Yesterday I had a pity party for one. The stress of last week was just too much. We had family in town, which was awesome, but the fertility side was a little brutal. I felt like we were pushed all over the place, filling out about a 100 pages of paperwork, planning out July for our next IVF and feeling like we were, once again, controlled by this process. I finally lost it yesterday, and spent most of the day crying and feeling sorry for myself. Sometimes, if I actually stop and think too much about our situation, I will cry. I think we all need those days. I am and always have been, a very positive person (thanks to my mama!!) Although our trials have seemed so big, I feel like I’m at a pretty good place mentally and emotionally right now, but geez, yesterday was brutal. No matter who you are, you are allowed to have those days. As long as you can get back up and appreciate what you have.
I had posted the following blog about a year and a half ago, on a fertility site I belong to. Last week, someone found this journal, and reached out to me, saying it’s exactly how she feels. Re-reading this reminded me of how far I/we have come. It hasn’t always been easy and it’s not easy today, either. But we are still moving forward, and that is what matters. If you had told me the day I wrote this journal, where I would be today, I probably would have just shriveled up and died. I am happy that I have taken it one day at a time, and somedays are so much easier than others. This gives you a glimpse of some of my hardest and most bitter days…..
“Can’t Buy Me Baby Love.
Whoever said money cant buy happiness, has clearly never done fertility. That’s what this crazy world has taught me. It’s like I am caught in this never ending game, and I just cannot win. Every single ounce of me is stretched so thin. Every piece of me has been fighting for too long. Life did teach me, that the harder you try, the more successful you can be. Wrong. Wrong again. I have never in my life tried so hard for something. Never. You would think my body and mind would get the drill and understand the game. But it doesn’t. Every single month, that unbearable stab of pain sneaks right into my bones again. It overtakes the whole me. The happy me disappears, and in comes this painful pit. That strong reminder that I cannot succeed. I’ve failed again. I’m a failure as a woman. And, I’m failing at the one thing I have wanted my whole life.
Even as a child, my life was babies. I loved my babies. I would rock them, feed them, dress them and love them. I was so happy as a little mommy. Looking back, perhaps that was the only time I’d get a chance to feel as if I were a mommy. That love was so strong, and I just couldn’t wait to grow up, and have a real baby of my own someday. That’s what a woman does. She becomes a mother. She gets to see her heart walking outside of her body, and love like never before. That’s why us women are here, right? That’s what I thought for 34 years.
The guilt that comes with this process is almost unbearable. How can I be so sad? Why am I so selfish? Why cant I be happy with my life? I hate the guilt. It makes me feel so selfish. I should appreciate what God has given me, but I want more. I want more so badly. Every inch of me wants more. I want to love so much it hurts. I want to see my heart outside my body. I want to make a difference in someone’s life, and be their everything. I want to give life. Is that too much to ask? I never thought it would be, but I’m finding it just may be.
Spring is here. Another season here, and another winter has gone. A time to start fresh. I used to believe that Spring would bring new life and happiness. I stopped believing that after being let down too many seasons. Tick. Tock. Will my season ever come?
I want to stop. I want to give up. I cannot play this game any longer. I don’t want another shot in my stomach or my ass. Talk about humiliating. I could scream if my husband has to pinch my stomach one more time, just to shoot me full of crazy hormones. I don’t want to have one more ultrasound where they tell me that once again my body has failed me, with no emotion. It’s so easy for them to just tell me the bad news. “Better luck next month, hon.” At what point do you stop believing in next month? How many damn months can I be the passenger on this train that keeps derailing? I feel like I’m in the midst of some cruel joke. Am I trying too hard for something I will never have? Should I give up? I cant. I just cant. Giving up would mean that I have accepted this shitty hand of cards. I wont. And, that is why I will keep trying. I want to rock my own baby to sleep at night. I want to be called mommy. I’d pay anything for my baby love. Is that too much to ask?”
My season has yet to come, but I still believe we are on the right path and our season WILL come, in time.