I am supposed to be asleep. I am stinking tired. These last 2 weeks of not going to bed until well past 2 am have caught up with me. But still, I can’t sleep. Which brings me to thinking what a light weight I am and how a half a beer will knock me right out. But I am full from the crap I have been munching on ALL day. Maybe I could just throw up?
I think I was ok until I started thinking about a friend I ran into this weekend. And the heartache this has caused me. Like pierce my heart with a dull rusty knife. Just there, festering. Then I started tossing and turning, thinking of how daring it would be to put it out there. Out there for all the world to see. For everyone to know how to get to my heart. How to hurt me. Where I’m vulnerable. And how ironically, the thought of getting it out there is cathartic.
We all know of our struggles to get pregnant. I certainly talk about it a lot. Too much. I hate to talk about it. I know, it’s like blah blah, blah. But I do, because it’s where I am in my life right now. It consumes me. Sometimes more than the blessing I already have. And it shouldn’t. But it does. But there are a few things that get me through these moments. 1.) Hubby and his unwavering support and faith. 2.) Friends who hear me, who acknowledge the hurt and who don’t tire of the blah blah blah. 3.) talking/blogging about it and 4.) knowing that other people I know are struggling too. Which brings me to my point.
I don’t deny that I am miserable about this. And it is so true, in my case, that misery loves company. It was comforting knowing that I had friends that are going through this with me. I feel not so forgotten. If that makes any sense. Well, this friend I ran into, we were fellow fertility strugglers with our first child. So I was comforted in the fact when we started trying again at the same time that I would have someone to turn to. Someone to share my pain with. We don’t speak often, as life kinda gets in the way. Well, a few months back, I ran into a mutual friend and she commented how exciting it was that Friend was pregnant, 7 months along, with a girl! I think I cried for days. That day in fact, I wrote this post. My infertile friends were being picked off one by one, and I was the only one left. He had forgotten me. And I was hurt that I had spoken to her recently, and we had attended some of the same birthday parties, and I didn’t’ know. It dawned on me for the first time, how scared other people were to share their joy. And that angered me even more. And hurt me too. I felt alien. I could feel the stares from people as pregnancies were announced, baby showers were had, everyone on their toes. They don’t know what to say. They can’t look at me in the face, not when gifts are being opened, not when names are being announced, not when games are being played. At least, in my mind, this is what happens. People are probably oblivious, as the world does not revolve around me. Well, not their world at least. But in my world, and in my head, that is how it all goes down.
So I ran into said Friend, who has since had her baby girl, and I froze. I had not expected for my heart to drop like a ton of bricks. To see how fantastic she looked, wearing New Mommy Fabulous. So I fidgeted for my voice, for my sight, for my heart. To pull it all together. To put on a happy face, oh that stupid Happy Face – I am so sick and tired of it. To be happy and ask about her blessings. Because I don’t want to have to watch her struggle telling me something she doesn’t know how to share with me. And I don’t want to struggle with having to listen to something I don’t know that I can handle. Isn’t this terrible? Who wouldn’t be afraid to share their news with me? I certainly would. But I live with this stigma I have created for myself. All in my head where I usually like things. Because everything is always so pretty in there. And it always goes my way. But this heart of mine, there’s no reasoning with the damn thing! It takes over my pretty little head and then things get hairy. They all become so real. And I become so vulnerable.
So infertility sucks, anyone wanna join this club too? I’d love company!
Think about it.
And though I am taking part in the Half Drunk challenge (see button on the right), I’m not drunk. But that’s starting to sound like a fantastic idea. Because maybe I’ll get kinky, have sex and get pregnant. And if all else fails, I can drown my sorrows. So yay! I guess.