Three days before my period is due and I feel that warm sensation in my belly that always inevitably turns into cramps. Any hope I had when I felt wetness, when I looked it up and learned it could be a sign of pregnancy, when I was so sure we had perfectly timed everything this cycle—is washed away with one cramp. I feel defeated and sad, like my body is working against me. I feel old and shattered and wonder if this is the end of my chance to bring another life into our family. I feel selfish because I already made one life and she is a blessed, gorgeous life that I don’t even deserve. I should just be happy because so many women don’t get an opportunity to create one life. Who says two or three or four lives are superior to one? Who decided that?
Part I of my blood has already been given away to the gyno and I’ve been instructed to return on the 21st day of my cycle to give away Part II.
A Luteal Phase Defect.
What a beautiful name for a stupid thing.
All of a sudden, I am the moon, or a portion of it? A crumb? My limp body is being pulled and poked by its highness the moon, like a submissive tide? The moon isn’t supposed to get things wrong. It isn’t supposed to only provide 8 days in between ovulation and menstruation. That, my friends, isn’t enough time to conceive.
Idiot moon.
In every place on planet Earth, you’re considered young, gyno told me when I visited her a few months ago. Except here.
Remind me why I didn’t have children when I was 24? Oh yeah, that apartment in Williamsburg was pretty, pretty fun, that’s why.
Random Thoughts on Motherhood 