This weekend I had a few downs. For no “good” reason(other than the overarching one, of course…). I didn’t hear any crappy results from anything, I’m not in any pain, nothing really should be bringing me down. But I had another taste of The Fear. I am very good at imaging worst-case scenarios. I have conjured up scene after scene in my head about each of the upcoming holiday days, and what they may be like. And in mind, they always hurt. I don’t want to be pitied by people, but I don’t want things glossed over. I don’t want to be a downer for the holiday spirits of celebratory family members and friends, but I also may not want to be celebrating myself. Sometimes I feel like if I could just shut this sad part of me down, I could just be happy and joyful and not even think about it at all. But then I think, why? Why close down the sadness that always sits here in my heart? It is part of my experiences these past few years. Holidays always cause me to reflect a lot about the previous year. I get ANGRY and SAD when I think about this past year in terms of fertility. I want to shake someone or something, and ask why, why why. I hate being jealous. I hate being envious. I hate being full of self-hatred–hatred for the fact that I have this problem, that I cost my husband so much monetarily because of this, that I have all that jealousy and envy and whymeness. I want to curl up in a room with my husband and son, and just be with them, because they are the only ones that really get what it’s all about. With the exception of this last converted cycle, I have always been a good responder. A good fertilizer. A good lining-grower. Always made it to day fives, with some to freeze. Annoying pause for a recap: (Baby two, take one, was a fail ( that could be the odds. Or the fever I had for 24 hours after the transfer). Baby two, take two, was a miscarriage of twins (I had enough blood pooled in my abdomen post-retrieval to supply a local ER for a while, and then my body had to recover from that as well as nourish twins. Coincidence, or…?) Baby two, takes three and four (cancelled due to dr error, then failed FET). Baby two, take five (converted to IUI) Baby two, take six (cancelled due to elevated FSH). So why don’t I have that baby yet? Even with my diagnosed issues, a baby should not be out of my reach. Yet it feels like it is. Now here is the scary part: part of me thinks this is the one. And that is really SCARY. To let yourself think this may be the one. To admit that you think this might be the one. Because what happens if…?
I have found myself talking to God a lot these days. Out loud, even. I’ve mentioned before how my faith has certainly faltered, and I am nothing like the church-going, pious Catholic I once was. But this past week, I have been having quite a few one-sided conversations with God. Asking Him to please help relieve me of this sadness and this burden. Asking Him to make sure He is certain I have the strength for another failure, if that is how it is going to end up. But also, I have broken the Cardinal Prayer Rule–I’ve been asking for this cycle to be It. I’ve asked Him to please, reflect on the hurt and sadness I’ve already experienced, and to take it into account going forward. I’ve asked Him if He thinks the experiences of the past several years have led to me to a place He wants me to be, and now, finally, I am ready to be pregnant…For keeps. I know God doesn’t “operate” that way, because there are a whole lot of terrifying, awful, sad, catastrophic things in this world that make my own hardships seem minute in comparison. But I can’t help myself. I am reaching for anything and everything, and I guess I kind of hope God will remember our old relationship, and take that into account. I don’t know. I know it is grasping at straws, but I am afraid that’s all I can do right now.
My small, sweet family is the light of my life. I know this so completely. So please, God, help me leave the darkness behind.
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