(Ed. note: I’m venting here. Just roll with it.)
I started writing this post about two months ago. It was dark and ugly and, well, I should have just posted it because sometimes that’s the truth behind the feelings you get when you try (and fail) at getting pregnant. Part of me really did want to hit publish but after rereading it all seemed so jumbled, like the ramblings of the lady that hangs outside 7-11 or a toddler after a donut.
I guess I needed more time to get my head together.
Around that time I had six friends- SIX!- give birth over a 2 week period. No lie. SIX! How does that even happen? Then 2 weeks after that 3 more announced they were pregnant on facebook. That night I told the handsome other half that these 3 friends of mine were expecting and his response was “I’m sorry honey” and suddenly I was that girl.
I decided I needed a time out. A cease fire on my emotional well being. I took the month off. Like I took off everything having to do with babies (for the most part considering I still kept Audrey alive and never used the old headache trick). I packed away my OvaCue Fertility Monitor, no testing, no temps, no cervical mucus monitoring (eww), no calendars, no little hearts drawn around the expected date of ovulation on said calendar, no subsequent waiting and thinking every ache could be implantation pain… None. Of. It.
I feel like I’ve been pretty careful not to come off as a giant ungrateful “B”, and unless you follow me on Facebook, you would hardly even know all this is going on, but in my head, ugh, it’s not pretty sometimes and I am definitely not proud. It’s really hard sometimes to not feel alone, regardless of super supportive family members and a husband willing to do whatever you need him to. It’s hard not to feel like you’re the only barren womb on the block with all the bellies and babies everywhere you go. What I wouldn’t give to be exhausted with vomit on my shirt.
Recently I came across a post by Amy from Carriage Before Marriage on Huffington Post where she so accurately describes the everyday aches and pains of Secondary Infertility. The wanting to give your child the best gift in the world; a sibling- and failing. The baby shit all over your house that is crowding up your precious storage space and yet you refuse to give it up. (Seriously, don’t touch my crib.) And the guilt over being so sad regardless of the precious little person you already have. It was the most spot on piece I have ever read regarding this crapity situation and I highly recommend you reading it because I don’t do it justice and it’s better written than the nonsense you’re reading now.
I know this feeling is just a phase because this is not like me. I am the one that annoys the crap out of my husband because of my ‘it could be worse!’ attitude, just ask him. I know it’s just the holidays and the fact that I’ve researched a million adorable ways to announce you’re expecting at Christmas (Christmas card! How freaking cute is that?). And I know that God has a plan for me and my family. Everything in His time and all that.
My head knows all of this, just please explain it to my heart.
(PS, I am back on the fertility monitoring phase so stay tuned for the next edition of Trying To Make People where I show step-by-step how to use this handy little device.