I feel so disconnected today. I can’t seem to set my mind towards anything. I just end up staring off into space for long periods of time. I haven’t even jumped in the shower yet. I’m still wearing the t-shirt I slept in, along with . . . wait for it . . . red and white candy cane pajama bottoms. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.
(Cue the Jeopardy music)
Aunt Flo seems to have missed my exit off of Interstate 53 and may be headed down to the warm Gulf waters and even brighter, sunnier weather. Which pisses me off ‘cause I need her here.
(Insert sound of Jeopardy music abruptly ending as I jerk the needle across the record in aggravation.)
A couple of my fellow bloggers recently entertained the question, “Would you go back to being the person you were before IF touched your life if you could?”
My vote? In a heartbeat.
We have spent a lot of money on this process and don’t appear any closer to actually creating life. If anything, I feel like we’re further away from it as problem after problem seems to crop with my defective girly parts.
As much as I love my friends, I feel a distance from them. Experience has shown me that talking to them about infertility leaves me open to hurtful and inappropriate, if well-meaning comments. They simply don’t get it, and how can they be expected to? Even if I take the time to educate them, which I will do at some point, they’ll never be able to truly understand unless they go through it themselves.
O and I have always been extremely close so I don’t think we’ve drawn together even more as a result of this process.
The “pause button” has been pushed on many other aspects of my life as we wait to see what’s going to happen.
What in the world are these hormones and drugs going to do to my body 10, 20, 30 years down the road?
It seems that I am now walking through a world filled with what I’ve termed “baby bombs”. I’m minding my own business in Target and BAM, there’s a Dad with a newborn on his shoulder. I get online and POW, that stupid Bachelorette girl and her husband are expecting. I go to dinner with my husband and ZAP, there is an apple-cheeked toddler waving at me over his shoulder. I go to pick up a prescription and BOOM, there’s a pregnant belly-rubber ahead of me in line. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t get to me sometimes.
I am so tired of being constantly reminded that my body doesn’t work properly.
I feel as if I have let O down. He doesn’t feel that way, but I do.
Sometimes I think it’s easier to just let a dream be a dream. If you pursue it and fail, that dream is gone forever. But if you keep it and hold it close to your heart, there’s always a chance that it might come true . . . someday. (I do realize that as we age, we all run out of “somedays” in this process.)
For much of my life, I have believed that I could accomplish anything I set my mind to. Anything I’ve ever REALLY wanted, I’ve found a way to make happen. This process has shown me very clearly that that’s not always going to be the case. It’s shaken my confidence.
Here’s where I interject a big BUT, though . . . Historically I can look back in my life and see that the times I struggled the most are also the times I've learned and grown and changed the most. Just because I can't see it at this very moment doesn't mean that a lot of wonderful things won't come from this. In fact, Wednesday revealed not one but FOUR of them!
The day prior, I had written to ask “K.”, a fellow blogger, a question about her IF treatment in hopes that she could shed some light on my own. What I received in response on Wednesday morning was the most wonderful, most generous e-mail I think I’ve ever received. She just poured out her heart and her story to me, sharing things that even people closest to her didn’t know. It helped me immensely. In her I found a kindred spirit and a sister in this fight. For the first time in this whole process, I felt less alone. So thanks again, K.! You are truly the BEST and whenever your baby decides to make an appearance, it will be one lucky kid!
In the midst of writing this post, I did actually take a shower and change out of my lovely candy cane pajama bottoms. As I was walking through our den I happened to glance out at the trees in the front yard and stopped dead in my tracks. We have an old crabapple tree that O.’s grandmother planted probably 50 years ago, and overnight it has burst into hundreds of beautiful pale pink blossoms. It reminded me that no matter how dark and cold and barren things can seem, life can be created in just a moment. Maybe, just maybe, my moment to create life is coming too.
Well, I'd best scoot along and try to do something productive with my day. And if y'all see my old cranky Aunt Flo lounging around on the beaches of Gulf Shores, throw her ass in the car and send her over here where she belongs. I paid $12 for her this month!
