A letter to my husband

Dave

I’m sorry. 

I’m sorry I’ve turned into this baby-obsessed, temp-addicted, hormonal, crazy TTC woman in the space of 10 months. You see, I honestly never thought that broody feeling that women talk about was ever going to hit me, and when it did – BAM – I don’t think you were ever expecting it either.

I’m sorry I don’t tell you exactly how I feel about this situation we find ourselves in. I sometimes I don’t even know how to articulate it to myself, let alone express my deepest thoughts, worries and concerns to you.

I’m sorry it seems to be all I can think about right now. I know I shouldn’t let it affect me when other women I know get pregnant. I know it’s also bloody ridiculous that I let it affect me when STRANGERS get pregnant too. I just can’t explain it enough to you so that you would understand.

I’m sorry I can’t express happiness when one of your mates’ partners fall pregnant with an oops baby. It’s not that I’m not happy for them, it’s just that I’m sad for me.

I’m sorry that I badger you for sex in my fertile window when I know you’re exhausted from work, yet I’m not that interested in sex when it ‘doesn’t matter’. We used to be at it like rabbits. I’m sorry it can sometimes feel like a chore. I’m sorry I use blow jobs as a bartering tool. I know how much you enjoy them and now it seems like you only get one if the compromise is you finish inside me so as not to waste the sperm!

I’m sorry that I put a time pressure on myself to fall pregnant. I know it’s not sensible to do that, and that I shouldn’t let each passing month feel like we are running out of time. I know we’re not. But you know how I hate feeling out of control.

I’m sorry I walked out of that ridiculous Britain on Benefits TV programme this week where that cow of a woman was moaning about potentially being pregnant with an unwanted baby. I know I shouldn’t take it personally. I know I shouldn’t have shown my frustration by bashing about the drawers and cupboards in the kitchen whilst making a cup of tea afterwards. I know I was overreacting.

I’m sorry I don’t treat my body like a temple like you treat yours. I wish I could lose 5 stone like you have.

I’m sorry I don’t let you touch my tummy because I’m conscious of the weight around my middle and the fact that there’s not a baby in there yet. I promise you, when I’m pregnant, you can hold me and stroke my belly for as long as you want and I won’t swat your hand away.

I’m sorry I don’t let us plan holidays a year in advance like we used to, ‘in case we’re pregnant then’ and we’d have to cancel.

I’m sorry I cry when I get my period. I’m sorry I skulk off into the bathroom in the middle of the night when I’m laying awake and unable to sleep, and private message my friends on the other side of the world who are awake at that time and will instantly reply to me with the exact consoling words that I need to hear.

I’m sorry I still let my heart break over our chemical pregnancy. I’m sorry I let myself get excited for 2 days. I’m sorry that I keep thinking about how we could have had that baby by the end of this year. I’m sorry that I cry about the fact that we won’t.

I’m sorry that I don’t ask you how you’re feeling about it all. I’m sorry I assume that it’s NOT affecting you, when I know you want this just as much as me, you just control your emotions a lot more and keep it in.

I’m sorry I kept putting off trying for a baby for years. I thought we had all the time in the world. If I’d given in to you we could have had an 8 year old by now. I’m sorry I’ve made you stick to MY timeline, and that it’s not working out how I’d hoped.

I’m sorry I haven’t made you a daddy yet. And you’ll be the best daddy one day.

And I’m sorry I keep apologising for these things, when you repeatedly tell me that I have NOTHING to be sorry for.

I love you. Thank you for being the best husband a wife could have.

Bear xxx


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