I am always learning, always growing. I am on constant alert for the lessons which life gifts. The newest lesson is Fertility and my husband's painful diagnosis of NOA. However difficult it may be, my husband and I are on a mission to conceive, starting with homeopathic remedies and medical intervention if necessary. With all of the anguish and shock, I have fully (and finally!) embraced all of my jealousy issues I never wanted to admit I had. 

"Daddy issues" is a stereotype I never wanted. I grew up with a single mother, I already carried one stereotype, certainly, I didn't need one more. Not until my late 20's did I realize that I might just have what all those people talk about. I might have issues and they may stem from my childhood and the lack of a father. 


When I thought of "daddy issues" I thought of a stripper or a promiscuous woman. I thought of someone who needs and fiends for male attention, at least that is what stereotypes taught me.
I grew up not respecting men, bundling them into one group of negative, hurtful, selfish creatures. I didn't know how a relationship with a man was supposed to be and so I was never interested. I watched my friends become promiscuous or let boys break their hearts. Those things did not interest me. Sure, I was able to make male friends and have boyfriends, but I always looked down on them. They were the weaker sex.

I lived in a strange world of denial and fear, years of numbness. When you're listening to music, but you turn the volume all the way down instead of shutting the music off. The song is still playing but you can't hear it. That's what it was like. I would see girls with their fathers and I would wonder, "What's that like," with a sharp sting which followed the vanishing moments of curiosity. 
Then I became a young adult and began the typical pattern we all go through or watch from a distance. The Makeup-breakup routine. 

After years of self-destruction, I took a step back to grow, mature, and became vulnerable,  allowing myself to feel, I could recall when there was a level of jealousy, a feeling that I never wanted to feel. I remembered keeping my jealousy a secret from everyone, including myself. If I felt my jealousy, not only would my friends know that I was lacking something, I would know. I was so jealous it hurt, but I could turn it off.

Until I followed the terrifying path of truth. 

During the time I began writing my memoir, I slowly and painfully erased "stereotype" from my vocabulary as well as the judgmental mindset which I prolonged. While completing my book I decided to write back to my father's first letter I had received seven years prior. Increased communication over the years allowed me to become less fearful and more excepting. I chose a controlled level of communication, surrendering to what is and what never was. I felt myself kneel down to a hire self-awareness, a hire being within and outside of me. 

With that said, I am jealous, of fertile men and the women they get pregnant. I am jealous of cribs and onesies. I am jealous of moms who are tired and fathers who miss their free time. I am jealous of Trick or treating and leaving cookies out. I am jealous of the old me who never wanted children and the new me who does. I am jealous and I am so happy I can share my jealousy with the world.