Brett doesn't like it when I blog. He thinks that I share too much information about our intimate lives. He finds it embarrassing to have all this dirty laundry out for everyone to see, but I look at blogging as a kind of therapy. I look at it as an outlet for suppressed thoughts and emotions. It seems like the only time I ever really say what I'm thinking is when I write it down. Writing, I guess, is a window into my soul. Brett also hates it when I paint him as a villain. I'm not really vilifying him, I just think he's gets overly concerned about what other people might think of us. I don't really care. It's a blog. It doesn't mean anything.
Sometimes he does treat me like the recalcitrant child, and scolds me like a parent with a child. I tolerate it merely because I do act like a child sometimes. Lately, I have observed that I am very immature for my age. I am almost 30 years old, and I feel like my maturity level is that of a young woman in her early 20's. Ever since we started dating, I never really acknowledged the gap between our ages. I guess I unconsciously adapted myself to him and never really though of the consequences till now. Turning 30 seems to be such an ominous age. I look at most of my classmates from school and realize that they have 3 or 4 children, some of them old enough to be in my first grade class.
I look at my immaturity as perpetual until I actually have a child myself. I want a baby so bad right now that it hurts. A dear friend of mine recently found out that she's having a baby after facing near impossible odds. Her husband had a vasectomy shortly after he divorced his first wife and she lost a ovary about a year ago. But aside from all that, they managed to get pregnant.
As far as I know, Brett and I don't have any physical problems preventing us from having children. Just financial ones. Most of the time, I think it's a poor excuse especially now that he's has a full time teaching job. Granted, health benefits for me were not part of the new job package, but I honestly don't care. I know that the Lord will take care of us.
The only thing I care about is the big gaping hole that I feel in my life. It's matters like this that remind me of the gap between our ages. He's just barely 25 and doesn't even want to think about kids. I'm 29 and all I can hear is the enormous biological clock ticking in my ear telling me I better get busy before it's too late. I love my husband with all my heart, and I want to bear his children. I just wish he would stop worrying about how much it's going to cost and simply trust that we will be taken care of.
He's going to be mad at me for sharing all this out on the internet for everyone to see, but I couldn't keep this bottle up inside me any more. I've told him how I feel about all of this before, but it never really seemed to come out right. This way, there are no judgements passed until after it's read and reviewed and I can say everything I needed to say. To fight fair, I would share it on facebook. He'll have to find out about it and read about it on his own.
