I shared a joke about calling a child Gotham, and she said it would be how I could get her interested in a child, before admitting she still had no immediate interest in children. I hadn't felt the need to pass on my genes until recently. Now, though, my inability to carry my own offspring stung severely. I went from indifference about procreation to being ravaged by my inability to carry that child to term myself.
I'd also considered, something the movie had just driven home, the things I would never have, the things I'd tried to find substitutes for. I wanted what so many teen girls probably did. I couldn't scream too loudly. I was hardly the only one who'd never be wooed, caressed, held, swooned over.
I don't feel like I can share this truth with my spouse, at least not right now, without jeopardizing our relationship. I'm not sure I can share it much at all, and so only a handful of you can even see this. I'm supposed to know better. I'm not supposed to want what I know I can never have.