So, Thanksgiving was not at all as hard as I thought it would be. I had one moment of needing to "flee the scene" to go downstairs and cry a little, but other than that it wasn't that bad. My sister-in-law (one of the ones that is not preggers) took me shopping the day after Thanksgiving, and we had a blast. She got me to open up about how I'm feeling and was very supportive, I think that must've helped a lot. She didn't make a deal out of K (which is what I'll call my sis-in-law who is preggers) being pregnant and me not. She just asked how I was doing, and did it in private which was wonderful. I really didn't want to take away from K's joy of having a baby.
I have been seized lately, with a very calm peace and hope for this next month. A very peaceful pregnancy hope that I am scared to really take as my own. I am afraid I won't be and afraid of the emotional fall out from it. But, I can't help grabbing a hold of it, truthfully. I was looking at baby books today for K and her husband J, and I saw one that I really wanted to get for my husband; in fact a set that I imagined would be great to wrap up and put under the tree to surprise him with us finally being pregnant (like I could really hold out that long from telling him though!) I ordered a book called "The Fertility Diet" by Jorge E. Chavarro, MD, ScD and Walter C. Willett, MD, DrPH; and so far it's pretty interesting. I already chart my fertility signs (a process called Fertility Awareness; which I highly recommend looking at), and this looks like it will go right along with it. I recommend the the book, it's really straightforward and well researched so far. Any way, I am very hopeful...though it scares the ever living crap out of me!
So, I guess you'd call this the up swing.
I've been thinking about hope lately, this kind of hope. How I don't want to give in to it because it's too painful when it doesn't happen. But, the truth is that I can't live without hope. It's too dark a world without it. When I thank God for the fact that my baby is coming, it will be here soon, I feel a peace, a release of fear and anger. I find myself joyful, and I can actually go shopping for my nieces and nephews without crying afterward! I thank God for the desire to have a baby, since I believe it is from Him; even though I have often cried and asked Him to take it from me because when I do I believe I'll have it soon. I know this may seem hoaky, but it gets me through the days sometimes. And even though I may get Aunt Flow's monthly visit in a few weeks, and all hopes are dashed and I'm back crying over my oatmeal; the peace and joy of giving in to hope and faith beats the depression and fear and sadness of pushing it away.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
So here's the scoop...
Ok, so this is hopefully going to be cathartic for more than just myself. I had actually thought about writing a book, but I'm too impatient for that I think, I don't know.
I've always been told I'd make a great mom, the doctor at my first ObGyn exam said I was a baby machine. So, squeezing out a few was never a concern of mine. But now, almost a year and a half after trying unsuccessfully to conceive, I am singing a different tune.
First off, let me say that I am a Christ follower, but I will try not to make this too preachy. I have faith that God hears prayers, that He is a good and loving father. I have read and re-read the stories about Hannah and Sarah in the Bible, and I have drawn some comfort. But it's always short lived. I know some in the Christian faith these days would say that my fear and doubt is what is stopping this blessing from happening, that I just need to keep believing and every time fear or doubt comes in just tell it to take a hike. Well, I don't agree with these people; I don't believe God withholds blessings just because we are human, with feelings. And besides, I would wager that anyone who says anything so callous to someone going through this has never had this problem before.
I am terrified that I am barren, terrified that I will never know what it's like to feel my baby growing inside of me, terrified that I'll never see my husbands cute little smile reflected back at me in the face of our toddler, terrified of the next forty or so years of torture that Christmases and other family events will be with my sister and brother-in-laws (as well as my own brothers' kids) kids running around, laughing, and playing, while I am consigned to being the Aunt that couldn't have kids of her own and so I spoil my nieces and nephews; fun for the kids, sheer hell for me.
I know in the grand scheme of things a year and a half is nothing, some women wait five or ten years to conceive. But for anyone who has gone through this; or is going through it, I'm sure you'll agree that time doesn't seem to matter here. It doesn't matter how long or short the wait, it's heart breaking every month when the cramps kick in and you realize that it didn't happen.
