And perhaps I was calling you on every single day of the year subconsciously. There was an unrelenting chime in the air, a love attraction frequency of high desire on the balloon of my aura and on the ointment I placed on the nude of my wrists with your presence on it. You changed over night with a hunger that consumed your own calmness and forced out your desperation at the temple of my being where I looked down on you for once my sweet giant.
But I remember being with this other guy, my temporary high in the backseat of a car and there a moonlit sky shining through the glass and the police and the skunks of the night patrolled both making their own rounds. I was with an obsessive mature man posing his green werewolf eyes on the unclothed parts of my skin where he seared it with established longing for my youth. We made out heavy covering the light of the moon with fog; our faces were flushed, our jaws wide open and our tongues jolting of wild electricity.
And he had this magical way of knowing how to bring me closer to him with just his fingertips on the ends of my hair. Oh how he caressed my hair like a woman with softness like strolling with minimal clothing through a garden of delicate flower petals to feel the sensations of nature. He was finding his way down, my shirt in custody by the mass of my breasts and he nibbled the entire space of my stomach grabbing onto the sides of my curves. And I shook and shook in pleasure similar to the first time I received foreplay when I was twelve but I watched his own saliva strings at the corner of his mouth being overran by happiness.
Perhaps I was calling you on every single day of the year subconsciously as I do even now. It’s why I feel you bother and visit me in my dreams on most nights. Bet it’s why you called me at 4am, your maniacal self because just as I do, you feel me there.
The blood results came back and I became crippled with the news, “You’re pregnant.” My suspicions were true along with that Tiger dream, the one who magically fixed a uterus back together. I hung up the phone and backtracked. Everything made sense: Breasts filled with voluminous rage, cravings I kept in denial like a drug addict and my stomach rising like yeast. The sinking feeling of depression, the steady exhaustion, hyper sexual appetite and forgetting about the gym was soon to be up for debate or a choice to make, one that follows instant termination.
Which came first: The slip of a faulty IUD I’ve had on for years or the pregnancy? I’m uncertain and so is everyone else. And if 9 weeks and 2 days weren’t enough time on my plate and in my belly I had to head into the emergency room to figure out if the pregnancy was in fact in my uterus or if it was going to be considered a very dangerous: Ectopic pregnancy. I spent the entire day looking at people with different diseases in the hospital and was sure to contact a disease from the man who was vomiting next to me.
And no matter where I went I had to deal with every single nurse and doctor and even my own bizarre GYN stating how I can have this baby if I want to regardless of the small facts like the percentages of miscarriages that derive from the IUD and the first 20 weeks of pregnancy and regardless if the IUD somehow could penetrate the baby itself at some point or another. It seemed like everyone assumed I’m going to have this baby knowing that the reason why I opted for an IUD in the first place is because it has a 99% effective rate without hormones. But somehow I managed to be that 0.01% to become pregnant. Is it safe to say the downside to being healthy is being fertile? (And I know there are women out there who can’t have kids or are trying to, so it seems with that last statement I’m ungrateful. I assure you I’m not ungrateful.)
Last night in my honesty I told my aunt about the pregnancy to which she was ecstatic and made me call my mother who cried out of joy for something she could look forward to instead of dying in her nursing home bed who told me to call my brother to let him know he’s going to be an uncle. They were all just making plans and seeing a future I didn’t. I never mentioned to them that I have an appointment for termination. This would break their hearts. Now I’m to lie to them for the next few weeks until I feel they can bear it. The only person who made a mention of why I’m leaning towards not having the baby was the Indian lady who was probing my vagina with the sonogram dildo. But I presume she was just a nosy woman or just needed not to feel as awkward as me having that camera dildo in my twat so she became nothing less than a chatty Kathy.
It’s absolutely crazy how people don’t live your life or care to see things from your perspective yet they want to tell you that college isn’t important that having a baby is because you’re not getting any younger and there’s a time limit. A time limit for whom since I’m of no concern to them? It’s insulting and it’s basically telling me, “Your life doesn’t matter. Just have this baby so we the family can live for hope in the name of the future.”
Is anyone truly prepared to have a kid whether financially, emotionally or mentally?
I’ve never really gave it much thought until last week. I also never gave it much thought to have a child because I’m not at a place where I’m pleased to be. How would I look like having a child while still living with my roommate? How would I handle being burdened in my own life and than to bring that forth to my child even if it wouldn’t remember in the early part of their years? I don’t have family or friends who would be able to babysit for me. I still want an educational degree that I’ve earned. I want and need more money. Surely, all these things can be excuses because there are plenty of people who can do it all or do their best. But it’s not for me. Not now. But I realize that no one can be prepared for having a child. It changes the complete fuck out of you. I couldn’t imagine having it at this time.
I was struggling with the thought of being a bad person (something I believe I’m truly not) because not allowing this baby to live will somehow make me a bad person. Still I did my best to not have a repeat of a second abortion that took place 9 years ago when I was put to sleep. I was young, scared, full of tears and very emotional even after I dealt with it. Still 99% is only 99%. Maybe when I go in this week to take care of the final duties my punishment is being awake while they perform this 3-5 minute procedure.
And in some weird way I feel like I probably deserve it even with the precautions I took.