Let’s talk about the bad days. The kind of days when you feel like you’re living a stranger’s life and you see baby animals everywhere you look and it seems like everyone in the world who has a uterus is pregnant. And then there’s you.
Coming to terms with my childless future does not mean that days of grief and sadness don’t exist. It does mean, at least for me, that they are less frequent and usually less intense, but they are absolutely there. And when these days happen I feel like there’s a Greek chorus following me around chanting, “…but you’ll never be a mom.”
Husband and I spent the morning drinking coffee on our porch and reading. It was so relaxing and peaceful. …But you’ll never be a mom.
Making plans to travel across the country to hang out with a new friend. …But you’ll never be a mom.
Looking for restaurants and bars at the beach instead of worrying about children disliking the sand or throwing a tantrum. Fuck yeah! …But you’ll never be a mom.
I could go on and on and on with examples from today alone. Days like today suck.
I’ve been in therapy long enough to start to chip away at today’s anxiety and sadness and realize where it’s coming from. At this point, that’s the easy part. I have a pretty good idea as to why I feel this way right now. And that helps a little, at least in the logical part of my brain.
Unfortunately, the Greek chorus lives in the very much not logical part of my brain. Even right now, as I sit in my oversized comfy chair in the cozy nook of an office that we’ve created, a particularly bitchy member of the chorus has broken ranks and is doing an evil little solo number, “…remember when you thought this room would make a perfect nursery?”
Not all days are boozy brunches or perfect images of a childless but happy life. Yes, when I’m done here I’m going to station myself on my couch and watch old episodes of trashy reality television. And yes, I understand that’s a luxury that I most likely would not have if I had little spawn running around. And yes, tomorrow will be a new day.
But tonight, the Greek chorus won’t be silenced. Best I can do is hope to muffle their refrain.
A postscript: I was trying to find an interesting title for this post by doing a little Googling about the Greek chorus. In doing so I found a source that said that the Greek chorus played an important part in plays and especially in the tragic plays. Maybe I should embrace my chorus? Maybe they play some sort of important role in my growth?
Maybe in the future I’ll have grown and healed enough to feel that way, but for now? Fuck ‘em. They’re assholes.