dariaphoebe: (redhead)
dariaphoebe ([personal profile] dariaphoebe) wrote2015-02-22 07:10 pm
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It was just a movie, a romantic comedy. There was no reason it would hold anything on me, but as we broke for the evening, I felt melancholy. The message of the movie was that truth enabled love. Between the means in which it did, and a discussion hours earlier about children, I felt reamed.

I shared a joke about calling a child Gotham, and she said it would be how I could get her interested in a child, before admitting she still had no immediate interest in children. I hadn't felt the need to pass on my genes until recently. Now, though, my inability to carry my own offspring stung severely. I went from indifference about procreation to being ravaged by my inability to carry that child to term myself.

I'd also considered, something the movie had just driven home, the things I would never have, the things I'd tried to find substitutes for. I wanted what so many teen girls probably did. I couldn't scream too loudly. I was hardly the only one who'd never be wooed, caressed, held, swooned over.

I don't feel like I can share this truth with my spouse, at least not right now, without jeopardizing our relationship. I'm not sure I can share it much at all, and so only a handful of you can even see this. I'm supposed to know better. I'm not supposed to want what I know I can never have.

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