An Exercise in Torture?

I have this almost ritual toward the end of each cycle. Usually, it comes later, a day or so before my period actually starts. This time, it was today.

The shower is the one place I let loose, don't hold back my emotions. When our friend, John, died, that was the only place I broke down - I didn't want to do it in front of anyone. When my hormones overtake me at the end of a cycle, the shower is my outlet - so that nobody else has to see the pain.

I often pray, talk to God, ask Him for his help - usually not that I am pregnant, but more for strength, for comfort, for knowledge. Sometimes I talk this faceless, name, beingless child; telling it how much I would love it and how much it would be wanted (and I am very much aware of how crazy that makes me sound, but some days, whatever gets you through). Basically, I just use the time to get out whatever needs to come out to allow myself to cope.

I'm not really sure what's been changing lately. The Hubby has made some comments about things we will do - trips we could take, etc. He's sort of hinted at the what-ifs - what if we don't get pregnant, what if we are childless. I think it's sort of been getting to me, but not so much in a bad way.

It's almost forcing me to think, to picture that life, to think hard about getting past all this. See, the hard part for me is giving up a dream - pretty much the only dream I've ever really had. Would I love to travel, explore the world? Absolutely. Would I be disappointed in my life if I didn't do that? Not for a second. Would I love to build a career in writing or editing or start my own bakery/restaurant? You better believe it. Would life feel incomplete if I didn't have those things? Not by a long shot.

No matter what other dreams I've had for myself, being a mom was always number one. When I thought I was going to be this awesome lawyer, I was going to be the kind who was home every night to cook dinner and do homework. When I was going to write the next great American novel (and turn it into a screenplay and win an Oscar), I was going to drive carpool and live in suburbia.

Being a mom was my dream.

And now I may have to find a new one.

I've really been thinking lately about talking to someone, reading a book, something about moving past this. Accepting what could be my fate. Because I don't know how to do things.

How do I make sense of this overwhelming maternal urge? How do I see babies, kids, mommies for their beauty without the pain? How do I stop aching for my child and catching glimpses of faces - in my dreams, both awake and asleep?

Today in the shower, I was thinking about all these things, particularly about these overwhelming feelings I get for the touch or glimpse of a child that doesn't exist. And I started thinking about all the misses moments. And it made me think what if I lived them in my head then shut them off? What would that feel like?

So, I did. I closed my eyes and envisioned the pregnancy test answer I've never seen. And telling The Hubby. And telling my mom. Telling my brothers, which made me laugh because I still don't know how I would tell them or how they would react. I told friends, I told family. I heard heartbeats and saw sonograms. I saw the nursery. I saw labor - I saw my baby for the first time, said her name; I watched The Hubby hold her for the first time - that's when the tears started. I saw my mom. And I saw my stepdad - and I knew he and The Hubby would forever be competing for who was more wrapped around her little finger. I watched our munchkins fall in love with her and wonder why we ever worried how they would handle a baby. I saw firsts - food, words, steps, birthday, school.

More vividly than I ever imagined I could, I envisioned this child that does not exist. And I laughed, and I cried.

Then I opened my eyes.

For a minute, I wondered if I had made a horrible mistake. Was this going to make worse?

Once I got out of the shower, though, I didn't so those images again. I honestly felt like a weight had been lifted. I felt clear, I felt peace.

I have no idea what it means. None at all. I could be pregnant right this minute (well, not really, but in a very basic sense, let's say I could be). Or, I could be headed for yet another failure (despite a spectacular effort) and a permanant break for full out trying.

I just don't know. But, I know that seeing all those things broke my rule - I've tried very hard to not see past this process. It felt wrong to think ahead to that, almost like a jinx.

So, maybe I've just lifted a weight.

(*Seeing this written out, it occurs to me that I sound a bit like a crazy person. I'm not sure I care, but it really didn't feel that way when it happened. It felt theraputic - and nobody was charging $100 a hour for it!)

Because It's Just That Easy

I admittedly read WAY more mommy blogs than a I should. Some of them started out as TTC blogs and then the couple got pregnant, so they've morphed (which is great!). Some are just blogs I started reading ages ago and continue and some are actual friends.

One in particular, Texas Health Moms blog, I started reading when one of my best friends became a contributor. It's actually a really great blog and one I can really read without getting how I get about babies/pregnancy - one contributor has even blogged her journey through IF (resulting finally  in pregnancy).

Today, though, I read a little gem about an 11-11-11 birthdate.

And I wanted to punch my computer.

