I went to choir tonight and faced my friend there who is pregnant.
Only, I didn’t face her at all. I kind of ignored her, saying hello and goodbye as though we were acquaintances instead of former foreign-country roommates. The only moments that approached normalcy were when we were seated side-by-side, rehearsing our part, and I made some fairly typical-of-me jokes and side comments about the music. And that, I can attribute to being, like I said, side-by-side, so that I didn’t actually have to look at her.
I hate this. I don’t like pregnant women, but I do like my friend, and thus I am in conflict. I feel like I’m keeping a secret from her – although, honestly, how is it possible that any of my friends don’t know about this by now? – or maybe it’s that I feel like she’s keeping a secret from me.
“But if she does know,” I told Doug later, “it should be much easier for her to approach me and say, ‘I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable,’ than it is for me to say to her, ‘I hate that you’re pregnant, and I can’t be happy for you,’ which is essentially what I say to these girls when I try to explain myself. And that’s not really something you can go around telling people, that you’re not happy for them.”
“Not necessarily,” he answered. “Some people can appreciate that kind of honesty, or at least appreciate it more than a fake, happy face, or being given the cold shoulder.”
He has a point. And I really don’t feel like losing another friend over this. If only I knew which tactic would make that possibility the least likely.
Some days (today), I want to give up. I want to agree with everyone who’s ever asked me, “Why don’t you just try to get pregnant, if that’s what you really want?” In the car on the way home from choir, a country song came on that goes:
If you’re going through Hell,
keep on goin’
don’t slow down,
if you’re scared don’t show it…
just keep movin’
face that fight,
walk right through it…
This song was released around the time I was going through my divorce, and I used to sing along with it, loudly, and I would feel empowered. Tonight, I started to sing along, and then I just started to cry.
I do sometimes feel like I’m just barreling through Hell with my head down (think football player), but also not getting very far (think Darren Sproles lately). And there is an easier way to get to the other side, and that is to get the hell out of Hell and go back to what I was doing a few years ago: gambling with my ovaries, marginally aware of the cost-benefit analysis of getting pregnant, and not caring.
Of course, going back is impossible, “and, when you can’t go back, you have to worry only about the best way of moving forward” (The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho, p. 77). Again, though, I don’t know what that best way is.
If I stay on track here, it looks like this: I continue with this blog, hopefully making some progress and/or reaching my goal of healing once and for all, until April 17th, 2011. The details of the next 16+ months are blurry, but there will most likely be a wedding to plan, which I know from experience takes that kind of time. That hypothetical wedding will then take place on September 1st, 2012, and then, immediately, we’ll start trying to make babies, because by then I will be thirty. So you see, in that choose-your-own-adventure option, there is really no time to have a kid.
Or… what? I give up now, quit the blog, take out the IUD, and go back to gambling – a little worse for wear, but as close to my three-years-ago-self as I can get? And then what if it doesn’t work? Or what if it does work, and our families disown us? Or what if it works at the most inconvenient time, like right in the middle of the hypothetical wedding planning?
Or what if it simply works, and I end up with everything I ever wanted?
Oh, sometimes doing things the “right” way is so exhausting. And sometimes it sounds so tempting to just close my eyes and jump.