Thursday, October 30, 2008
I called today about starting up round three and the doc wasn't in. He will call me tomorrow with my meds. This leaves me with no metformin though. During Halloween!!!!! Jerks! I'm gonna enjoy the day anyhow!
Halloween is a tough holiday for me. I love it. I love dressing up and enjoying the cool air. I love the pumpkins and that electric snap of fall that floats around. Most of all, I love seeing the fun that the kids have as they dress up and parade around taking full advantage of the opportunity to pretend to be someone else for a day. Since being married, I haven't been able to make it through one single Halloween without tears. This year will be very hard. Finding out two days before that all of our hopes have once again been crushed and put on hold will make seeing all of their rosey little cheeks and hearing their squeals of delight so hard to take.
We had considered shutting our door this year, but I can't bear to do it. We have before. All it did was amplify the emptiness in our own home as the laughter floated in from the children outside. Hubby will be here this year which is a first, and hopefully he will have as much fun as I do. I am going to allow myself to be sad and I have given myself permission to cry anytime I want to.
I've not been this sad about a cycle in a long time and I am having a really difficult time with the tears. Last night I was watching a television show and tears started pouring down my face. It had nothing to do with the show. I think my mind just wandered and my heart needed a release. Getting out of bed the past two days has been agony. I didn't want to go to school and see all the kids. It hurt too much. I wanted to just curl up in a dark corner of our room and cry every last tear I had.
I know that isn't the thing to do though. Truth is, as hard as it is to be around the kids during a time like this, I need them so much. They really do help heal my heart. Most of the time they don't realize that their love gets me through a day. A hug, a simple offer to help, the way their faces light up when I come into their class; it lifts me up and helps me move on.
This was month number 70 for us. We have been fighting this battle that long. I'm sick of it. I just don't want to do it anymore. The anxiety, fear, disappointment, hope, waiting, it is all just too much. But just as I start to give up, I imagine a life without any tiny face looking up at me and my heart starts pounding loudly in my ears. I just can't allow my heart to go there. Someway, there must be a child in our lives.
I will go out today and restock my cabinet with Al.ways and Tamp.ax. I will buy candy and finish up my Halloween costume, eager to surprise my kids tomorrow. In between school and trick or treating, I will pick up prescriptions and prepare my body and heart for another go at this mess. And then I will fill my face with chocolate and pout as I look towards month 71.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
This is month 70 in our ttc journey.
Friday will mark 14dpo. Halloween, how appropriate.
Every time I think about it, I become nauseous. I just can't deal with it. The sense of dread I have is suffocating me and I want to hide away from it all right now. The idea of facing another diappointment is too much to bear, but my heart won't allow me to think about the possibilities lest I have a hopeful moment.
This time around, the symptoms have been more pronounced, but I know that is more likely because my body is cooperating for once. I get nauseous and the girls are off limits to everyone, including air, and when possible, my bra. I am tired and I pee a lot (could just be the tea). There are lots of bloating, crampy, achy feelings "in there." I can sense autie flo hiding out in the bushes just waiting to pounce on all of my dreams once again, cackling as she settles in for a week of emotional torture.
Speaking of emotional torture... My first go with Clomid, I was pleasantly surprised to have slipped under the wire with the crankiness and mood swings. This time... not so lucky. There aren't any mood swings really, and I am not cranky or crabby with any particular people or events. I'm just in this funk. Some of it may be attributed to the whole waiting game, but not all of it. I feel almost like I am getting a bug or the flu kind of and I am in this weird funk of a mood. Then of course some adorable commercial comes on or someone says something to me and I melt into tears. I'm not a teary person and it gets sort of frustrating. However...
I would live in weepy tears for the entire time, I would welcome any and all nausea, bloating, cramping, and funk. I would embrace my sore girls with glee and nap my way through the fatigue. If...
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Lately I find myself muttering things to myself, trying to explain why we haven't had our child yet. I know deep down that whether or not I have a large grandiose palace or a simple cozy apartment has nothing to do with my inability to conceive. Still, it helps I guess to imagine a world in which finding the correct combination in life is all it takes to open any lock. If Hubby loses a job or an unexpected bill comes up, I shrug with a sad "So, that was why it didn't work this time."