Hmm, I think I want to wait a few more month to try. Oh, but, wait, there's a really cool birth date opporunity this year! Oh, look, my cycle and ovulation coincides exactly with that EDD! Look, nine months later, I'm due 11-12-11!

FML.

And the even shittier thing is (has anybody else noticed my increased use of profanity in this blog?) that it is actually that way for some people. Not shitty for them and I sure as hell wouldn't wish what I'm going through on anybody.

But, damn.

Stories like that just make me feel crappier. Would you like me to count the number of "perfect dates" I've had over two years? There have been a lot and I've missed every one of them.

Every damn one.

Hypersensative? Probably.

My cousin gave birth to a very healthy baby boy last week. I truly am happy for her and her husband and I really can't wait to see the baby, despite all my other feelings about the subject.

I've very easily talked to family about the baby - talking stats, who he looks like, etc. - with ease (and a bottle of wine; don't judge). I was happy my mom forwarded me on the pictures of the baby the day after he was born.

I even dealt with my mother "announcing" his arrival on her Facebook page, complete with picture.

Selfishly, it stung, but I tried to move past it.

But, today, MY mother has posted yet another picture of the baby, who is wearing a little cap with the logo of the family's favorite football team.

Sorry, but it hurt. I know that it shouldn't and that she should be allowed to be excited about this new baby and show him off. Right? She should get to be all those things? How is it any different from me announcing the arrivals of all my nieces and nephews?

But, it makes me feel like shit.

She should be getting to announce her own grandbaby, not her great nephew.

And shouldn't it occur to her that seeing her post these pictures might make her own infertile daughter feel like shit?

This is where the hypersensative comes in.

I know I should not expect people to tiptoe around me. And, really, truly, I don't. But should I expect that out of my own mother? I don't know anymore.

I really just need to get over myself and let it go. Even though she's my mother, I can't expect her to not be excited about the new baby.

But every picture she posts and every little bit of excitement she has kills me.

Out of The Hubby's Mouth: I Keep Up with It Too

TH: Well, I know we've hit the right days.
M: Well, yeah.
TH: I know. I keep up with it too.
M: You do? Well, I should ovulate Saturday or Sunday, probably.
TH: Or the 15th.
M: Wow. Uh, yeah.

Saturday would be CD13 and my norm is CD13 or CD14, but CD15 is not out of the question. And I knew he probably had somewhat of an idea, but the fact that he knew we were upon O date shocked the hell out of me. And made me really happy all at the same time.

Too bad I won't know for sure in the end as I've stopped charting. Not permanently, probably, but for the next two cycles at least. I started out the cycle temping, but a few days in I started thinking about different upcoming events and just decided I didn't want to worry about it. I decided I might want to have a glass of wine on a particularly stressful workday or I might want to have a few glasses of wine when we have dinner with my family. And I might want to stay up late or have middle of the night sex. And I don't want to worry about how my temp is being effected by those things.

THAT would cause stress.

So, we're sort of winging it. Except that we're not. After charting for 21 cycles, my body doesn't have a lot of surprises. With the exception of the occasional "delayed" O, I'm a pretty regular gal and my CM is usually a pretty good indicator.

So, here we'll see how this approach works. Honestly, I'm looking forward to the break. And I'm sort of looking at it as a break from even trying. Not in the "if I don't try, I might get pregnant" sense, but just I don't want my holidays to revolve around my hormones.

And we'll see what happens beyond that.

At any rate, The Hubby knows what's going on, so maybe we'll just let him steer this train!

Through the Tears

My cousin is being induced today.

I found out that information yesterday and had forgotten a little until this morning because, as with much of her pregnancy, I've been in denial. But, now, there will be a baby. I cannot deny pretend it isn't happening anymore.

So, I went to her Facebook page and posted that I'm praying for her today and that I love her and can't wait to meet the baby.

All of those things are true. More than true.

And yet I cried as I typed. (And I'm at work, so that was fun.)

I don't mean to cry. It's almost involuntary (and I cry at everything, for any reason, so it really shouldn't be that surprising).

I'm just sad that this is real.
I'm sad that I'm the oldest, by far, of the grandchildren and I'm not providing the first great-grandchild. That is completely stupid and selfish and I fully recognize that, but I can't help it.
I'm sad that my IF issues are not as easy as hers were to figure out. (I have other opinions on that, but they are too crappy for me to even talk about in this blog. Those I keep just for the dark recesses of my own mind.)
I'm sad that we didn't get to be pregnant together and that any child I have will be at the very least 9 months younger.

