I don’t really feel ready to commit at least three hours a week to a blog again, but I suppose that’s what makes improvement in anything so rare; you’ve gotta keep at it even when you’re bored, or feel tired of it, or feel like doing something else.
I want to become a better writer, so back at this we go.
Now, what have we missed? I went to a wedding over the weekend! Though I guess we already covered that. I also got the apartment I wanted, and have been living there for the last week. That’s been grand. Also exhausting. I think I was right to take the week off.
But nevermind that. My time off is over, and back we go to regular posting. That’s every Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday, just in case you’d forgotten 😉
It’s difficult to know what to write about. I like talking about myself and my feelings and opinions quite a lot, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, but it’s tricky finding a topic I can write about in an interesting way which can connect with other people. Last Sunday’s did that well, I think, and you should read that if you’re looking for something meaningful and relatable. As for today… I suppose I’ll do what I usually do; write about whatever’s on my mind, and hope someone finds it to be worthwhile reading.
I’ve talked a little about the weird effects hormones have had on my emotional and mental state. Well, what effects I think they’ve had. It’s hard to know what’s placebo, what’s a result of societal expectations/gender roles being pushed on me, and what’s actual physiological effects from my endocrine system adjusting to a new hormonal balance.
Being more emotional was something I noticed early on. It’s settled down a bit, but when I first started HRT, and when I changed my dosage a few weeks ago, my emotions were all over the place. I’d go from laughing in exuberant joy to feeling miserable and crying my eyes out, back to happy all in the course of an hour. It was exhausting, but also a big relief after a lifetime of suppressed emotions.
There have been other small things, like it taking a loooot more to get me half as angry as I used to constantly get before. I suspect that one’s not so much hormonal as a natural byproduct of not living in constant grief and frustration. Still, it’s a nice change.
I’ve had plenty of time to deal with most of these things and get used to them, but lately something new has been building up inside of me, and it is beginning to drive me crazy: I want a baby.
Okay, that’s not quite right. I do not want a baby. I do not want or need the responsibility or stress, and I quite like being able to sleep more than ten minutes a night. But, you know… they’re so cute with their big, big eyes, and little arms, and… gaaah!
I’ve written previously on my dreams of motherhood and my frustration at not being able to give birth to a child, but what’s been happening in the last few months goes way, way beyond that. Sure, I wanted kids, but it was in the same vague, patient way I want to write a book someday; I’m sure it’s going to happen eventually and I’ll be glad for it, but I’m no rush.
At some point that all changed, and now I’m constantly thinking about having a kid. On my way to work, while reading at home, or cooking dinner… no matter what I’m up to, or what I’m trying to focus on, my thoughts drift back to the same idea.
I. Want. A. Baby.
Except, you know, I don’t. You get the point.
I’ve brought this up to a few other women, and it’s been interesting to see they’ve all felt this too, to some degree. Maybe that says more about my choice of friends than anything else, who knows. (Though being honest, I doubt I’ve been purposefully surrounding myself with people who want to have kids.)
More likely though, I suspect it says something about hormones. I didn’t start feeling like this until both my testosterone and oestrogen levels were both firmly in cis woman territory. Once they were, the feelings intensified very quickly, very strongly.
It makes sense, of course. I haven’t done much research on it, but it seems obvious that the desire to procreate and raise your offspring would be a beneficial one in natural selection.
Then again, I’ve been expected more and more to fit into the gender roles society generally accepts for women, and motherhood is probably the biggest one of these. I don’t think there’s any woman on Earth, whether she actually wants a kid or not, who hasn’t felt outside pressure to get pregnant.
It obviously hasn’t been anywhere near as strong with me, since you know, my family can’t really make comments about someone without an uterus getting pregnant. However, I’ve still been exposed to popular media and common depictions of other women as mothers, and felt the implicit suggestion that maybe I should be like that, too.
Whatever the reason for it, whether it has more to do with the oestrogen now in my body, or feeling societal pressure (or a combination of both,) I have found myself wanting a baby with a feeling I can only describe as primal.
It’s not rational, and it doesn’t come from my brain or even my heart. It just feels like something I NEED to do, and it’s hard to stop thinking about it. I recently joked with a friend that even though I hated that I can’t ever get pregnant, I am a little glad I don’t have that temptation in front of me.
I’m not sure that joke is all that funny any more; I am genuinely starting to feel thankful that nothing bad will happen, no matter how much my self-control gets worn down.
I can’t see a baby on the street without wanting to go up to it and try to get it to smile. One of the highlights of the wedding I went to on Saturday was helping another woman carry her baby for a little while. Heck, I was just watching Bojack Horseman just now, and an episode featuring an animated animal baby left me incapable of focusing enough to keep watching the show (hence why I’m writing this post now).
It’s driving me crazy. I don’t like being so unable to control how I feel. I don’t like having such an irrational urge tugging at me all the damn time. Most of all, it is frustrating and exhausting to feel my biological clock ticking when I don’t have a clock in the first place!
No one I’ve talked to about this has really found any advice to give me. Every other woman I’ve mentioned it has been all “welcome to womanhood!” and given me the tired grin of a fellow soldier fighting in the same war. I suppose I’ll just have to get used to it, and hope I can build a stable life for myself (preferably with a husband), and get a chance to adopt a baby before too long. I might not last ten more years of this.