My Fate

You know what’s weird? My future re: motherhood is (assuming I am pregnant) already … right this second … written in stone. Since I believe my IF issue is malfunctioning eggs, and because the wonky cell division has or has not already occurred – my fate has been signed, sealed, and delivered to the Universe. I’ll get the memo in about 6 weeks.

This is the closest I will ever come to knowing that there is a future out there that does, in actuality, already exist. My Fate is a real thing – a future already determined, just not yet known. (BTW, I know there are still many things that can go wrong besides chromosomal, but I’m just philosophizing based on the assumed problem. Whether by blighted ovum or stillbirth, there are still only 2 options: mother or not mother).

This is truly the most humbling and poignant lesson I’ve ever had in powerlessness – which is actually very empowering. It must be what it feels like to believe in a God that has a plan for you with the accompanying luxury of giving in to that plan rather than trying to manipulate everything yourself. But since my worldview does not include a God, but instead envisions our lives as the random and chaotic intersection of Circumstance with Individual Action, I usually end up agonizing over past, present, and future decisions, wondering if I correctly chose/am choosing the path that will get me where I want to go.

I suppose you reach this place of calm mindfulness when you’ve reached the limit of the actions you can take as an individual. That is decidedly antithetical to my nature. I have never ever felt that there was a point at which it was safe to give up the never-ending rumination that was my insurance against disaster and failure. I know intellectually that the worrying does no good, but I’ve never FELT it. However, after having made a firm decision with my husband that this is going to be our last go round, there is no more action for me to take besides general upkeep.

I do have to credit my husband for providing the firm resolution behind this decision – a firmness I would never have achieved on my own. But he is crystal clear that this is the last time; and I have agreed. So there it is. And it actually feels good.

Don’t get me wrong … I am still wondering and hoping and I look at my calendar 2-3 times a day to verify the number of days till I know if I am pregnant, but there really is this strange absence of the nail-biting angst I have felt in the past. Instead, I have this weird experience of suspension – in both senses of the word. I observe the sensations in my body and my emotions from a very removed position. For instance, I wonder if the breast soreness and heaviness in my abdomen indicates baby, but the typical hop-scotch of thoughts and fears doesn’t follow. I’m in suspense – not the horror-film kind of suspense but the gentle, floating on your back kind.

There are moments when I will realize the full import of how my life will change and the possibility that I might not get what I want and have to re-invent myself – and that hits me like a ton of bricks. But the pain and drama associated with those thoughts has the potential for too much damage, and thus-far I have been very successful in pushing them to the side.
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Alternately, this feeling of calm suspension might indicate such a high state of self-protection that I have entered a zone of perfect denial and disassociation. Shirley McClain, eat your heart out.