It wouldn't be so bad I suppose if I didn't follow up these thoughts with careful preparation and irrational fear that something will go wrong during a cycle causing the cosmic forces to stamp a big red "Denied" on my file once again. I plot and plan, wondering that perhaps we need a better car or bigger apartment. Maybe if I am a better person or discover the secrets to parenting, things will fall into place. Perhaps we just need to pick the right name or come to an agreement about a certain moral or value.
These thoughts have created a nasty cycle that leaves me feeling like a racing dog chasing the mechanical rabbit. I run as hard and fast as I can trying to outwit and snag an uncatchable target. I am left defeated, a lump of heartbroken tears. The sense of failure is suffocating sometimes and I find it hard to get up and try once more. I think Hubby has fallen victim to this a time or two as well. Once in a while a comment such as "Well, if it works this time do you think we can..." slips out and both of us sit there in an awkward fearful silence, praying that no one "up there" heard that and pulled out the big red stamp. Hubby teeters between "You shouldn't be so negative, it will seem as if we don't want one" and "Don't get all cocky and get your hopes up, you'll jinx it."
The feelings of failure and frustration lead us right back to the beginning as we wonder what we did wrong this time. "We were so sure and our timing was perfect. We prayed so hard and hoped so much. How could we have failed? It must be something we aren't doing right..." and thus the cycle continues.
I am battling demons with this cycle. We know that I ovulated this time and for once we are certain that our timing was great. I try to find a balance between hope and our track record. I want so much for things to work. I avoid looking at baby things, but at the same time I go out of my way when shopping to pass slowly by that department, wistfully looking in on a world that has locked me out.
Only time will tell of course. It seems that the only thing an infertile ever truly gets to do is wait. We wait to start and wait to try again. Maybe just maybe we found the combination this time...
The link for my shop is over in the side bar and here.
I also have an email address finally that is specifically for the blog!
fracturedrainbows at bellsouth dot net
Monday, October 20, 2008
This being said, I was talking to her during lunch break today about some random kid funniness, and she piped in completely off topic with, "You really have lost some weight." I never missed a beat and without thinking I popped in with "Oh that's the clomid. I winced, anticipating a lecture but instead she excitedly started talking about how quickly her weight dropped once my youngest sibling was born and the doctor could give her medication to throw her into a false menopause.
It's true. When pregnant, my mother lost forty pounds with me. Here's the kicker. I was an eleven pound baby! When her regular hormones had to kick back in, so did her weight struggle. Same thing happened with my sister and brother too (although they did not compare to my gargantuan size!). A couple of years after my brother was born I remember one summer that my mother dropped weight so quickly that people were concerned about her. She had no worries though. She felt better than she had for most of her adult life. After her hysterectomy, her body started doing what it should and she has said ever since that it was the best decision she ever made.
I have dropped about 15 pounds in the last couple of weeks. My skin and hair glow and my body just feels in sync. I have only been in this place a handful of times. It is such a rarity to feel like things are working properly and truth be told it is rather decadent. I am a bit sad to know that this is a short term thing for now and I dread the days of bloating and blotchy skin that will soon follow.
Right now I think I am just going to enjoy it and pray that my skin and waistline aren't the only things working the way they should. Oh how I pray. And wait...
Saturday, October 18, 2008
This is a picture of the whole set. All 22! I can't believe how vibrant their colors are after so many years!
As we looked through the books that day, my grandmother sought out this pattern and then joyfully dug out a beautiful and delicate pair of slippers that she made. She still wears them sometimes around the house.
I absolutely adore the hat and purse patterns! I think I will have to use these patterns to make a few things if and when I ever get a little shop going.
Another picture of some of the fashions of the 50's. I got a kick out of the flowery sandals! Alicia would love these for her Friday shoe showcase!
So, that's it. I hope you had as much fun with them as I did. You should go check in at Mel's and see what else the class is showing today!
