May 8, 2013

So Conflicted

The weather this past week has been unseasonably warm for May... we even had a day in the 30’s! I don’t know if it’s the beautiful weather, or maybe the fact that spring has sprung (though May long weekend still looms in the horizon), or perhaps my happy anticipation of gardening, or maybe it’s simply knowing that summer is on the way!

All I know is that right now, in this moment, I feel like two different people sharing one body. There’s the Tiffany who is feeling wonderfully optimistic and happy... and then there’s the heavy-hearted Tiffany who is desperately trying to just get through five minutes without thinking about Babies.

I’m so, so terribly proud of Mr. Right that I’m practically bursting with it on a daily basis. Remember how I told you that he was having financial difficulties, and I was concerned with his ability to manage his spending? It was stressing him out to the max and had resulted in his ‘checking out’ on a daily basis, leaving me feeling as though everything was on my shoulders while he failed to contribute at all. After one very heated argument, we both realized that change is inevitable; I am making an effort to bend and he is now working a part time job and making every effort to support me in any way he can. It’s a work in progress and we both are fully invested in a positive outcome and the changes so far have been freaking awesome. I hardly imagined that my love for that man could ever actually increase but there it is; some days I’m sure I resemble a cartoon skunk with hearts for eyeballs and little love-birds circling over my head. I’m also terribly proud of myself because I’ve taken ownership of my own areas that require improvement, and I’m getting it done.

But the pride I feel for Mr. Right... that defies description. His courage, his initiative, the love that he has for me, all of it. I am without words. In the span of a few weeks he turned his situation around completely and bettered himself, knowing that it would also have a great and wonderful impact on our relationship. And best of all, he has not wavered! My personal development fails in comparison to his, and I’m in awe of his determination and self-awareness and his openness to improve. And I love him all the more for it.

In 23 days, Mr. Right will move in with me. Though we’ve been living together for the past seven months, he’s been financially responsible for a house in a neighbouring city. On May 31st, all of his and L~’s belongings will move in to my house and we will begin to share the financial and emotional aspects of home ownership. I have never, ever lived with a man before; I maintained a fierce independence through my twenties and into my thirties, and through several serious relationships. Maybe I should be scared... I honestly thought I would be! Instead, I’m excited and impatient and looking forward to making this commitment to Mr. Right, and I can’t wait for him to finally feel like this house that he’s been staying at for the past seven months is, in fact, also his Home.

Oh, did I happen to mention that my every waking thought for the past few weeks has revolved around BABIES?!? Yes, that lovely ode to Mr. Right has been derailed by baby-fever. The baby-fever was inspired by the lovely birth announcement that I received in the mail last week for my new niece. As much as I enjoyed it, it was a bit of a knife to my gut, like a flag waving in front of my face proclaiming ‘Nyah-Nyah you can’t have one!’ That night, Mr. Right and I ran out of birth control. Yes, I could be typing this with fingers that are attached to a body housing a miniscule developing egg right now... though I doubt it. My control-freakish nature in conjunction with the former plan to knock myself up required that I find out when I ovulate and keep track. While I know that the possibility remains that I could in fact be pregnant right this very moment, it’s highly unlikely. But knowing that there’s even a 1% chance... well, that’s making it a little hard to deal.

Mr. Right knew something was bothering me, so we had a talk about it. He’s finding it hard to understand why I am having such a difficult time putting my need for a child aside, why it upsets me; to him, the simple fact that I KNOW it’s going to happen should be enough to give me patience. Here’s the thing: everywhere I look, I see babies. So many women I know are pregnant or have just given birth (including my sister and cousin!). I feel like I’m surrounded by babies and a man who is capable of producing babies and it’s no wonder I’m a basket case!

“It’s like being a Diabetic in a candy shop,” I told Mr. Right.
“Or a man stranded at sea. Dying of thirst, surrounded by salt water that he knows he can’t drink!”

Last night I spent a good hour cuddling my new niece and reveling in the feelings of having a little piece of me tucked safely in my arms. Indescribable. Bittersweet. Terrifying. Wonderful. Breathtaking. And then Mr. Right came home. If my heart could swell with tenderness and break at the same time, it did. I watched as this 6’3” man, with his broad shoulders and large hands whom my Grandfather proclaimed a ‘big son of a bitch’, cradled the tiny baby in his arms and softly whispered to her while he rocked her gently. Gawd. The cursor is blinking at me now, waiting for me to go on, and I find myself unable to share what I felt in that moment. It was overwhelming need, happiness, anticipation, incredible sadness, envy, want, misery, contentment, confusion... all of this, all at once. Backed up by a chorus of ‘Why don’t I have this?!?’ at the back of my mind. When will this be mine? Will I ever have it? Why does this have to hurt so much, why can’t I just feel all the good and wonderful feelings instead of this mix of bliss and unhappiness??

What is wrong with me??

I often ask myself: would I be willing to throw away the BC tomorrow? If I’m 100% honest with myself and the internets, my only answer can be that I don’t know. The logically thinking Tiffany believes that tomorrow would be too soon; Mr. Right and I need a bit of time to continue to work on our relationship and ensure that it’s as solid as possible before adding more kids to the mix. But the need-driven, impatient, uncertain side of me argues every time, leaving me feeling like a bundle of conflicting emotions that I just can’t resolve.

Logical Tiffany: It’s too soon.
Emotional Tiffany: SAYS WHO?!?
LT: He’s not ready.
ET: Will he EVER be ready? Hey here’s an idea... why don’t you take the choice away from him and just accidentallydeliberately ‘let it happen’ like he enjoys saying!
LT: Wow I am going to hell for thinking that.
ET: One little tiny sewing needle...
LT: Booking my seat next to the devil. Right now.
ET: Poke poke poke!!! C’mon, just do ONE.
LT: I’m an awful person.
ET: Okay fine, no holy condoms. I still say what the hell are you waiting for??
LT: Him.
ET: You’re waiting for Him. HIM. SERIOUSLY? Wow you are awesome, waiting on a man to get what you want. Looks like Miz Independence has given up her crown!
LT: He’s worth waiting for.
ET: Really? Is that what you’ll tell yourself twenty years from now when you look back on your life and realize you gave up your biggest dream for a man?
LT: That won’t happen. I just have to be patient.
ET: Patience is overrated. Get what you need, do whatever is necessary to have your dream. That’s who you are.
LT: I’d prefer my dream to have this man in it.
ET: Yeah, well if you wait too long you’ll have the man and no dream.
LT: Gawd I know. I’m so scared. What if he changes his mind? What if he’s not ready six months from now, or a year from now? What if I wait so long that my window of opportunity passes?
ET: What if it becomes a choice between Mr. Right and your dream?
LT: I hate you sometimes.
ET: I’m right. You know I am.
ET: Umm-hmmm.
LT: Okay. Maybe. But for now, you’re just going to have to let me win this one. For a little while.
ET: I hate you sometimes.
LT: I know. But I’m right, you know I am.
LT: Trust me. Just give it time. Trust me.
ET: Fine. But if you fail me... I’m never talking to you again.

I’m going to hell.
But I'm being patient about it.

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