Life As Cassiepants

Ponderings on Life, Food, Allergies, and Potbellied Pigs

Cassiepants

Cassiepants
Location
California, USA
Birthday
May 11
Bio
Woman, wife, domestic fairy (because that's who does the dishes, laundry, and vaccuuming, don't you know!), proud mama to two silly potbellied pigs - identities hidden to protect the innocent - and hopeful writer living in SoCal.

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Salon.com
MARCH 27, 2012 2:48PM

Bittersweet

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For the longest time, I have hestitated to write down my feelings about this. And I am posting here, as I know this is a place my family hasn't found yet - a sanctuary where I can share my deepest feelings without impacting the ones I love.

My sister is pregnant. She is 32, almost 33, and she has been married for 2 1/2 years. Her husband is ecstatic, as is her stepson, an adorable boy who is 9 years old, bright, funny, and caustic-witted. This week they posted their first photo of her expanding waistline. The joy in her smile is a wonder to behold, especially since I remember all the sleepless nights I spent when she was in college, sitting with her on a wrought-iron fire escape in Koreatown in Los Angeles, watching her blow smoke rings as she coped with depression, despair, and a truly devastating detachment from her own emotions.

But I'm jealous. And every time I call to see how she's doing I wish that it were me sharing news and photos of a bigger tummy instead of her. After all, I'm 37, almost 38, and my husband and I have been married for over 8 years and together 11. We've been trying to conceive about as long as she had. My husband has to go in for fertility testing in the next week. But I have a feeling the news won't be good. See, I've been pregnant once before, in my twenties, and my body, according to my ob/gyn, is doing all the things it should be to make a baby a possibility. But hubby, in spite of years of relationships, has never had an 'ohno!' moment. I can only hope that his issue is something treatable with exercise or diet or a fancy pill.

And in the meantime, I keep making the call - to find out how she's sleeping, what kinds of cravings she's having, how it feels to have her body begin expanding. It's a kind of torture for me - to want so desperately to be sharing that kind of news myself. And after  avoiding starting a family while I enjoyed building the strong, warm relationship that I currently thrive in, I have to fight against believing it's my own fault for not trying years ago.

I only hope that communicating my complex feelings here will make it easier to support her journey to Momhood. They're finding out the sex of their baby in three weeks.

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I love you. I wish more than anything in the world that I could fix this for you. And it's even more difficult to express because neither one of us is going to buy any trite sentiments of comfort I manage to cobble together. Sending hugs.