In a hole

I am working on the end of the third week of a very brutal and carnage filled period. It has been scary and almost unbearable. As I round the corner into week four with Progesterone in hand and anger in my heart I feel like I have lost my desire. I'm afraid. I'm afraid that life and infertility have kicked my butt.

A few months ago hubby and I suffered some pretty traumatic things in our marriage. There were misinterpretations on everyone's part and it planted a seed of mistrust I'm afraid. In the midst of this hubby went through two jobs and financially it hurt. It also became very clear as gas prices soared, that without a miracle his normal hour and a half commute one way was out of the question. This knocked out a lot of great paying opportunities. It was just costing us too much and we had been knocked too far down. It's ok. We compromised, changed some things, removed others, and decided we needed to try harder. It is getting better. We are digging our way back up.

Still, the damage was done. During all of that turmoil I was very sick. I'm not ignorant to the idea that the amount of stress our lives were under had a lot to do with it. The migraines were horrible and that became our priority. Our efforts to have a child were swept under the rug. It was like something we just exchanged knowing looks over and turned away. It hurt too much and there were so many other things on the surface. Sitting in a different place now, I feel that the absence of a child and the struggle to have one had a lot to do with our problems individually and together.

My husband may tell you differently perhaps. I don't think he wants to think about those times though. I had to. My everyday life is entangled in the goings on of my uterus and all those other parts. When they don't work the rest of my body doesn't work either. I had to take time to examine what had happened. I can see how infertility caused these things to manifest in our marriage. It scares me that I may not see those signs a second time, but at least I know.

With all of that being said as I sit here leaking out precious pints, I find myself terrified to try again. The desire to have a child? Oh my, that is still an unbelievable ache in my heart. It used to be an ache that drove me on though. It has become something that just aches. I want to hide from it and push it away. I could be on clomid right now trying for the millionth time, but I feel like I have fallen too many steps down and I can't find the energy to climb back up and start again. I don't feel like we have gotten half as far as we should, and from down here our starting place looks so far from where we hope to get.

I have a couple of weeks at least until my body can regenerate and I find myself in a place where I can consider our options. In reality I don't have to decide anything right now. I feel like it would eat at us though to have that hanging over our heads. There is no doubt that I want to continue to try, but at what point do you have to say enough is enough? Where do you start digging to unearth your passion to keep going.

Being in this place is like falling into a deep hole while walking through a vast empty plain during a bitter snow storm. You know in order to survive you have to climb out and keep going. The hole protects you from the freezing winds and painful cold. You get a false sense of security. The idea of crawling out and facing that storm is a terrifying and dreadful one. Finding the motivation to go back out there is almost as bad as being there in the first place.

I'm going to climb out of this. Hubby and I are going to climb out. We will press on I am sure but nothing can erase the scars and callouses that infertility has scrawled into our hearts.