If Wishes Were Fishes

Yesterday I had a long-overdue girly-appointment with my OB/GYN. I've been avoiding this appointment for about a year and a half, always hoping to return, not for a check-up, but because I was pregnant.

It's been more than two years and nothing has happened. I have baby fever and see pregnant women everywhere. I talk about having a baby sometimes with Brian. Although he says he wants another baby, I don't hear the longing in his voice and I wonder if he really is glad we don't have another. He has two from a previous marriage and I worry that he feels "full" enough already. I love Alex and Kenzie and Kiff, but I want another of my own. I want to feel pregnancy one more time, to experience the wonder again.

The weight in my chest got heavier the closer I drove to the doctor's office. I parked and sat in the car for a few minutes, composing my thoughts. I walked in the doors and the smell was overwhelmingly familiar - it reminded me of anticipation and giddy happiness. It was the first time I remember not feeling homesick for my family since getting married.

Everything in the office and waiting room was the same except for me. The main waiting area was filled to overflowing with pregnant women. I couldn't bear to be surrounded by so much fecundity so I went to the smaller waiting area off to the side. Tears threatened to spill, humiliating me further. I hate being jealous. I want to be better than that. I'm not.

I'd brought a folded book with me to work on while I waited. I sat there and folded, my chair facing away from the main waiting area and walkway. I was startled by a hand on my shoulder - a nurse had seen what I was doing with the book and begged to see it. Her enthusiasm for my project was like a ray of sunshine in my overcast mind. It warmed me and, for a little bit, I forgot my emptiness.

Sometimes I wish my husband read my blog, that he knew how I felt. Isn't it weird to think there is so much he could learn about me if he chose? Does it matter that he doesn't know?