My new psychotherapist is theorizing that I’m so baby crazy because I desperately want a bond with someone that makes up for the crappy mother/daughter relationship I have with my own mom. While on one hand it’s easy to shrug it off as blame the rents nonsense, there is something to it.
My mom and I have nothing in common except we’re related. She stays at home and crochets. Period. She does not vote, watch the news, read anything beyond the kind of romance novel with a half naked man and woman on the front. She does not follow gossip. She doesn’t like to travel. She doesn’t go farther than maybe a half hour at most for shopping. She’s not into fashion, makeup, or hair. She wears thick white socks with black loafers. She does not have a college education. When we talk, there are very few topics of conversation.
She loves me, she really does. And I love her. But we just have nothing in common. If we weren’t related, we wouldn’t be friends, and that’s the worst part to admit.
When I examine my relationship with Husband, I see that in some ways I use him and his family to get the things I’ve missed. I see his parents almost every week for dinner on Sundays. I’ve adopted his ethnic culture because I have no ties to my own, whereas he’s first generation American and the ties to India are strong. I felt safe marrying him because there have been maybe 2 divorces in his family, ever.
I don’t have a dad, so I don’t have a different parental relationship to make up for what I’m missing with my mom. My grandmother was the one I was close to, and she died 17 years ago when I was 12. Which means she’s been gone longer than I knew her.
I am missing something.
But while it’s a conveinent reason, or a conveinent excuse, I don’t think it’s the root reason. It may, however, be a contributing factor the urgency I feel.
However, we can’t ignore that I’m the kind of person who likes a plan, and having that plan fucked up messes with my universe in a very real, very scary way. And losing the baby most certainly threw my schedule out the window.
I feel like my body betrayed me, and that I can’t trust it to do it’s job. And considering that you can’t get away from your body, it’s hard to have an adversarial relationship with it.
Beyond all of that, it’s TIME. I did the college thing. I did the grad school thing. I lived on my own. I travelled. I got married. It’s what comes NEXT.
And…have you SEEN the little hats in the baby section of Target? Have you held a newborn? Have you been smiled at by a baby? How can I NOT want one, even if it means sore nipples, dirty diapers, and colic?