I want someone to come up and penetrate this pain, and make it better. And granted, I am very comforted by God, really I am. In the times I felt like curling up and never leaving my couch and my Buffy episodes, He is there to love me, and hold me. But it always comes back. Some might say that's proof positive that there is no God; I think it's proof positive of something called Life, that can stink sometimes, but God is there to hold me when it does.
I feel so completely alone in this. My friends don't understand; most of them are unmarried and glad when their periods signal the dodging of the proverbial bullet every month. My mother was so fertile that all my father had to do was look at her and she'd conceive. and the few married friends I do have are on their third or fourth child. I take a walk and it's like I'm the beacon for every pregnant or just delivered woman on my block. I swear it's like I can't go four steps without seeing a baby or pregnant lady. There are times I want to run screaming or punch someone. At our church there are so many pregnancies and new babies that I sometimes wish I hadn't shown up so I didn't have to force a smile on my face and pretend all is well.
Don't get me wrong, there are times I am just fine. No pangs of jealousy or fear, no tears that have to be swallowed until I get home. Sometimes I can almost believe I'm over it, I'm cool, it's no big deal, we'll just wait a little longer, it'll happen. But recently it's been the opposite. I cry on my way to the gym, I cry at the gym, in the shower, over my English muffin, at the grocery store. Sometimes I feel like the biggest, weakest cry baby on the planet.
I have a good life. I'm an actress that's gaining a measure of success in the city I'm in, I just finished the first draft of a novel and hope to publish, I have an adoring husband, fantastic friends and family who love me. Most would say "Take what you got and be satisfied." And I try. Sometimes I sit and think how ungrateful I'm being, how my life is actually pretty good, and it's satisfying. And I try to shrug my shoulders and say "It's alright. I can be happy with this." But it doesn't last long, and soon I'm crying again, my heart feeling like a giant hand is squeezing it, and I want to scream from the pain.
I'm going to Thanksgiving with my husbands family and we just found out a few weeks ago that his newly married sister is pregnant. Now, I am very happy for her, I am. But I can probably trace this tailspin back to that. I have been holding my breath for over a year now, waiting for it to happen to one of my sisters-in-law, and it finally did. I can't wait to hold my new nephew or niece, to buy them stuffed animals and take them for ice cream when they're old enough. She will be a wonderful mother. But I am not looking forward to being there, seeing her glow, seeing her husband lovingly caress her little pooch that is probably just starting. Seeing the excitement in every one's eyes, the talk of the baby shower, the theme of the nursery. I want to smile and jump up and down for her, I want to be able to join in without needing to hide in the bathroom later and cry that it's not me. How selfish am I!? But it's true and I can't seem to help it. I've prayed so hard, I've asked God to bring the happiness to the foreground, we can deal with the sadness later. But I can't seem to get a solid grip on myself. I guess a part of me is mad that we've been trying for a year and a half, and she got pregnant after barely six months of marriage. And I feel so horrible for being mad about that. I feel selfish and mean. She's been really understanding, in fact my husbands whole family has been (I really couldn't have asked for a better group of people to have for in-laws!). And I appreciate that, but I also feel bad about it. I do not want to take away from her happiness, she should be the center of attention, the one who is fawned over and made a big fuss about. Absolutely! And I know I'll join in doing that, I cant' help it. But right now, the thought of it makes me want to run and hide, makes me weep, makes me want to blame someone.
I've always been told I'd make a great mom, the doctor at my first ObGyn exam said I was a baby machine. So, squeezing out a few was never a concern of mine. But now, almost a year and a half after trying unsuccessfully to conceive, I am singing a different tune.
First off, let me say that I am a Christ follower, but I will try not to make this too preachy. I have faith that God hears prayers, that He is a good and loving father. I have read and re-read the stories about Hannah and Sarah in the Bible, and I have drawn some comfort. But it's always short lived. I know some in the Christian faith these days would say that my fear and doubt is what is stopping this blessing from happening, that I just need to keep believing and every time fear or doubt comes in just tell it to take a hike. Well, I don't agree with these people; I don't believe God withholds blessings just because we are human, with feelings. And besides, I would wager that anyone who says anything so callous to someone going through this has never had this problem before.
