From my personal journal, nearly two years ago:
my whole consciousness is focused on a cell; the largest in my body, but still so small. a tiny egg released with a twinge of pain, low on my right side, late in the afternoon.
he was so slow & tender & careful of my pleasure, and in the end he says quietly in my ear “i want to come inside you.” i say i want this too, tell him it’s early still & ok.
this afternoon, a muscle tightness and a fast ache, and i think i felt my ovulation. i checked my calendar, where i so carefully monitor my moods changing with the moon. i counted wrong, last night in bed with my husband.
i tell him the numbers were wrong.
he says “morning after pill? oh it’s too late.” i nod, knowing i have 48 more hours to take it. we discuss things more. he brings up the pill again. i say “do you want me to call?” and then dissolve in tears and tell him i don’t want to take the pills. i tell him:
“i don’t want to be but if we are i don’t want to not be.”
“i kind of want to be.”
he says “don’t want that too much.”
lots more tears.
“i want a baby so much.”
he holds me & i cry & he says we’d have nine months to plan, find jobs. it’ll be fine. he isn’t worried.
worried i’m not, then that i am, but mostly a mild dread of my period, disappointing. this desire is overwhelming, to be a mother. can’t reconcile it of course, with the money worry that’s made me a tensed wire, but it’s a constant dream.
it makes me guilty, but i can’t help it. i can’t think about money and insurance, i think of tiny dresses or boy haircuts and big round bellies & wide hippy clothes & eating healthy thinking of a small life growing.