Wow–it’s been almost a month since I last posted. I’ve wanted to. I’ve also wanted to comment on more of your blogs but. . .
I just couldn’t.
Maybe because I’m bitter, maybe because I’m sad. Maybe I am trying not to give infertility the dominant place it has in my life. If I don’t talk about, if I don’t blog about it, maybe it won’t exist. I’ve actually done a decent job of convincing myself of this the last couple of weeks. It isn’t healing. It isn’t strength. It’s about denial and that’s the safest place for me right now.
Don’t get me wrong–I’ve endured endless FB pregnancies, real-life pregnancies (including my best friend) and have had babies rubbed in my face constantly. I don’t fall to pieces. I just feel detached. Like none of it is real. I suppose this is better than the alternative–emotional breakdowns and constant tears. The only place I really cry is church when a baby is baptized. That gets me every time. It absolutely tears my heart to pieces.
Today, though, the sadness returned. I talked to my best friend last night who is pregnant with number two. She is one of the few people who knows about my trouble TTC. We chatted a lot about work and her impending baby (impending baby–lol–I have no idea where that came from). I know she means well and really has no idea the extent of the hell I’ve been living through, but did she really have to mention that this was an “oops baby” that was conceived because she was on antibiotics? Did she really have to tell me that it must have all been part of God’s plan because it wasn’t something she had planned for herself? I honestly love her with my whole heart, but after she put God into the equation, I felt like I had been stabbed.
In other news, my husband and I have had some canine and feline issues lately. Not with our own animals. Other people’s animals. For the sake of loyalty, the identity of the people in question will remain anonymous. To give you a quick back story, we have three animals: two small dogs and a cat whom we cherish, love, and spoil. They are a handful at times, pee/poop on the carpet and do other insane things, but they are our world. Recently, we found out that for reasons that I can’t go into, certain “people who we are very close to” are having issues with their own pets. For some reason, these people thought it would be fitting for my husband and I to take in their dog and cat. After all, we are childless. We must be overly eager to nearly double our pet population in our tiny town-home, right? After throwing thousands of dollars down the drain on IUIs and medications, we surely must be rolling in the money to care for more animals, right? If we gracefully decline the offer of a pet surely we must be cruel and selfish people, right?
God knows my husband and I love animals. We can’t stand to see them mistreated or hurt. But. . .why is it our responsibility to constantly pick up the slack of others? Pets are blessings, but they are also commitments, just like, dare I say it, children. You have to take the good with the bad. Trying to guilt someone into taking the pet you no longer choose to care for is just plain wrong. I used to let people guilt me into things. All the time. Over little things. Over big things. However, things changed somewhere between IUI#3 and IUI#4. I learned I can’t save the world. I just can’t.
We managed to get out of having to take the dog. Strangely, it felt like an enormous victory for me. I am so used to things not turning out right for me, I am shocked when something actually goes my way. It feels 100% utterly amazing. Like I have a sliver of control in what happens in my life. Of course there is a lot more to this story (my husband actually committed us to the dog a few weeks before without my agreeing to it–boy, did he get in trouble with me for that one) and the verdict is still out on the cat.
And to end on an even crappier note, I just passed my 2 1/2 year mark of TTC. Happy freakin’ anniversary! Maybe I’ll celebrate by buying some Pre-Seed and ovulation test strips.