Grrrrr!!!

I have this habit of writing down sentences of things I want to think about or write about later. Usually these life-altering thoughts come about right before bed or after I have been asleep a while. I make the effort to get up and write them down, but, by the light of day, they are undecipherable. I have done that about 37 times already with this blog. I have 4 lousy posts and 37 fantastic ideas. I feel like all I am is chicken-scratch on a slip of paper.

One thing I did not want to write about is relationship things. Yack! Yet, post #2 ends up being about just that topic. And, try as I might, I can't help but write about them today. So, I am going to do just that. I'm upset, and I feel like I need to get it out. So...

(inhales)

I feel like the rug has been yanked out from beneath me. I feel like I am a flounder gasping for breath on the riverbank. (Do Flounder live in lakes, rivers? I don't know.) The point is that today I was told that if I want children I need to seriously think about staying with him (or some such verbage) because he 90% doesn't. It just came out of the air. So nonchalant. And I sit there looking at him like, "Huh?" I felt like I was kicked. He could so easily be done with me if I want a baby?

The thing is that neither of us were ever certain about wanting a baby. I am partially paranoid about the thought of not being in control of my body. Additionally, despite all people tell me about how great I am with kids, I don't know if I could deal with one 24/7. I will also refer to a child as "it." For example, when my cousins hoist an infant at me, I repsond with, "No, no, no! I don't know how to hold it!" (Note: Mothers are not complimented when you call their "bundles of joy" It.) Plus, I just have that underlying feeling--that so many of us have before children--that I am going to just screw it up anyway. I do want to see my parents happy, though. I think they would be happier with real babies as opposed to granddogs. I even saw a Seinfeld episode recently where a character said if she doesn't have a baby by the time she is 40 she's going to have to killer her mother because not having a baby would kill her (the mother). Hard to paraphrase, but I hope the point gets across. I always wanted a family by the time I was 26, like my mom, because she was always young enough to be cool when I was in school. And I loused that timeframe up; granted, I could have made that timeframe and not had S, but that is something I would not have wanted; thank heaven for unanswered prayers in that respect. Now that I don't have that life, though, I don't know if I want it anymore. Am I too old now? I mean, hollywood stars have babies at 60, but to normal people? Then again, maybe this "I-don't-know-if-I-want-a-baby" thing is what women say to lull ourselves into thinking we don't want babies because it is getting too late. All I do know is that the biological clock doth ticketh, especially with my family history of cancer and the times the doctors do and do not want me to possibly conceive.

The point is... I wanted the option. I don't want to not have joy in my days when I am older. I don't not want to see future generations. I do want a human to spoil. Granted, my dogs and the step-cat count for now, but I might want something that can actually speak eventually. (Flash forward to when "It" is a teenager and I just want "It" to shut-up.) I just don't know!

When we were first getting to know each other, he was straight-forward about kids not being high on his list right now; I was of the same opinion, though I told him I thought I would still probably want one. He said that we could have one before it was too late for me, but he didn't want one right away. "A few years down the road," he said, and I agreed. He said he wanted us to enjoy life and really get to know each other for a while. I wholeheartedly agreed. I added that I may never want one; he said that was fine. I confided that I may not be able to have children; he said it was okay. We joked about dropping a baby off at my parents house when it needed changing or we wanted to go somewhere. In conversation, we even agreed on baby names for girls. In fact, we both said we liked Isabella at the same time as the first name. I thought it was a sign of sorts. Then, one day, he said something along the lines of I should rule out children because "maybe one day we will want to create a miracle." Whereby "miracle" = "life". I thought it was the sweetest thing I ever heard. I was taken aback and even had a religious moment. It made me fall in love with him more. I even told my mom he said it--and how he said it. I was head-over-heels.

Today, he told me he never said that.

I just want to crawl in a bed and hide. I don't even know if I want children, but I know I don't want that option off the table. Ironically, we've been around people today who are talking about their kids. I just feel like I am getting kicked again when I hear it. It was just so unexpected. Then we exchanged minor barbs with each other, mine was exceptionally minor in my opinion (though in your own opinion when is it not minor.) I just don't know what happened. I mean, I remember waking up this morning. I remember that. I remember him sitting on the couch and looking at his will and documents for our life together. Then I remember him saying pulling breaking up out of his ass. I am clueless. I can tell ya, though, this really hurts the trust factor and trying to let my guard all the way down.

I'm shocked and am just left feeling like I suddenly have to make a choice a monumental, unexpected choice at 1:07 p.m. on January whatever-it-is, 2009. I know I don't want him to waste his time with me, nor do I want to waste my time loving and trusting someone, if this is a roadblock and he isn't going to be around. Yet, I also know we love each other, and I don't believe either of us wants to be without the other. Reality must set in at some point, though.

The weirdest thing, and maybe the most hurtful thing, is that sometimes I get "feelings." When he told me this earlier this morning, I had a flash in my mind. I saw myself bending down to smile and shake hands with his adorable son, who was like 3 or 4 years old. He was smiling with his arm around his friendly, brunette wife's waist, hugging her. I was alone, no children, thinking that we broke up because I wanted a child and now he, who didn't want a child, has one. It was just a dumb moment, but it felt very real. Maybe he loved her. Maybe she tricked him; which I would never fathom doing to someone. I don't know. I just felt real.

And I felt alone.