Tread carefully, there be sharks in these waters!
So I want to begin with a heart-felt thank you all of you who commented or emailed me this week. Every word was like a lifeline and while I hardly feel as though I have the words for a post I want to let you know that I have not done a swan dive from a bridge. Also, I really do plan to email all of you back: hopefully I can stop wearing this damn albatross around my neck (which is really weighing me down). Every footstep feels heavy and gravity is not my friend. I find myself feeling the need to sit and stare into space at every opportunity. For instance, right now I am blogging as I left a half-completed pan of twice-baked potatoes waiting for their filling. Meh.
When I look at myself in the mirror, I hardly know the woman staring back at me. I look as tired as I feel. My body is bulkier than when I began TTC and my eyes don’t convey a sense of mischief anymore. I don’t even feel funny, and I think I used to be pretty funny. Not to mention that I have having some serious anger toward my physical self. I have a friend who is HIV+ and he always refers to his blood as poison (yes, he has issues). When I think about my own reproductive tract, I internally call it the “embryo terminator”. I used to call it that aloud but J put a rapid end to that level of emotional flogging. Alas, gallows humor is not her thing.
After we got confirmation that this cycle was a bust, J and I briefly talked about giving up TTC then she had an insight that she doesn’t even know if we could be who we were before we started trying. J wants to talk future plans. She wants to consider our options. She wants me to be okay. Mostly I just want to nap.
Also if another well-intended person in the non-TTC world says to me that a baby will happen for J and I “when the time is right,” I am going to completely lose my mind. So I could have saved the 50 grand we have spent as well as all this emotional turmoil if I could be more tuned into when God and the universe are ready for us to conceive?! R.i.g.h.t