Dysphoria and pregnancy

April Fools. A day to joke about being pregnant, amongst many other things. That’s when I started going downhill. See, I’m completely unable to bear a child. I’m able to have children, but I can’t carry them, because, well, I’m a trans woman. So, I don’t exactly have the right parts. If this is news, then welcome sunshines to my blog, strap in for an interesting ride.

I spent the better part of yesterday lost in a fog that has not quite lifted from my thoughts as of yet this morning. I’ve just been zoned out, missing a lot of what people say, everything seems so far away. As my post yesterday may have shown, I’m having a very hard time right now with the fact that I couldn’t bear my children, that I will never be able to bear a child.

I got to R’s house after spending some time with my mommy (whom I loves very much ^.^). I held myself together alright for, I don’t know, about an hour or so. Finally, R and went out in the garage for him to get a cigarette while I tested out my wonderful new bong that my roommate gave me (which, if anyone really wants to know, it will knock you on your ass and then kick you while you’re down. I’d say it’s a win).

Anyway, after we both finished our respective smokes, I looked at R and started trembling. I asked him if I could invade his space, meaning I wanted him to give me a really big, long hug.

He gave me a hug, and I lost it. I haven’t cried so hard in a long time. The tears came so freely, I couldn’t do anything to stop them. It was like trying to stop Niagara Falls with an extra large emu, except far less amusing.

Every time I thought that maybe I could finally control myself, the sobs swept over me even harder. I don’t know how long we were there. I don’t know how long I cried or how long he held me. I tried to speak, I tried to tell him all the things that were running through my head, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t say anything, all I could do was cry.

It tears me apart that I’m completely barren. All I could think was “I’m empty”. I never wanted kids, because I could not bear them. I love my babies very much, but it’s so hard sometimes to know that I didn’t carry them, and never ever would have been able to.

I wish my dysphoria wasn’t so bad. It would be nice to be able to be at least semi-comfortable with my body while I’m in a situation in which what I want (surgery) is not within reach. I can’t do it though, I just can’t. I’m so far on the dysphoric end of things that I feel like Wile E. Coyote when he realizes he ran straight off the cliff. Often, there seems to be no floor beneath me, and if I think about it, my heart drops.

I’ve never allowed myself to mourn my inability to bear children. I’ve always tried to hide it, and now that it’s surfaced, I can’t make it go away. I just want to go home. I just want to cry. I want to stop feeling it. My everything hurts, and I don’t want it to anymore.

Thank you for reading, and I do hope you have a beautiful day dear sunshines.

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