So I’m going to be real with everyone today. I make light of the infertility battle as much as I can because I believe it is what keeps me sane. And honestly, so far, this blogging thing has become a really great outlet for me to vent my feelings. But some days it genuinely feels so crappy that getting out of bed in the morning is too much of a struggle. So today I decided I’m going to invite myself to a pity party of one. Unless you’re feeling bad for yourself today too. Then we can drown in our sorrows together.
One of the hardest parts of this infertility journey is seeing everyone around me pregnant. I know jealousy doesn’t look good on me, but some days I just can’t help it. I’m at that age now where most people I know are married, with their first child, or maybe even second or third child on the way. I see pictures posted on social media of fathers with sons sitting on their shoulders, and mothers dressing daughters up like their favorite Disney Princess’. As I’ve said before, It’s not that I’m not happy for these little families, I’m just sad for me and mine. I never know when the heartache is going to be triggered. It kind of comes in waves of depression, or even numbness.
Even during the holidays it’s starting to feel like I’m missing out on something; They just don’t seem the same anymore. I’m yearning for that feeling when you see your kids open their favorite gifts on Christmas morning. And I want my fridge to be covered in horribly drawn stick figure portraits of us all holding hands. I want to walk into the living room and see Mike napping, with our baby sleeping on his chest. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to experience any of those things, and it’s terrifying.
I have worked in healthcare for the last several years. Day in and day out I see women and men who are totally undeserving of the blessing of parenthood, popping out babies like a Pez dispenser. I see children who are abused and neglected, and babies who are born addicted to drugs. I know people say everything happens for a reason but I can’t seem to come up with even one reason that would justify these people being worthy of being parents but not myself. Surely I would be a better parent than them.
Sometimes I even wonder if I’m being punished for all the times I said I didn’t want kids when I was younger. I had my mind-set. Kids were bratty and I liked being responsible for myself and no one else. But all those feelings can quickly change when you meet your soul mate. Now there is nothing I would love to see more than a little one running around made up of me and my soon to be husband. I know thinking this way is unrealistic, but sometimes I feel like I need any kind of explanation or answer as to why this is happening to us.
Some days I feel totally okay. I think I just feel like it’s not really happening, it can’t be real. We will start trying again and it will just miraculously happen, because everyone is given the chance to have kids of their own. And then others I feel overwhelmed with sadness, like there is a hole in my heart. Those are the days when I am truly in touch with reality. The reality that there is a chance I may never be a mother, and that I am taking fatherhood away from Mike. On those days I find letting myself “cry it out” on the way home from work can help just enough that I can force a smile by the time I walk in the front door.
I know there is still hope for us, and I’m positive we will become parents one way or another. Some days I just feel a little more confident than others. I have a wonderful support system through Mike, my family, and a few good friends (and all my new friends I am making through blogging!). Just take one day at a time, that’s all I can do. Now I am going to bail on this Pity Party, there wasn’t even any chips and salsa.
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