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Baby Fever Won't Burn Me
a blog by jennandtonica, June 10, 2010
I don't dare to dream the way many do while (or sometimes before) trying to conceive. There are names I like, but I don't have any picked out for a future child. There's a rug I like at IKEA that would look really pretty in a bright blue room, but that's as far as my plans for a nursery go. Hell, I'd be happy to have that rug and wall color in a future library (which I will definitely have one day). I have never bought a tiny pair of socks just in case. I've never stashed away a cute baby blanket.
Baby fever is what they call the obsession some women develop over all the baby Stuff - the clothes, toys, nursery decor, name books - STUFF.
I can't bring myself to put my dreams into tangible items I might have to give away to fertile friends or sell in a garage sale. Baby fever has never infected me.
I won't let it.
My husband and I lived next door to a giant mall during the first year we lived together. It seemed like a dream location, but we were broke. I only stepped foot in the mall when friends or family visited. Out of sight, out of mind. If I can't have it, I don't want it. Call me crazy or ignorant or jaded. All I know is I cannot handle tasting something I can't have.
Baby stuff isn't necessarily something I cannot have, but we've already faced enough difficulty in trying to conceive (and to maintain a healthy pregnancy), so conceiving and giving birth isn't a future I can guarantee for us. Adoption is an expensive, long, difficult process, and I can't guarantee we'd succeed on that path, either.
I can't guarantee that I will be a mom someday. I can't guarantee that Stuff will ever be used.
Don't think I'm a cold-hearted pessimist. The two short pregnancies I've had opened up two worlds of dreams I couldn't hold back. Beyond those, I have abstract dreams of our future family that would be done a disservice by any attempts to put into words.
I have dreams, but they're dreams that go unspoken and are only acknowledged by the time and effort we put forth each cycle, by every "thank you" to my husband after he administers an injection and every time I walk past him on the couch and he pulls me toward him to kiss my belly.