I left a cute little note for Hubby to "wake me up" when he got home and I got some rest. Today, just as if someone had beaten my sweet little ovaries into submission, pain followed me everywhere all day. I think we have ovulatory success ladies! I even think I clucked once or twice!
As I sat down to eat dinner tonight the reality sank in. I am on Day 29. Is there hope? Have I been sitting on the nest too long? I am praying with urgent desperation and I could use any positive experiences with this. The Goo.gl.emeister is not very encouraging about this, but I know my doc told me that late ovulation is a normal thing with Clomid and PCOS.
I guess we wait...
Friday, October 17, 2008
I haven't talked much about round 2 simply because there isn't much to say this time. I knew what to expect with clomid this round and I was settled in and prepared to face the worst. It hasn't been terrible yet.
I had a couple of days with some pretty severe migraines.
I have had a bit of ovarian action (so I assume) but I can't tell you exactly what has happened and I didn't take the obsessive time to write it down in red this time either.
Nausea... This bothered me so much last time and this time it has come and gone. In the beginning it was rather icky but tapered off and now it has ramped up again.
I have been tired this time but I have also been working. It has been a really busy time of the year too so perhaps I am just tired. Hubby did make a comment yesterday about my increase in sleep, but I always do that before af and I have been on fall break so who knows?
I don't get that moody on this stuff. I know some people do but for me, other than a bit of weepiness here and there, I stay pretty mellow. Infact, I have to say, I think my moods have been better.
I have lost seven pounds in the past two weeks. An unexpected but welcomed side effect!
Dreams... Weird. I did this last time too, so I know it is a side effect. One of those that the doc will never admit to. My dreams are so vivid and bizarre. Hubby has been having a lot of fun laughing at me and shaking his head in disbelief at some of the things my unconscious self thinks up.
The "girls" are sore. They have been since day seven I think. I can put up with it for the most part, but I'm not sure poor hubby is doing so well!
The hot flashes. OMG! I saved the best for last. I don't know why, but I feel like my skin has been roasted slowly over an open flame whilst tribal dancers sing chants and wave sticks at me. Mostly, I have problems with my feet. I seriously sit some nights with ice packs on my feet. If anyone has any advice about this please let me know! It has started getting cooler and I am still walking around barefoot, loving the feel of the cold grass or floor on my feet.
That's really about it. Emotionally, I'm just here right now. I know in the next few days my anxiety will rise and I will start wondering a bit more about things, but at this point in the game I just don't have a whole lot to give to either side of the coin. I pray, hope, dream, and wish, but my battle scars are starting to burn a bit too.
Like always, time will tell...
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
It was amazing!
As I left town the street lights and buildings gave way to miles of fences and grazing cows. I bobbed my head to the song on the radio and like always, found myself slowing down to soak up the country sun. My senses came alive as I followed the familiar path and time stood still while I stepped back to revisit my childhood.
I passed the house that my grandfather had remodeled years ago. The backyard once held a cute little red house with a ramp and several goats hopping from the top of the ramp to greet you as you approached.
A bit further down and I drove passed a ghost of a house that dad and I used to visit. The lady that once lived there had a gorgeous garden that was often overtaken by rodents and pests. We used to go out and help her "clean up" the only way my country boy dad knew how. Afterwards, she would treat us to some fresh lemonade or tea and tell us about the land stretching out beyond us. I slowed a bit more, sadly remembering her last years. Her sons had banished her to a tiny house across the street that was falling apart as they sold off hundreds of acres and a gorgeous plantation style home as well as every fork and spoon they could find. She happily planted a tiny garden and went on as if nothing had changed.
I rounded yet another curve and slowed to a crawl watching the fields of hay wave in the gleaming sunlight like a sea of gold anxious to be cut. As the hay rippled back and forth in the wind, an image of a tiny hand held in my own flooded my mind. I imagined her skipping as ribbons held back wispy pigtails. I smiled and a single tear found its way down my cheek.
