Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 2

           Bythen,wemutuallyanticipated,Iwouldhavegrownwearyoftravelingandwouldbehappytoliveinabig,busyhouseholdfullofchildrenandhomemadequilts,withagardeninthebackyardandacozystewbubblingonthestovetop.(Thefactthatthiswasafairlyaccurateportraitofmyownmotherisaquickindicatorofhowdifficultitoncewasformetotellthedifferencebetweenmyselfandthepowerfulwomanwhohadraisedme.)ButIdidn’t-asIwasappalledtobefindingout-wantanyofthesethings.Instead,asmytwentieshadcometoaclose,thatdeadlineofTHIRTYhadloomedovermelikeadeathsentence,andIdiscoveredthatIdidnotwanttobepregnant.Ikeptwaitingtowanttohaveababy,butitdidn’thappen.AndIknowwhatitfeelsliketowantsomething,believeme.Iwellknowwhatdesirefeelslike.Butitwasn’tthere.Moreover,Icouldn’tstopthinkingaboutwhatmysisterhadsaidtomeonce,asshewasbreastfeedingherfirstborn:"Havingababyislikegettingatattooonyourface.Youreallyneedtobecertainit’swhatyouwantbeforeyoucommit."

           HowcouldIturnbacknow,though?Everythingwasinplace.Thiswassupposedtobetheyear.Infact,we’dbeentryingtogetpregnantforafewmonthsalready.Butnothinghadhappened(asidefromthefactthat-inanalmostsarcasticmockeryofpregnancy-Iwasexperiencingpsychosomaticmorningsickness,nervouslythrowingupmybreakfasteveryday).

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