I know that Deeks just wants to assure me that he loves me no matter what, and that he doesn’t blame me even though it’s my fault we’re not pregnant yet. I’m trying to appreciate what he’s saying—I’m sure I would do and feel the same thing if the shoe was on the other foot—but it’s just so damned hard. I know it’s irrational because I have no control over the situation, but I feel like I’m failing Deeks and not living up to my end of the deal if I can’t give us a child. And who knows, maybe it is ultimately my fault and I’m not being so irrational after all. I mean, I work in a very physical job, have had my share of injuries, and am not exactly a spring chicken anymore. What the hell was I thinking waiting so long to decide to start trying for a baby? Why did we wait all those years to get together, to get engaged, to get married, to get pregnant? Oh, I know why—most of those things were put off because of the job (you know, Kensi, the one Deeks has been ready to leave for a few years now). If we’d started trying to get pregnant five years ago, would we have a family by now?
And what would today have been like if we did? Imagine if we already had kids while trying to find Kam—would I have beenable to concentrate at all or would I just want to be home holding and protecting them? Yet despite the mess of the world and the danger our jobs might bring to our family, I still want nothing more than to have children with Deeks. I have to have faith that no matter how, we’ll have them one day.
In the meantime, I hate that this is so difficult. I hate that it’s become so all-consuming. And I hate the way it’s making us feel. Deeks is right, I’m not okay. And I know he’s not okay. But I just needed to be not okay by myself for a little while longer before I could be not okay together with Deeks. Now that we’re home and I’ve spewed all my frustration into my journal, I think I can finally let it all out with him like I know he wants. And I’m sure we’ll both feel a little better for it.