As I continued, I crept passed Crawfish Pond, remembering my trepidation and delight at catching my first crawfish in a bucket with my aunt and uncle on a sunny summer afternoon. I felt the hot tears slip silently down my face overcome with fear, hope, and sadness all at once. These were my roots. I loved this road and the stories that it told. I cling to the stories my grandmother told me about my mother as we made our way through woodsey trails to pick berries or admire wildlife.
Once at my grandmother's house, we relived so many fond childhood memories. There were toys and books lovingly hidden for us to treasure on rainy days. I feel so blessed to have the opportunity to appreciate all of these things but my heart is so heavy. I have no one to share these things with. The stories can go no further without a child to spin tales for.
I put the key in the slot and backed down the drive for home. My heart ached for a child to laugh with on the ride home. It was filled with sadness and emptiness, but as I drove past the dark shadows of my memories my heart was warmed with hope and determination that I would be back some day with a child of my own to weave tales for.
This is why we push on and keep trying.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Yesterday, one such situation came up and I have decided that we need to throw up a plea for a girl if at all possible. I hope you all understand that Hubby and I will be eternally grateful for any child we might receive and I would love either boy or girl unconditionally and with every fiber of my being. This was just a fun thought yesterday that has helped me giggle through a tough waiting period.
One of the kiddos in my nursery class on Sunday has just started potty training. Last week was his first attempt with big boy pants and we did great. That night our other nursery worker was sick and so I went in for her. Kiddo had to go potty but would only let Miss Arian take him. Up to this point the only experience I had with potty training was my little brother when I was nine years old and my mother, frustrated at his nonchalance and contentment to live in diapers for the rest of his days, carted him off to grandma's house. He came back two weeks later fluent in toilet talk. I approached the situation that night with a bit of trepidation, but in the end we both walked out in triumph.
So, yesterday when he exhibited signals of potty distress, I confidently took him by the hand and headed to the potty. I walked with my head high and certain that I had already mastered the art of potty training and could face any obstacle....
All of you toddler parents out there are laughing hysterically right now aren't you? Go on. Get it out of your system. I'll wait.... Ok....
Kiddo and I walk in and he points to the little potty seat on the floor. I shrug and think, well sure why not. The last time we had used that little cushiony attatchment to the big potty, but what's the difference? He gets situated on the tiny seat sideways and I reach to help him turn around more towards the front. I thought I had plenty of time. The last time I had used the sound of running water from the sink to get things started. Surprise!
No big deal. Kiddo knows to hold it down in the potty and he truly tried. This potty was about twenty years old I'm afraid and the person that designed this particular one had about as much experience with potty training a boy as I did! We got a tiny bit on his pants but I quickly pulled them down and over his shoes to avoid any catastrophes and then it started!
It was like a tiny fire hose out of control! It went everywhere. Said two year old thought this was hilarious and distressing at the same time and tried to stand up hollering "Big potty big potty" as he attempted to move over to the big potty which did not have the little seat attached yet. I scrambled to shield the flood, keep kiddo sitting, and situate the big potty seat. I finally got the seat fixed and plopped kiddo down quickly on the seat grabbing his arm and helping him hold that crazy sprinkler into the appropriate receptacle!
There was pee everywhere! I never imagined that much pee coming from such a tiny person but oh my goodness! The floor, the wall, my shoes, his shoes, both potties, everywhere! I managed to clean it up and empty what little content actually made it into the mini potty. Kiddo reached to flush and laughed with glee as the water swirled saying proudly "I make wots of water! Wook!"
Everything was great until we got back into class. As I said, he had managed just a tiny dribble on his shorts so I figured I would change him. His mom and dad have tried to encourage him by saying "Diapers are nasty" and "Big boy pants are nasty when they get wet." As I lay him down to change his shorts, he put his hand up to his forehead and wailed with the most sorrowful, pained expression, "Ohhhh Noooo! I nasty! Ohhh noooo!" I tried to keep a straight face as I praised him for going in the potty and told him that he had done good and that it wasn't his fault that we changed him. He hopped down and trudged over to the blocks unconvinced.
