So.*

I’m pregnant. J and I aren’t keeping it, for financial reasons. We, understandably, don’t want to have a kid that we can’t provide for the way that we want to. If we were to keep it, the long and short of it is that J would need to get a second job and we would never see each other. We don’t want that, for a multitude of reasons.

Everything about this hurts like hell.

It is also, unequivocally, the right choice for us, the responsible, unselfish choice for both the short and long term. We do, eventually, want to get married and start a family. We’ve talked and dreamed about this already, before we even found out that I’m pregnant. We’re both just…sure about us, in a way that seems absurd when I say it aloud because it’s so soon and yet…I look at him and just somehow know that I’m probably looking at my husband. We’re building something, slowly and with great care and consideration, that we both believe is meant to last. We both know that having a baby (and god, our baby would be so loved) would not be in the best interests for us right now, either individually or as a couple. We’ll probably, if all goes according to plan, be able to start trying to start our family in a year or two.

But we’re both struggling with the emotional complexities of ending this pregnancy. It’s a brutal feeling, knowing that something that you’ve both wanted for so long is right there and also not at all the right time for it. It hurts like hell that I will have had two pregnancies, when this is all over, and no living children. It hurts like hell that I’ll never know the color of this baby’s hair, or how their body looks when they laugh, or even whether it was a boy or a girl.

I cry a lot, these days. We both do. But we hold each other while we cry and that makes things a little easier.

Hopefully, we’ll be able to get an appointment at the clinic on Monday for our consultation to look at what options are safest for me, given my medical history and the fact that we’d like to preserve my fertility the best we can. Hopefully, things will go smoothly and there won’t be any complications. Hopefully, there won’t be too much pain and I’ll physically recover quickly. This is the best I can hope for.

We’ll be okay. It’ll take some time, but we’ll be okay. We just really, really aren’t okay right now.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to spend some time with my baby, with what little time we have left.

*I do not, under any circumstances, want advice, to be talked down to or out of our decision, opinions on options, political or religious views, or anything even slightly smacking of judgement. This is, absolutely, the healthy, informed choice that J and I are making together. Your** opinions are not welcome. Full stop.

**I don’t mean YOU you, my loving and supporting friends. But there are assholes in the wild internet and ohhhh, I will block and delete comments to my heart’s content if anything even whiffs of being assholish. This is my relationship, my baby, and my life. Decisions made here are not up for comment.

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18 thoughts on “So.*

  1. Oh K. My heart is with you and I am so sorry for the struggle and pain you’re going through. Hard decisions are so, so hard and you are so loved.

    I AM glad that you can cry together.

    xoxo

  2. I am so sorry for the pain you are feeling and I wish you both peace as you move forward in the decision that is the best for where you are at right now.

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