Freddy Kreuger v/s My Uterus

Yesterday at work I had the pleasure of trying to maintain my composure while enduring the epic battle between Freddy Kreuger and my body. Trying to sell shoes while convinced that a miniature version of a horror movie villain is trying to claw his way out of my uterus with his creepy knife hands was no small feat. And I didn’t succeed very well. It was also a slow day with no customers and nothing to do. Everything was cleaned. Everything was priced. Everything was flagged so customers could see what we offer. There was nothing to distract me. Nothing to do. Except stand there and try to not be sick.

As I get older these monthly battles have gotten worse. Not as bad as 9^th grade when boys in my classes would ask the teacher if they could take me to the nurse because I clearly looked like I was about to die. I still had my waterbed then and I would turn up the heat to about 110 degrees and wedge myself down between the mattress and the side of the bed. It was glorious. A full body hot water bottle. And when I got too hot I would go lay down on the bathroom tile, which wasn’t really tile, but linoleum gets almost as cold.

I try to remind myself every month to view all of this as the blessing that it really is. I try to remind myself that this is all evidence of my almost magical ability to bring forth life. And it does still seem like magic to me. I understand quite well the biology of it all. But science doesn’t negate the wonder and awe I feel when I think of all the things our fragile human bodies are capable of.

Not too long ago someone asked me if I wanted children. I think my answer was something like “If I’m supposed to have kids I’ll have them, and if not I won’t. I’ve gotten to the point where I’m okay either way. ” A mature response I think. And completely full of shit. I think I was just trying to convince myself. Wanting children goes against everything else I thought I wanted out of this life. But at 33 I can finally admit that I do want children. I do want a family of my own. I do want all the joys and complications that come with those. And admitting this has brought on an entirely new struggle for me.

If this is what I want, what the hell do I do now?