Stomachache

'Stomach' is a funny looking sort of word. So is 'ache'. Put them together and it's almost enough to make you laugh. The sort of feelings it describes, however, don't really induce that sort of chuckle out of me. Not since Monday, and the testing and Thursday and the results. Now, I am scared of every cramp and worried of every bout of nausea.

I have a stomachache today.

I don't know if I'll be able to have children. I've been thinking that phrase a lot lately. I've said it out loud dozens of time. I even said it before I ever got those stupid test results back. I said it for lots of reasons, at different times, to lots of people. I always sort of meant it. But it never scared me before. It used to feel like a sort of self-implicated restriction. Something I could always reverse if I ever had strong enough desire to. Now... Now it's that sinking feeling that drops out from underneath your breakfast and leaves a cold sort of stone in the pit of your stomach that makes your afternoon tea turn on you. It feels like betrayal. Betrayal by your own villainous body. Betrayal by your own flesh and blood. Which is funny, sort of, because that's always a term you hear people use for their offspring.

"Their own flesh and blood."

I write to get this out from inside of me. It feels like a poison, gnawing at my twisted up entrails. Wreaking havoc and crying out from inside of me for more. More... pain? Suffering? Nothing specific. I don't think I could give It anything and It be happy and content.

It.

I think I've struck on something important here: there is a feeling of invasion by something Other inside of me. That something alien has breached my most sacred and vulnerable.... Inside Place. My Core. I read once that people used to think that your soul resided in your liver. Or something like that. I remember more clearly learning about benevolence being found in the liver. It does sort of feel like I am centered around what I can huddle safely with my arms. I want so much to have a baby. I want to be pregnant. I want to be all round and shiny and lovely and full of life. I want to bring life into the world. Life created out of love and commitment and attraction and compatibility and friendship. I want to hold the little angel in my arms. I want to nourish those tiny hands and blinking eyes. I want to coo and caress and sing and laugh and cry over my child.

I used to think that I would never have children. That I wasn't stable enough. Wasn't a healthy enough vessel. That I would never find a relationship worthy of that elusive title of 'family'. I mean, you've got to really make sure the set-up is a-okay. Everything has this nasty habit of falling apart. I wanted to make sure my foundation was strong. I found Poncho. Or, rather, he found me. Showed up one evening, in my living room. Surrounded by strangers and vague acquaintances. Uncomfortable. Like he was in some bizarre-o world waiting room.

"Yes, of course, Mr. White. You sit right down there and your soul mate will be in to get you. Could you just fill out this form while you wait for her?"

Poncho is my puzzle piece. Everything I needed in a partner. Everything I ever could have wanted. I love him so much, in so many different ways. I need to just write about that sometime. It's just, so overwhelming. Still. We've been together since March of last year and it still just blows my mind. All of it. The perfect friendship, the kisses, the Love, the sex, the cuddles, the conversations, everything. He's perfect. Well, no. Not perfect. He has faults and the like. But even those are strategic, in connection with me and my faults and imperfections and such. We're perfect for each other, even as imperfect beings. I think he's the dreamiest, sweetest, softest, most wonderful friend. Best friend, boy friend, all kinds of friend. Any kind. He's there for me in every way. Whatever way I need. It's just, astounding, when you think about it. Really amazing. I looked so long. I tried so hard with so many morons, to make this. To create some inkling of this, that I now have in abundance. It's so disgusting to me, now. The past. Anyway. I'll talk about the past more later.

Poncho is going to be a great father. 'Is going to be'. Not 'would be'. We'll adopt. Foster. Something we want so badly to have children. They don't have to be from our genes. It's probably better that they're not. I have lots of genetic crap I don't want passed on. Used to be another reason I always said I wasn't having kids. I didn't want them to blame me for all the problems I handed down to them. ADHD, bipolar, depression, anxiety, asthma, stupid-bad allergies... But I decided, you know what? I love myself the way I am, all that included. And god knows Poncho loves me for who I am. So who's to say the kids wouldn't love themselves regardless of genetic quirks? Precisely.

Well, I feel much better now. I think I'll end this now, on an optimistic note.

Peace, Love and Strawberries.