Deeks is right—he is better than anyone in the world at making me laugh. It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with him, and in fact I think it was the very first reason that I agreed to hang out with him after work in our early days as partners. I mean, we weren’t doing anything I wouldn’t have done by myself (target practice, working out, eating dinner while watching trash TV, etc.) but he made everything so much more enjoyable with his lightness and humor.
Unfortunately, nothing Deeks could do would break me out of my I’m-not-pregnant-again-funk this morning. I’ll blame my period hormones since obviously there are no pregnancy hormones coursing through my body, but I can’t believe I started crying about it at work. In the armory, no less—one of my happy places! I know three months is not a long time in this context. I’ve talked to my doctor and read tons online (which only adds to my anxiety—I should probably stop looking at stats on the chances of getting pregnant after 30). But what if I waited too long? What if putting this off because I wasn’t ready to leave work results in us not getting pregnant at all? I feel like we’ve been riding an emotional roller coaster since the false alarm that started us down this road three months ago.
Yes, there are other options, should they become necessary. Adoption is one of them, and I wouldn’t discount it as a possibility for us one day, even if we have a baby the more traditional way. But I really want to experience all the joys and miseries that go along with pregnancy. Morning sickness, peeing too much, late-night cravings, feeling the baby move, stretch marks, not seeing my feet, larger breasts (okay, that one’s for Deeks), giving birth (at home, preferably)—I want it all! Hell, Deeks even dreamt of me being pregnant while he was unconscious. I would hate for us to miss that, and I would hate even more to disappoint him.
I spend a good amount of time every week training to build and maintain my strength, stamina, and skills and it has always paid off. But there’s nothing more I can do to get pregnant beyond what I’m already doing: maintaining my health and having sex every few days. I’m so used to making things happen and controlling my own fate that I feel betrayed by my body when it doesn’t respond the way I want it to. I remember feeling the same way when I was paralyzed, and it dragged me down emotionally. And Deeks’ perpetually positive and encouraging outlook did nothing to ease my panic and depression because it didn’t seem realistic at the time. That’s why I’m glad he opened up about his fears today.
I’m relieved that so many of his fears are the same as mine—that we waited too long; that if we do have a baby, he or she won’t be healthy; that something will happen and we can’t fix it. But it saddens me that Deeks still worries about the kind of father he’ll be. I know what his parenting role models were, and I’m not concerned. Bertie tried her best but being in an abusive relationship and then a single mother didn’t leave her much time to devote to her son. She did show him unconditional love, though, and Deeks gives that in spades. And if Deeks’ “father” did anything for him, it was to motivate him to be the opposite of that man in every way that matters. Deeks as a dad is something I dream about, and the last thing I worry about. He’ll be a father to rival my own, of that I have no doubt.
While I have no doubt Deeks will be a dad like mine, I’m a little afraid that my parenting skills will be lacking if I don’t “click” with our children. Part of the reason my dad was my best friend was because we had so many interests in common and I wanted to learn everything he could teach me. But what if that’s not the case with our kids—how do I connect with them then? My worst fear when it comes to being a parent is that I’ll have the kind of relationship with them that I had with my mother. Yes I loved her, and she was a great mom when I was growing up. But my connection with my father was so much stronger that I was able to simply cut off all ties with Mom because of something she did (or said she did) to Dad. What does that say about the strength of our mother-daughter bond? I know our relationship is good now, but that’s because I finally grew up and realized I wanted and needed her in my life. That’s not what I want with my children.
Okay, Kensi—shake it off. Time to end the pity party and look forward to the next month of trying to get pregnant and all the years of forming strong, loving relationships with our kids. Ninja assassins or baby wolves (which are actually called wolf pups; I looked it up), we’re going to have them one way or another.