I felt so guilty and I have vowed to do better next week, determined to help kiddo master this potty thing and learn a thing or two along with him for our someday children. Hopefully we will all come through this unscarred and successful at making water!
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Anyway, on to a show and tell....
(Ha! You thought that was my show and tell didn't you?!?!)
I like to browse and ramble in this little store down the road from the house sometimes. I usually go there to get some of my cleaning and bathroom supplies and I love to take some time to check out the odds and ends they have in there.
I've been looking at this little hanging since early spring and I always pass it up. It wasn't expensive but I just never could bring myself to pick it up. I saw it every single week though. It got to the point that I would seek it out without realizing what I was doing until I was looking right at it. It is a very simple little thing and I have no true need for it. Still, I was drawn to it.
I went yesterday to the same store to kill time while Hubby slept and of course, there it was. There was only one left this time and it had been marked down to thirty cents. I brushed it off twice before I found myself wanting to see it one more time in case someone bought it before my next trip. I realized how silly I was being and I picked it up. I didn't realize until I was in the car how attatched to it I had become. I felt like I had gotten a special treasure and I couldn't wait to get home and hang it up.
I've been thinking a lot lately about this cycle and this little hanging says so much about our lives right now. I hung it on the wall right beside our bedroom door so that I can see it from where I sleep and both Hubby and I will walk by it numerous times a day. Hubby saw it once I hung it and immediately picked up on all of the reasons why it was so perfect for us.
It has the word "hope" on it. I know that seems like an obvious word choice for a couple headed into their 6th year of infertility, but hope is also the meaning of our girl name choice if we ever do get pregnant. I also think if we ever did get pregnant our child would definitely signify lots of hope for our lives and future. The rainbow makes me smile each time I look at it and I feel a bit brighter.
I watched an episode of Op.rah a few months back and she was talking about a "vision board." Now, I'm not one to think that by pasting a picture of a new car on my wall I will somehow magically find myself sitting in the driver's seat, but I do think that positive thoughts and reminders are helpful when you are working so hard for something. Someday, this is going to look beautiful in our baby girl's bedroom!
***I need to say a quick thank you to Kristin! As you can see, my memory card is working again and thanks to her I didn't lose a single picture!
Now, Go and check out the rest of the class!
Friday, October 10, 2008
I'm so lonely for what Hubby and I long for. Our relationship has grown so much in the past few months and our love has changed. It is a much deeper love now. I feel like we have reached a new level or step and it is wonderful to feel that safe and warm love I have for him. It is amazing to be able to exchange a look across a crowded room and speak volumes to one another. Still, there is a void. Neither of us talk about that place in our lives. We avoid it and work so hard to keep it covered up or hidden from sight. Lately, I have seen in my husband's eyes, that desire that I feel so deeply.Our journey has scarred us both. It may be invisible to everyone else but sometimes when our eyes meet, I see a mirror of my pain and I lose my breath. Most often we share a look that says "I know" and try to move on quickly to something else.
I realize that our journey is far from over and I get frustrated with myself because I have so much grief about this. I want a child so much. My desire bubbles up from the deepest parts of my being now. It is no longer a hope or wish upon a star. I yearn for and need a child to feel complete. It makes me feel guilty to hang on so tightly to these feelings.
Hubby and I should be having the time of our lives. We can go do whatever we want, whenever we want barring work schedules. We live in a great place with few bills and simple wants and needs. Our families are caring and loving and close. We have two adorable pups to keep us company and entertain us. Why can't that be enough? Why can't we just shrug it off and be comfortable with the way things are? I feel like we are selfish sometimes, like we can't be happy with the many wonderful blessings we do have.
On nights like tonight, as I sit here alone in the quiet with soft music in the background, I imagine what it would be like with a baby sleeping in a crib beside me. I close my eyes and picture a rocking chair in the corner and happy little grunting noises as I nurse my baby back to sleep. Every single time, tears flood my eyes and my heart.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
I guess I should tell you a bit about him before we go any further. We found Oz trapped as a tiny kitten under a cardboard compactor unit at one of the jobs I worked at. Once we finally caught him (it took over a week!) I agreed to take him home with me. He had not been exposed to people at all and hid for a couple of months but over time he became the best kitty I have ever had! He was so funny and he and Parker were real pals. We named him Oz because he was the boss. He demanded things like most cats and would tell Parker what to do. Plus, he liked to hide behind things and attack the dogs!
