Learning to negotiate, Love, Passing Woman, Pregnancy, Self-Questioning, Volatile bodies, What Women Really Want, Wonderboy


I’ve been really sick. I haven’t been able to eat anything in two days, and the two days that followed those I’ve been drinking juice. I’ve lost a dramatic amount of weight and I’m still not well. I’ve only had one stomach flu like this as an adult before. I don’t know where it came from, but I hope it’ll die away soon.

Because I’m ovulating.

I’ve been trying to write about this conversation we had with Wonderboy. A shocking conversation. But I haven’t had the strenght. How convenient that I’d fall ill in it’s wake.

On Thursday night, as we were curling up on the bed to talk about our day, I asked Wonderboy, how long we would wait before we started to try for another baby, when trying for the first has been so exhausting and taken so long. I mused that I’d really want to wait a long time, 5-6 years, but I don’t know, if we can since it’s so difficult for us to get pregnant.

He was taken aback and literally got angry at me. First I had no idea why.

I only want one kid, he said.

Silence. I was sitting on the bed still, shocked. This was no joke. He was serious.

I’ve always said I want kids, two kids, we’ve talked about this before.

And I’ve always said I want one kid. Just one.

What was I supposed to do with him informing me he didn’t want more than one kid? I tried to appeal to the past.

But you said, when we met, that you would start wanting them. Otherwise I wouldn’t have started a relationship with you.

I didn’t want any kids! he exlaims and somehow it feels like he still means it.

I don’t see the difference between one and two. I’ve just been thinking, how happy you’ll be when we have a child. And we’ll nurture her and she will grow. Why would anyone need another one?

He’s an only child. I remind myself of that. Maybe he’s feeling jealous on behalf of the first child? He’s making me sound greedy. Like it’s wrong to want more than one child. In my head I blame him of being selfish. I blame him for not telling me, seriously. Not having this conversation before in a serious tone. I never believed him, when he would counter my thoughts by saying we would have only one small one.

It’s not right for the first one to want another! he exlaims and I think I know, how he thinks now.

The next one has the right to be wanted and loved just like the first one. She already had that!

Well, why do you need more than one child?

I don’t want them to be alone in the world.

Like your sisters are always so good to you and those relationships work.

That’s not the point.

Yeah, well, I only want one kid, he says like this is the end of the conversation. I don’t understand, how you don’t know that already, he adds.

I guess I never believed you.

I’ve said it like a thousand times!

But not like this! Not like you mean it!

People never really joke. They always secretly mean it.

I don’t understand, how you don’t know that I want two kids! I’ve always wanted two kids. That’s why I told you I want kidS, not A kid! If we even even have one. And it’s not just your decision!

I’m crying already, helplessly. All sorts of things are going through my head. If I’d only known, I could’ve chosen someone else. Someone who is capable of conceiving and wants children, would’ve wanted them from the get-go. What can I do now? I can’t leave him, because he only wants one kid and even that is only a slight possibility.

Do you realize what a sacrifice it is for me to make to only have one child?

He doesn’t answer. Then he asks, what now?

I don’t know, I sob to the pillow.

I love you and I don’t want to lose you, he says sounding resigned.

I love you too. And I don’t want to lose you, either, I answer him. So much is clear to me.

He takes me into his arms. He caresses my hair. I don’t think we kiss, we’re not ready for it yet. He confesses that he’s afraid that I’ll fall into post-natal depression. I see he’s thought about it. I try to explain that most of my depression now is because we can’t have children, but I don’t know if I do it only in my head.

Do you understand, how it feels like to want a child? More than anything? To need one? I ask him in a whisper.

He is silent for a while, tentatively, maybe he’s expecting an insult or an attack, if he says he doesn’t. I look into his eyes, serious, tears glinting in my eyes, waiting.

No, he answers.

It feels the same to want another one, I say.

But how can you know? he asks. I’ve never had even one child before and neither have you. How can you know, if it’s enough or not?

I just know.

But how?

Like I know I want one. The same way.

We are silent, but he’s holding me. I’m still crying, tears just roll into my hair and pillow and his chest and neck.

If we just try and see, how it feels like, he says. How it’ll be with one.

Okay, I say. We’ll try and see.

But now you know how I feel, I add.

And we leave it at that. Nothing really resolved.

When I go to him, sick and pale on Sunday night and tell him I’m ovulating, he just brushes it off. After brushing our teeth he says he’ll fuck me tomorrow.

It’ll be too late tomorrow.

No it won’t be.

And I immediately think about Saturday night when he came on my face. It was so hot and now it’s under attack. If he’d only come inside me I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But he hasn’t come inside me for a long time. Too long for this purpose. And I think that this is as good of an opportunity to conceive as any, because I’m not at fault here. He is. Why is he making my life so miserable?

Still. It takes a minute or two, but I tell him I love him. Because I do. And because he can’t help what’s wrong any more than I can. And he can’t help the way he feels about children, how scared he is, how defenceless. How he wants to make me happy and says so. I just want to make you happy.

But in the back of my mind, way back, I know I’ll have two children. One way or another.


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