This week my health has been interesting. It’s the only real thing that describes it. It hasn’t been awful, it could definitely be worse, but my digestive system is having some serious moments. This week has not been it’s finest hour. I got a bit over tired with schoolwork and my body threw a hissy fit.
My stomach has swolen up ridiculously because of this, it the sort of I-cannot-button-up-my-jeans level of stupidly swolen, and it hurts. A lot.
I was complaining about it to some friends at lunch because my clothes wouldn’t fit properly and one of them joked I looked pregnant.
If that wasn’t bad enough I managed to pretty much have a break down in between meeting my partner for cake (or for me boring iced buns with no dairy yay!) And him walking me to the Harry Potter Quiz. It was a lot of fun, but I was already sort of spiraling by this point after the pregnant joke.
We passed this mum and her two kids. One of about 5 and the other still in a buggy. The littlest had a Minion hat on, my partner hates minions (weirdo) and we were joking how if we had kids I would get them minion stuff just to annoy him. Only there was this huge Emmet sized gap, and he just looked at me and I could see he realized what we were talking about when I did, or rather, what we weren’t talking about.
I can’t imagine a future with him without children, it’s so ingrained in everything we do, but talking about children we might have in the future really hurts.
He tells me over and over that he doesn’t mind that I can’t have children. That he’s fine with adopting in the future should we genuinely decide to have children. (When we’re more settled.) But it bothers me, it bothers me so much. I want to have a baby of my own, with a bit of him and a bit of me, I just don’t want them to have my health. I just never had to face it before loosing Emmet, it was an easy solution because I didn’t miss the idea of having a baby that would be totally ours from the start. It’s selfish I know that, any child I have however I have them will be loved the same, unconditionally and with a healthy dose of literature, because the Hobbit is a good bedtime story (it worked for me and my brother).
Anyway, we saw this kid and there was the usual ‘pull’, as I’ve termed it. The sort of resigned yearning for something (or someone) that nestles into your heart and gives a tug sometimes. I was just about okay until I said goodbye to my partner at the gates so I could go to my quiz. When I got in I had to hide in an empty clasroom until it passed and try not to cry so people wouldn’t ask what was wrong.