When we moved here and stayed at mom and dad's for a while he started slipping outside with their cat and sitting on the rock wall in the front yard. He loved it out there and eventually would come and beg to go out. It was so cool because this was a cat that at one time ventured outside at our old place and was frightened into the shed behind the land lord's chicken coop. He almost starved to death because he was afraid to walk 15 feet to our front door for over two weeks. I finally had to use a Humane Society trap to catch him and bring him inside.
Anyhow, when we moved to our own place I just hated the thought of forcing him to be an inside only cat again. He loved it so much outside and the other family cat had just died. I decided to leave him with Mom and Dad so he would be happier, knowing I could visit him any time I wanted to.
He always knew when "mama" came to visit. He would run up and beg for food or love and then curl up in my lap like always. He would only curl up in my lap or my brother's lap. Everyone else would feel privillaged to pet him as he walked by their chair.
I asked Mom today if he had come home yet and while sitting at the lunch table with ten other people she quietly told me that Oz wasn't going to come home. My daddy found him and didn't want to hurt any of us so he lovingly buried him and finally told my mom one afternoon that she needed to stop calling him. He said "It hurts the same every time I have ever told you something like this and I can't stand it. Honey, no amount of looking or calling will bring Ozy home." She told me not to tell my brother. She hates to see him cry. I wanted to yell at her.
He was my kitty. I know I had to leave him there but one of the main reasons was the fact that I couldn't bear to take him from them when they had just lost their own kitty. It hurts me that she didn't think it would bother me as much as my brother. I know she didn't mean to hurt me but she did. I know that she had talked to another teacher about him but didn't want to tell me either because she knew it would upset me.
I guess I feel like I did as a kid when they finally told me the truth about teeth and bunnies and such. I would rather go on believing he was lost than to know what really happened and I think part of me is a bit angry at her for telling me. The grown up part realizes what a horrible burden that must be to carry around and I know she was just trying to do the best thing she knew to do.
She probably thought back to the puppy I had as a little kid. Mom had gotten a puppy the same day Dad had gotten one for us. They had discussed getting one and through a very cool coincidence we ended up with two. Before they could get shots and stuff, they contracted parvo and one puppy died. A few days later my little beagle disappeared and they just said he was gone. Up until I was in high school I thought he had just run away. Mom finally just told me one day that I had misunderstood her when she said "gone" and that she hadn't had the heart to correct me.
It hurts so much to know I will never see him again. It is hard to connect with because I didn't get to see him every day but the pain is there nonetheless. I thought I would post a pic of him on here so you all could see how gorgeous he was but I can only find video of him right now ( oh yeah did I mention that my camera's memory card was zapped yesterday when the power went off several times in a row while it was plugged into my computer? UGH!). I'm going to miss him so much and so is my family.
I would love to be able to write about "Then vs Now" but I'm just not feelin it. My first posts were in no way my first dealings with our journey for a child and they obviously weren't the last. I will have to say, that looking back I had more hope and looked forward to a happy ending with fewer clouds blotting out the dream. I know more now and I understand my body better. I have acknowledged that there is a possibility I may never have a child biologically and I think I have come to terms with the ickiness that is infertility.
There is one thing that has changed. It has given me a ray of sunshine and a warm, cushioned place for the painful parts of my journey. You. You all have meant so much to me and I feel like I have an amazing support group that I can go to and complain about the silliest or darkest times. We can laugh and cry and shout together.The happier times are happier and the dark times aren't so dark. I love you all and I thank you for being with me and Hubby through this. I am thankful for the opportunity to share in your lives as well through your blogs and experiences.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Oct 3rd marked 10 years since my attack. Most years I can navigate the week of my "versary" fairly well without any obvious scars. This year I guess because of the rounded number and my big steps, things are much more difficult. I'm very private with my grieving and mention this date to no one. My husband doesn't even know when the date is. I feel like I need that for myself. I don't need to share that day with anyone else.
