Kicking and Screaming Toward Spinsterhood

I don't want to be the spinster auntie. I want my own love, my own babies, my own. I've been nauseated lately and I've imagined someone suggesting an explanation for that: "maybe you're pregnant?" In the daydream my retort is stabbing -- I only WISH that were the reason for this gnawing at my being. If THAT were the reason, well, for one thing that would mean I'd had some sex, and sex would be good. Not only would sex be a good thing, but if I were pregnant, that would mean that at least some of the time my ovaries work properly! And that's a big question. For as long as anyone knows my ovaries have been hobbling along causing more pain than profit; for years they've been kept in line only by a severe regimen of foreign hormones, and WHO KNOWS what will happen if they're ever asked to perform their intended duties? Probably nothing at all but a lot of waiting and wishing. So being pregnant would indicate some level of ovarian functioning, which would be good. And not only would that be good, but that would mean that never would I be the spinster auntie, without my own love, my own babies, my own. And that is what I do not want to be. I'm not meant to be Auntie Em. I'm Somebody's Love, and Somebody's Mommy. But I sure as hell am not pregnant.