but it was all fine at this point last time we made it this far. A close friend joked that I'll be uncomfortably pregnant in the hot summer months and I choked back tears. We have a room empty at the house, painted for Someday Baby. My mother was asking decor questions the other night. We both avoided eye contact and rapidly tried to change the subject. We're so afraid to think ahead. We're afraid to let ourselves imagine something that might not come true. We're afraid to be thoroughly happy. Maybe it's that we've never been down the smoothly paved highway of fertility. We got diverted to this unnamed dirt road, littered with rocks and tumbleweeds. At any moment, the scattered debris might cause you to blow a tire, but it's familiar.

"Think positively" is something I keep hearing. Damn. I try, but these thoughts simply won't go away. It's all just so unfair, and I know that I haven't experienced anything compared to some. "Fair" is something that only exists in fairy tales. But sometimes I like fairy tales with their sweet innocence and nicely packaged storylines. I'm thrilled to be at this point, don't get me wrong. But that happiness comes with strings attached. I'm still angry that Mr. M and I won't ever get to experience the joy of gestational naiveté. I hate that we've realized the fragility of our hearts and that we have to cloud this pregnancy with emotional cautiousness. I hate "just in case."