Fast Forward

There have been times in my life, where I wish I could hit the fast forward button. Mostly, to get through the hard, rough patches of life.

In my early childhood, it would have been on Sunday's when I had to visit my dad. He was very strict. I never knew how drunk he was going to be, or if I was going to get a beating. My mom enjoyed her kid-free, Sunday trips to the casinos more than keeping me from my father's wrath. But, whatever. Fast forward.

As a teenager, I, honest to God, wasn't sure I was going to make it out the other end alive. It wasn't because of friends or people in high school. It was completely my home life. My mom was a horrible mother to me. When she wasn't busy calling me a bitch or reminding me how I ruined her life because I was born, she sat back and allowed my brother and sister to treat me like shit. They stole every dime I didn't keep in my pocket for drugs (sister) or alcohol (brother). Neither one of the kids worked a job until they were at least 18, I started working at 15. I'll save the rest for another blog post, but you get my drift. Fast forward.

Not too long after entering adulthood, I met my latest battle, infertility. I am at a waiting point in my life right now. It's pretty obvious, as we near the five year mark, I'm going to need treatments to get a baby. But, NYEBoy is barely into grad school for his PhD, which means we have quite a few years ahead of us before we will have the extra for treatments. I feel torn. Torn because graduation day is so fucking far away, at least a solid five years. Can you imagine me being a bitter infertile blogger, at the ten year mark? I quiver at the thought. Then, you have the other side. The, oh look, five years to spend together, alone. You'll miss it when you have kids, side. I love NYEBoy dearly, don't get me wrong. I love spending time together. But, isn't it okay for me to want to fast forward this time, so I am closer to my dream of motherhood?

NYEBoy would never say it, but I know he wishes I would just be satisfied, until it happens. I've tried to explain it to him as best as I can in man-terms. Say someone told you that you couldn't get your PhD for five years. But, even once the five years are up, you aren't sure how soon you will be able to get it. It could be a year from then, two years from then, ten years from then, or possibly even, never. Would you still love me if you didn't get your PhD? Yes. Don't I make you happy, even if you don't have your PhD? Of course. But there would still be something missing in your life, a PhD. Exchange you for me, me for you, and PhD for baby, and you get my lame ass attempt at infertility in man terms.

If you take infertility out of the equation, my life, at this moment, isn't so bad. I have a guy who loves me a lot. I stay at home, without kids, because he told me, if that is what I wanted and it will make me happy, then, fine. But, yet, I find myself wishing I could hit the fast forward button again. Not to fast forward through the good times NYEBoy and I will have, but to fast forward through the emptiness infertility brings. I wish he understood the void. But, then again, maybe it's good he doesn't. He gets mad when I say this, because he thinks I am calling him naive, but I'm not.

Is it so wrong to want to press that button, right now? Have you ever wished you had a fast forward button?