far overdue drunken-blogging sesh. (you're pleased. i can tell from here.)

It's that time, ladies and genitals, to produce a blog poo, er, post, where I'm all hopped down on booze.  So what's to stop me?  Nothin'.  Nobody.  My fella's in bed with a sick.  And the son is -- god, please -- asleep. 

I am not pregnant.  I repeat:  Not.  Pregnant.

I am sad.  I repeat:  I. am. sad.

*wishes there were more beer in the growler, but there isn't because she poured it into her glass and syphoned the last drops out with her mouth, she's SO CLASSY LIKE THAT*

So.

Fuck YOU, people younger than me who had your second kid already.  And FUCK YOU, people who are older than me who have had your second kid already, and FUCK. YOU. if you're having your second kid now and you're younger or older or the same goddam age, to the minute, but mostly, FUCK you if you already had your second kid and you aren't broke as shit and you aren't living every minute like it's all about to blow up, like you're grasping an unpinned grenade in one hand while you wash dishes and fold laundry and work like mad with the other.

FUCK YOU.

It ain't happening up in here, up in this potentially-tapped uterus.  I don't know why.  I only know I have resented any of you who are not in my particular boat, this one shaped like thirty-six years, this one, with its increasing creases and its warping bow and its more misshapen shape, daily, its less attractive form, its unripening entrails, its heartbreaking, spirit-defying, maddening  - ness, you aren't here, so I hate you.  Not rationally. Rationally, I'm all smiles and pretense.

But inside, I hate you from stem to stern.

I'm sorry.

I don't want to.

I just -- can't help it.  I can't help how much it makes me spit and fume inwardly to know that you have your heart's desire.  And I don't.

I DIDN'T EVEN FUCKING KNOW this was my heart's desire until a few years ago, when I got an F on a pregnancy test, and it hurt.  And since then, every single one has hurt more, where now, it's a willed mastery of all my strength to not break everything in sight when I discover my uterus is empty, emptying, dumping its stupid bloody contents into my porcelain nightmare of disposable heartbreak, FUCK YOU, UTERINE BULLSHIT.

Uteri get it so easy.  They just lounge for twenty-thirty years, in most cases, then work for ten-twelve months and then another break for a year or two or three, then maybe one more go of a year, and then done.

Granted.  The uterus takes on an Herculean task when it labors.

But the bitch gets to recreate forEVER after.

I envy my uterus?

I'm just so tired.  I'm envying everyone.  I'm envying those who are better-dressed, better-looking, better-aged (ahem, younger) or more comely in their aging (ahem, older and better-kept).

FUCK ME.  For not rolling with the punches.

Punch and Debbie.  That's who I want to reincarnate into.

Comments

[Backpacking Dad]

It's okay that I want to give you a hug while you slug me in the gut, right?

[dodo]

xxxx

[Black Hockey Jesus]

This post leads to comment stutter because it's hard to say "Awesome Post!" in response to your despair, but you know how you admit to everyone how you're all smiles and prentense but inside you really hate their guts? That was awesome. It gave me the strength to admit that I hate them too.

[slouching mom]

so sorry, honey. and i understand. my uterus was so fucked that it had to go.

though i have two kids, i wanted a girl, and i wanted three kids, so i don't know that the absolute number matters.

not to one's heart, anyway.

[anne nahm]

*hugs* This is a great post.

[apathy lounge]

*backs away slowly*
Um...long-distance hug, okay?

[Mad]

Hey, at least I didn't get included in the fuck yous. That's some comfort I suppose for my much older, now over and none-purdier predicament.

[Chicky Chicky Baby]

Want mine? I will totally rent you one or both, either hourly or you can go for the heavily discounted weekly rate.

Or you can come here and live with me and I'll keep you happy with wine and beer and cookies. Come on, you know you want to.

[magpie]

I guess I'm on the non-fuck you side, with Mad, 'cause I ain't havin' no more babies. Tant pis and all that.

Sorry honey.

[Kyla]

I can take it, you know.

I wish it was different.

[roo]

You are rolling with the punches. You're just mid-roll, so you can't see it.

Some punches are more powerful than others. It all depends where they hit.

I'm sorry you're hurting.

[hoppytoddle]

have not publicly admitted to my own quest for the two pink lines for fear of jinxing myself. give me 2 weeks & I'll be lamenting proly, too. Sucks. Validating the sucks. & sending some shape up or ship up vibes to that uterus of yours.

[Nancy]

Belated. I'm sorry.

(((hugs)))

[Sarah @ BecomingSarah.com]

I'm new around here, but I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I know this heartbreak and I hope that things work out as you want them to soon.

*hugs*

[Kerri Anne]

Mad love coming right at you. (Duck and cover!)

[C Lo]

It's funny because I envy the hell out of you.....for your age, for your figure, for your creativity, for your husband who stuck around..........

I'll let you borrow one of my extra kids.

[jael t]

I haven't read you in forever and was thinking about you randomly... this must be why. I'm so sorry. So, so, sorry. And you can say "fuck you" to me anytime you want, and throw pillows and whateva.

I'm really sorry. Hold on. Just please hold on. It will be okay. I promise.

Love,

Someone you don't remember

[MelanieinOrygun]

My heart hurts for you. I wish it was different.

[The New Girl]

Deb, I've never been more willing to accept a FUCK YOU as I am reading this.

Go ahead. Get it out. I'm sorry that you're experiencing this fucked up, painful thing.