I always knew I was meant to be a mommy. In second grade, when I was first asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said a mommy. (My teacher told me that wasn’t a real job, it’s kind of a sore point.) Before my husband and I were married, we discussed in detail what we wanted our family situation to look like. We wanted more than two and less than 5 kids, so either 3 or 4. We wanted them close together, maybe only a year or two apart, and at least one boy and one girl.
It didn’t really turn out that way. I had my first miscarriage 9 months after we got married, and my second one 5 months after that. Then we still struggled for 2 more years, with negative after negative. I assumed I was just doing everything wrong, and that’s why I couldn’t get pregnant. I was stressing out too much, I was too fat, it’ll happen the moment I stopped “trying.”
So I stopped stressing, stopped “trying.” And lo and behold, I was pregnant a month later. See? All I had to do was stop worrying. So a while after our baby boy entered this world, we decided to try again. After all, all I had to do was not stress out and it will just happen, right?
I finally got tired enough of trying, so I went to my doctor a few months before Sean’s 3rd birthday. I hadn’t had a period in over 6 months, I’d gained 40 pounds, and I had horrible acne. It was time to get some answers, even if they were bad. My doctor, who is absolutely wonderful, thoughtfully listened to all of my concerns and problems, and decided to have me take a wide range of blood tests. The tests confirmed what she had thought, I have PCOS. (If you want to know more information, follow this link.) At first, I took the news well. Got in the gym, ate right, and I lost 30 pounds in just under 2 months. Still, no period, so no ovulation, meaning no baby.
I really lost myself then. I mentally gave up, and I haven’t been able to break myself of it. It’s really a lot harder dealing with infertility than I thought it would be. I feel broken because I can’t have the family I always dreamed of. I’m lost and frustrated with the inability to choose when and how to have that family. On top of my own self-destructive thoughts, I’m surrounded by pregnancies and babies. I have 12 friends on Facebook either currently pregnant or new moms. They’re showing off their bumps, talking about baby kicks and ultrasounds, and it’s causing a lot of confusing feelings. Of course I’m overjoyed for my friends and families and their growing bellies. I know what an amazing thing having a child is, and I can’t wait for my loved ones to know that joy.
On the other hand, I’m more jealous than I thought a person could be. Fighting back all of the negative thoughts and feelings is a daily struggle. The jealousy makes me angry and bitter and sad. Being surrounded by pregnancies has amplified the feelings of being broken or messed up. I feel alone and left out, and I have to keep it to myself, because I need to be happy for them. If anyone posts something negative or complain-ey, I rant to my husband about it. I become incredulous, asking why they can’t just be grateful for what they have, what people like me don’t have? I have to then back myself down off of the assumption wagon. I don’t know in detail everyone’s stories and struggles. I can’t judge them.
I keep stressing myself out with my wishful thinking. I wish I wasn’t so jealous. I wish I had my feelings on lock down. I wish my body could work right. I wish I didn’t have to struggle with this anymore. I wish I had a choice about my family. I wish I had a little girl, so I can put bows in her hair. I want another little boy, so I can run around between football games. I wish this wasn’t the hand that I was dealt.
As much as I want to say I’m okay, I can’t. Not yet, anyways. I know what I need to do. I just need to figure out how to let go of the plan I had for my life, and only be concerned about the path that I am on. I have an amazing husband, and a beautiful little boy, and they are enough. I just need to focus on what I have, and not so much on what I wish, so maybe I can dig myself out of this hole soon.
I never thought infertility would be so hard.
The post I Never Thought Infertility Would Be So Hard appeared first on Still Standing Magazine.
Related Stories
Pillars of Strength from the Past
Maybe Next Year Will Be Better!
My Own Prison