And I'm scared.
I'm scared of seeing my family this weekend (not her; she lives 5 hours away) and the gushing that will go on and how I will react.
I'm scared of how I will be the first time I see the baby.

I'm just plain sad and scared for myself. None of this is about her. And I think that is something so many people just don't understand.

Her pregnancy and this baby did not cause these feelings. IF caused them. My cousin and the baby - and every other pregnancy and baby - are just triggers. They are constant reminders of what I'm not and what I don't have.

And I don't feel like that is a negative view. It's just the truth. I don't want anybody else's life or pregnancy or baby.

I just want my own, but every new one is that reminder.

I'm sure when I have to I will smile and ooh and aww. It's what I do. It's what I do best.

But, here, in my blog and in my thoughts, I do feel like a horrible person for putting on a happy face through my tears. 

Perception

Something was said to me today. A small, truly innocent comment, that hurt.

It hurt a lot. More than just about anything that has been said to me during this whole journey.

The content of the remark is not important. It was more the meaning behind - that it showed other people's perception of me and my feelings and actions during this process.

I thought I was past all of the negative perceptions and opinions of my struggle. I'm not naive enough to think there are not people who hold negative opinions about me and this process, but I felt that I was beyond that with people who know the situation - and me - best.

It was something I was always afraid, from the beginning - even before here was the IF.

I was afraid of being labeled as overly hormonal/emotional, as wanting it too much, as bitter.

I was afraid of it because in some ways those things are true. And because of a comment made to me at one point early on and stories I had heard from other about comments made to them, I kept things to myself and later between me and this blog.

Slowly, I did start to open up to more people. First, it was only when they asked. I didn't want to burden people with my problems and feelings that were so personal and I just felt too many wouldn't understand all the raw emotions.

To my surprise, many seemed to get it and I let my guard down more. I still don't openly talk about everything but it's out there.

But now I'm realizing it is too much and maybe I need to check myself more because people don't get it.

And they judge me. And they feel sorry for me. And they my own words and feelings against me, whether they mean to or not.

The thing is people don't get that I don't like the way I feel and the things I think. I would give anything not to be this way.

But I am.

And I still refuse to apologize for it.

But I probably will be a little more careful about hiding it from others.

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The Face in the Mirror

A lot of years ago, back when I fancied myself something of a writer (yeah, I was one of those AP English, almost English major types who thought I was going to write the great American novel), I started what I hoped to be a good story. A novel, I hoped. It was about woman who gave up much of her youth to care for younger siblings after her parents died. It was a story that started at end and took you back to where she had been to get to where she ended up.

The title I chose was "The Face in the Mirror."

The title, and then the story, was born from a moment I had in  my own life. I was 23, out of college, no job, living at home with my parents and my brothers, was a year out from a break up with my first love. I was getting out of the bath tub, turned my head, and was my own face in the mirror.

It was one of the most clear out of body experiences I've ever had in  my life. I felt as though the face staring back at me was a completely different person.

My reaction to that was to examine myself and where I was in my life and what it was that made me feel as though the person I was seeing wasn't me.

I realized that I still saw myself as the person I had been growing up, through high school. I still saw myself as the person I really felt like my old friends would always see me as, but I knew I wasn't that person anymore. I had recognized many times during college that I was a different person - a better version of myself. I had really grown up and into my own, but in doing so, I really had lost a lot of who I was as a person when I was a teenager. My life at that point was NOTHING like I expected and I didn't forsee it getting there any time soon.

Just yesterday, I had the same experience. I've had it off and on over the last year as I've dealth with IF. But, I think yesterday's moment was triggered by a combination of things.

I've already been feeling my age lately. And today, the older of my baby brothers turns 21. That may not seem significant, but when I can recount the day of his birth as well as my parent probably could, it's pretty significant to me.

And it's just put me back in the place of not recognizing myself because I'm no longer the person I once was and I'm, again, NOWHERE near where I expected to be at this point in my life.

I have a hard time defining myself these days. I have a hard time knowing how I am, where I'm headed, and what I want.

And it's not that everything in my life has revolved or been leading up to having kids. I've always had other things in my life. I have a husband, I have hobbies, I have a job I (usually) enjoy, I have friends, I have family, I have other goals. But for as long as I can ever remember - whenever I played pretend (no matter the game),whenever I pictured events in my life -  me being a mom was there.

So, now, it's hard to see myself, at this age and stage of my life, and not see myself as a mom.

I'm struggling every day to move past that and to find me somewhere in this mess.

And hopefully I'll find myself in my reflection some day soon.