Saturday, August 23, 2008

Doing foster care when you want to adopt is like leasing a car.
It's not really yours, although you get to keep it all the time. You care for it, fill it with gas, store it at your own house, but any moment it could be reposessed.
Or you could just decide you don't want to purchase it and LET them have it back.

I still find myself plagued by infertility woes. I have cycles in which I feel as though I am not meant to parent, that nature showed me the path and I am trying to get around her.
Of course the other side of the argument is those women who can have children and simply shouldn't. Those fertile myrtles who abuse, well, anything and everything.
As I am not one of those, I am pretty well blinded by the initial ideal that mother nature interceded where she sees fit and maybe the bitch should get the last word.

There are many days I wonder what would happen if I accepted my barren-ness and gave up the quest for an alternate route.
Sleeping in every weekend. Going on trips whenever with little to no planning. Going to the movies. Not having toys and crap all over my house.
There are times these thoughts are quite enticing.

If I had a biological child, I don't think these thoughts would be so prevalent. They would exist, of course, because I know so so many parents who are exhausted and joke around about 'the time before children took over their lives'. However the lingering option to give up would not be there. There wouldn't be a real alternate. The car is bought, the papers are signed, you now owe for the rest of your life.

But I am in a lease. And should the reposession take place, there is nothing I can do about it. And I think about this a lot.

Would letting mother nature win cost me my marriage? Hubs says he wants children, but some of his future plans don't truly include them. Traveling all the time and being a weekend parent often feels (to me) like an out for him. Even now he parents maybe an hour a day during the week and a few more on weekends. The bulk of the responsibility and time is mine alone. Thus how much would removing the parenting role effect him?

I question my own motives. Why do I want a child? What do I want for my life in general?
Sometimes I picture myself living in a small cottage off the grid. Gardening, working in a small town. In this scenario I am perfectly content and yet I am always alone.

Someone once said the following and I carry the thought with me always:

In life, I regret the things I did not do more then the things I did and maybe should not have.

I don't think you can get through a good life without regrets. It wouldn't be living if you did. You'd have done nothing. No risk, no loss, no expectations, no passion.
At the end of the day I still feel as though I am standing at this cross roads. With infertility I had to wait for the doctor to push me down a path. Now I wait for the system to give me a shove.
And then I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens if they really do show up and repo the goods. It will definitely move me down another path, but the push might have the force of a mac truck, injuring me past recovery.