When I was a little girl, I thought that my life would play out like this: grow up, graduate from college, get a job, get married, shag and then have babies.
Okay, so I didn’t really think about the shagging part when I was young, I wasn’t such a perv. When I was about four or five, I thought that simply sleeping with a man in the same bed would knock you up. Well at that time, my definition of “sleeping” was very, very literal.
Now that I am no longer a girl (a WOMAN, that’s what I meant) nor so little, this was how my life has played out: grow up, get boyfriend, break up with boyfriend, graduate from college, wonder why the F did I waste four years of my life on that useless degree, get back together with boyfriend who then became the fiance, get a job, be retrenched five months later, get another job, get married, get on birth control (because whoohoo! We MUST be extremely fertile!), get off birth control, shag – not pregnant, shag – not pregnant, shag – not pregnant again (!), shag – STILL NOT PREGNANT, see my gynae and diagnosed with infertility, embark on IUIs #1-6, switch doctors, go for a laparoscopy, continue shagging – STILL NOT PREGNANT.
Whew. I got tired just typing all that.
Life really isn’t how we imagined it to be, huh. (Here’s your chance to say NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.)
I could put a positive spin to things and tell you that ah, I’m zen about it, que sara sara, whatever will be, will be and all that bullshit. Sometimes I am but mostly, it’s not. I haven’t made my peace with it and I doubt I ever will. I just ignore it most of the time, in order to live. There are days when I ask myself, why me? I love kids, for God’s sakes, and I only pulled a bad trick on a kid younger than me ONCE.
I mean, nobody asked to be impregnated by a catheter as a kid, right?
(If you did, you are extremely twisted and need to check yourself into a psychiatric ward pronto.)
As we stand upon the threshold of the holy trinity – that’s I, V and F for you – I know that we are well on our descent into a reality that’s going to be even more stressful, tough and emotionally wrecking. Put simply, it could make or break our marriage.
Mr Thick is built like the quintessential man, he lacks the Emotions and Sensitivity chips. He does not know how to deal with the weeping and the cave man mentality that I have (I beat my non-existent chest and retreat into my cave when I get upset). Sometimes, he is The Oblivious Arsehole Who Deserves To Sleep In The Living Room At Night.
The good news is, he does not remain the Arsehole for long. And the better news is, slowly but surely, he’s learning how to deal with me. This is an imperfect world and we are imperfect beings. And in some random cosmic twist, we have to encounter the very worst sides of each other during this journey – sides we would never have had to see if the ideal life had played out.
It’s not a good thing nor is it a bad thing. It’s just, well, life.