No Rest For The . . .

Bitter and jealous. Throw in some angry too. And of course, weary. Let me preface this post by saying how fortunate I am to be pregnant now. Everyday I look at pictures of my babies and hope that I get to meet them both someday. I am so grateful and am becoming more and more comfortable and excited for out future.

But . . . . nearly 8 weeks of pregnancy has not cured my infertility mental mess. In the course of two and a half years of trying it is inevitable that you will have to deal with people being pregnant or announcing their joyous news while you suffer. Most of the people in my life who have done that don't mean enough to for me to do anything but cry for a day and then ignore them for life. There was one that hit particularly hard. And by hard I mean I tried to be a big girl and take a shower and shake it off. Once I was in the shower the tears started. I got out of the shower but didn't have the will to get dressed, or even put lotion on. I laid in my bed for two days crying randomly, still naked and wishing everytime I feel asleep that I wouldn't wake up again so I could start fresh in a new and better life.

Many months later that devastating news has led to a baby that was born. I've tried to be happy because I knew it was coming. I've bought gifts for the baby and have tried to feel excitement over this. But when the actual birth news came, I was furiously angry. And then deeply sad and desperate feeling. I cried again just like I did when I found out the baby was a possibility. I want to be happy and mature and move on, because hopefully I will be having two beautiful babies of my own in May. But everytime I think of the baby, everytime I ever look at that baby, I think of wishing I was dead. When I look at photos of the sweet, innocent, newborn, all I see is hopelessness. What kind of freak looks at a newborn and thinks of hopelessness?

The kind of freak who had 11 failed treatments. The kind of freak that used to dream of a big family but knows unless they win the lottery it's not an option. The kind of freak that had to choose everyday for the last year what time they would roam the hallways at work so that they wouldn't run into all the pregnant employees in the building. The kind of freak who tried to be positive 29 times and think of names and pick out baby furniture only to feel like a worthless ass at the end. The kind of freak that gets a positive pregnancy test but can only be happy for about 48 hours because after years of joylessness it feels wrong to be totally and completely happy. The kind of freak that stays awake at night worrying more than ever because they finally have something to lose besides sanity and loads of money.

I thought I would be cured. I feel disappointed in myself, but know I can't do anything about it. All I can do is look at my ultrasound pictures and hope that I feel true joy of my own soon.

Countdown: Along with being reproductively challenged, I am mathetically challenged. I realized the 14th of October was 3 weeks from our last ultrasound and promptly booked a new appointment for the 7th! So after a little scare we're back on . . . 1 week and 2 days until I get to see my babies again!