I am terrified that I am barren, terrified that I will never know what it's like to feel my baby growing inside of me, terrified that I'll never see my husbands cute little smile reflected back at me in the face of our toddler, terrified of the next forty or so years of torture that Christmases and other family events will be with my sister and brother-in-laws (as well as my own brothers' kids) kids running around, laughing, and playing, while I am consigned to being the Aunt that couldn't have kids of her own and so I spoil my nieces and nephews; fun for the kids, sheer hell for me.
I know in the grand scheme of things a year and a half is nothing, some women wait five or ten years to conceive. But for anyone who has gone through this; or is going through it, I'm sure you'll agree that time doesn't seem to matter here. It doesn't matter how long or short the wait, it's heart breaking every month when the cramps kick in and you realize that it didn't happen.
I want someone to come up and penetrate this pain, and make it better. And granted, I am very comforted by God, really I am. In the times I felt like curling up and never leaving my couch and my Buffy episodes, He is there to love me, and hold me. But it always comes back. Some might say that's proof positive that there is no God; I think it's proof positive of something called Life, that can stink sometimes, but God is there to hold me when it does.
I feel so completely alone in this. My friends don't understand; most of them are unmarried and glad when their periods signal the dodging of the proverbial bullet every month. My mother was so fertile that all my father had to do was look at her and she'd conceive. and the few married friends I do have are on their third or fourth child. I take a walk and it's like I'm the beacon for every pregnant or just delivered woman on my block. I swear it's like I can't go four steps without seeing a baby or pregnant lady. There are times I want to run screaming or punch someone. At our church there are so many pregnancies and new babies that I sometimes wish I hadn't shown up so I didn't have to force a smile on my face and pretend all is well.
Don't get me wrong, there are times I am just fine. No pangs of jealousy or fear, no tears that have to be swallowed until I get home. Sometimes I can almost believe I'm over it, I'm cool, it's no big deal, we'll just wait a little longer, it'll happen. But recently it's been the opposite. I cry on my way to the gym, I cry at the gym, in the shower, over my English muffin, at the grocery store. Sometimes I feel like the biggest, weakest cry baby on the planet.
I have a good life. I'm an actress that's gaining a measure of success in the city I'm in, I just finished the first draft of a novel and hope to publish, I have an adoring husband, fantastic friends and family who love me. Most would say "Take what you got and be satisfied." And I try. Sometimes I sit and think how ungrateful I'm being, how my life is actually pretty good, and it's satisfying. And I try to shrug my shoulders and say "It's alright. I can be happy with this." But it doesn't last long, and soon I'm crying again, my heart feeling like a giant hand is squeezing it, and I want to scream from the pain.
I'm going to Thanksgiving with my husbands family and we just found out a few weeks ago that his newly married sister is pregnant. Now, I am very happy for her, I am. But I can probably trace this tailspin back to that. I have been holding my breath for over a year now, waiting for it to happen to one of my sisters-in-law, and it finally did. I can't wait to hold my new nephew or niece, to buy them stuffed animals and take them for ice cream when they're old enough. She will be a wonderful mother. But I am not looking forward to being there, seeing her glow, seeing her husband lovingly caress her little pooch that is probably just starting. Seeing the excitement in every one's eyes, the talk of the baby shower, the theme of the nursery. I want to smile and jump up and down for her, I want to be able to join in without needing to hide in the bathroom later and cry that it's not me. How selfish am I!? But it's true and I can't seem to help it. I've prayed so hard, I've asked God to bring the happiness to the foreground, we can deal with the sadness later. But I can't seem to get a solid grip on myself. I guess a part of me is mad that we've been trying for a year and a half, and she got pregnant after barely six months of marriage. And I feel so horrible for being mad about that. I feel selfish and mean. She's been really understanding, in fact my husbands whole family has been (I really couldn't have asked for a better group of people to have for in-laws!). And I appreciate that, but I also feel bad about it. I do not want to take away from her happiness, she should be the center of attention, the one who is fawned over and made a big fuss about. Absolutely! And I know I'll join in doing that, I cant' help it. But right now, the thought of it makes me want to run and hide, makes me weep, makes me want to blame someone.
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