Last year at this time, I was worrying about final exams. Last year at this time, I was wondering why I didn't get my period, and assumed it was because of the stress of final exams. It wasn't.
This year, my expected date of arrival for my period came and went. It had arrived like clockwork ever since June of last year, where it's presence was the mocking reminder that my babies were gone---and has remained that way ever since. Until this month. When it was late. For 3 days. Which was LATE.
I assumed I was pregnant. I cried about it...because I couldn't imagine going through it all over again in the exact same time frame...it would be like last year was happening all over again. It would be like walking in a dream that had ended as a nightmare. It would also have been wonderful...and we started to feel excited. Excited enough to talk about how wonderful it would be if that was what was happening.
But, it wasn't happening. Because yesterday afternoon, my late period arrived in full bravado. Mocking me. Snickering at my reaction. Relishing my feelings of loss for something that never was. Guffawing over my heart break for something I wasn't even planning on. again.
No...I am not pregnant. And, it wouldn't be responsible to try to be pregnant next month. Or the month after. Or probably ever.
Because I live in a different world, in a different time, with limited income, and limited space.
But...the inside of me doesn't line up in an equal sensible manner.
There is the practical part of me that uses a diaphragm for birth control, works hard every day as a freelance writer, and cares for the family that needs and loves me. There is the side that feels overwhelmed by the amount of laundry and dishes and just plain, all out MESS that five boys and an eclectically oriented husband can create in only moments. There is the part that budgets and sees the bills and depth of our dept after a series of unfortunate shit filled events.
That part of me knows there isn't space...or time...or money for another baby.
The romantic and less sensible part says "You are a great mother. There is always enough love, time, space, and money for another baby. There is always a way. always."
But...it really doesn't matter what either part says, because the reality is that I am NOT pregnant, am not trying to be pregnant, and am still in recovery from the loss of Simon and Alexander. It isn't time. It isn't now. and it never was.
So...if that is the case, and it just IS what it IS....why do I still feel like I hear the universe laughing at me?
Why am I crying over something that never was.
I am crying because it might have been.
could have been.