Hubby went to work last night leaving me alone with my demons. I was anxious and restless. I stayed up for a long time listening and waiting. The pups never left my side and we finally fell asleep, exhausted as we counted down the minutes until Hubby got home.
It has been a long time since I have been in this place and I am caught off guard. I'm not really sure what to do with all of these feelings and emotions I have. I've always wished that I had a place where I could visit and grieve, a sort of gravesite or memorial site for the person I lost that night.
Several people have mentioned that by speaking out I can find closure and let go. It doesn't work that way. At least not for me. I can't just forget or let go of the pain I experienced. I know they don't understand and I always allow them that, but inside, their words bother me. I have to allow myself to feel what I need to feel during this time and their talk of closure and finality is scary for me. I don't want to forget. I don't want to close the door. I want to open it wide open and hopefully help someone else through my experience. I want people to know it happens and that it is not ok. It isn't just a number or statistic in a police department filing cabinet. I am not a number.
So today, I encourage you to visit RAINN's site. Explore and learn. Arm yourself with information and tools not only for yourself but for those around you that may have been or God forbid will be affected.
Then head over to Mel's for a Happy Show and Tell day!
Friday, October 3, 2008
Most of the things I was angry about belonged to me and only me. I'm angry about my body and its inability to work the right way. I can't really control that and I have moved past the point of anger with it. I just could not spare any extra energy for anger or grumpy feelings that day. It sort of surprised me and I tried to internally explore that for a while as I went to sleep.
I found that I have replaced (at least for now) my anger with sadness. It isn't that weepy sorry for myself sadness (although we all need those times for ourselves too). This is more of a deep blue brooding sort of sad like the sky as it darkens before a storm. It is a quiet sad. When I visit there I just find myself wanting to sit there and be.
There are times when seeing a pregnant person sends a spike of pain into my heart. I find myself angry with the world or hollowed out and empty. I hear a baby laugh and my feet are stuck motionless to the floor as a flood of feelings wash over me. I still have these times, but lately the feelings I have go so much deeper than that. It is hard for me to explain but that primitive ache in my heart for a baby isn't enough. There is this feeling of incomplete down deep inside. I feel like I am not as much of a woman as I should be. I feel inadequate and unfulfilled. I not only grieve the lack of a child now but the right to have one. It is like Mother Nature has given me a stamp of unapproval or unworthiness to mother.
I know that this isn't truly the case. But I can't shake that nagging voice that wonders why I wasn't chosen to be a mom. My heart is breaking. Each time someone asks if I have children I feel Mother Nature's stamp glow on my forehead as I struggle to eek out an answer that hopefully hides the despair in my voice.
I see the same clouds etched into Hubby's eyes now. He has caught up to me and our relationship has changed so much through this experience. We are very close and we hug a bit longer than most couples our age. We hold hands and find joy in simple unspoken moments that many our age take for granted. As we watch a neighbor's child toddle in the yard I know without looking at him that I will find a reflective pool in his eyes matching that of my own. We are able to brush hands and exchange a flood of feelings without a single glance or whisper.
I had hoped that we would find Round 2 with a renewed hope and vigor to fight. I am surprised that both of us have entered the same fighting ring hand in hand quiet and thoughtful. I think part of that had to do with the way we came about this cycle. It was more of a "Let's get your body under control again" than a "Hey let's try to have a baby" type thing. The symptoms are more pronounced and exaggerated this time around. I get sick and exhausted. My hot flashes will melt other peoples' shoes off their feet and my throbbing migraines have been flagged for their seismic activity. Hubby is right behind me this time. Each time I turn to look he surprises me with a hand at my back for support. We stand on the top of the hill in the midst of the storm holding each other up unable to retreat or move forward.
As we stand there with the winds whipping and swirling around us we share one unspoken word....