Hope S(t)inks

I’m going through a bit of a rough patch. Ok, that’s kind of an understatement. I can’t even find the words anymore. I lie awake at night, half-heartedly composing blog posts that never make it because I don’t even crack open my computer, never mind type, edit, and then send my blatherings out into the Great Unknown…shivering, wondering, wavering. Does anyone care? Does it matter to anyone what I think, what I feel? Why would it matter to strangers who don’t know me when it doesn’t even matter to my own family.

Yesterday, the bitch landed on CD40 with a resounding thud – five days late which, even though I knew there was absolutely zero chance of it being anything but an untimely delay to once again screw with my brain, I dared to hope. HAH! Me? What a joke. I’ve never even gotten pregnant. At times I think I’d rather deal with anything that gives me any hope whatsoever that my body is even capable of conception at all – because, at present, I have zero indication that this is even in the realm of possibilities for me, ever.

Sometimes, hope really stinks.

Sometimes, instead of lifting me up, it just makes me feel like I’m sinking…because when hope isn’t realized by the goal you set your sights on, it just falls flat and leaves you feeling sad, tired, and broken.

I’m drowning.

My cycles have been pretty eratic, ranging from 28 to 40 days. I can’t help but feel completely freaked out – partly because I think, how on earth could I even hope to time anything au naturel when my periods are so damn unpredictable; partly because I keep wondering if I’m teetering on the edge of being perimenopausal (perish the thought!!). I know it’s stupid, ridiculous even, to worry about any of that since, according to Dr. McGreedy, there’s pretty much no chance in hell that I could ever get pregnant on my own. But until we’re in better hands – how can I not try, right? I can’t just throw my hands up in the air and say, oh forget about all that, let’s just wait and see what happens if/when we find a new RE! And with my husband’s crazy work schedule, I’m starting to think I’d be better off just asking him to make a “donation” and hand me a turkey baster (please accept my profuse apologies for this crass mental image – I blame it on the hormones that are apparently only good for giving me monthly cramps and assorted indignities).

So if you’ve been wondering why I haven’t posted (I know – so presumptuous of me) – it’s not because I’m gone or because I’m bored with blogging, busy with fun things, etc. It’s because I sound like a broken record. Woe is me. I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m lonely. I feel despair and despondency. What else is new? At this point, I feel like anyone reading my blog must be rolling their eyes thinking, “Seriously? This again??”.

Please forgive me. I feel like I’m lost at sea without a compass. I’m drowning.

The news here is…oh wait, there is no news. Unless, of course, you count being a pathetic 30-something year old believing in miracles and fairy tale endings news. Didn’t think so.

I want to be part of a community, part of life, part of something – but I feel like I’m frozen in place. I don’t even know how to have a conversation anymore. I even dread turning on the tv because everything, and I mean everything, is just reminding me about how I’ve never gotten pregnant in my entire life – and how, around me, everyone else is moving on. All these commercials that are all about baby this, mommy that, super hero daddy. I’m so sick and tired of it. I feel like screaming – and, honestly, if it wasn’t for my husband, I probably would’ve thrown the remote at the tv and felt a wave of relief right about the same time as a satisfying crunch indicated the death of that dreaded monster and harbinger of Fertile Myrtle Daily.

So I watched documentaries on Netflix. I watched Amelie, which is one of my favorite feel-good movies – not only because I kind of love Audrey Tautou but because I have a bit of a weakness for French cinema. I mean, the French have a knack for drama and what I would consider “real people” story telling that, in my unvarnished opinion, is simply unparalleled. My only irritation came from not being able to disable the entirely distracting subtitles, though I was glad that, at least, it hadn’t been dubbed (perish the thought!). There are so many aspects of this movie that I love and relate to; it makes me want to jump on a plane and spend a few months in France…mmmm, le fromage! I watched cooking shows that made me struggle with envy: the fresh, healthy produce I can’t hope to find in this place (because, really? Zesting a citrus fruit is all fine and well when it comes from an organic farm stand, freshly picked just days before you use it. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that none of us dealing with IF want to put any additional pesticides in our bodies if we can help it.); the boon of laughing children, family and friends. I finally got around to tackling my “mending” basket – fixed a hat and three cardigans that all had undone seams or holes…from about a year ago. Anything to keep my mind off THE ISSUE. You know, the hollow emptiness I feel pretty much every waking second of my life.

Meanwhile, I’ve set up a “battle station” on my nightstand with about a dozen IF books and a notebook. I’m working on finding my way through the maze, trying to formulate a plan. I keep struggling, I keep fighting the tears (and losing the battle), I keep getting angry and running scared. But I know I can’t keep hiding. I can’t keep worrying about whether or not my story is original, relevant, interesting. I can’t keep judging myself and finding myself falling short of self-imposed standards of perfection. I’ve been doing that my whole life, and clearly it’s not really working for me.

Anyway. I’m still here. Still hurting, still trying to find my way…Not giving up yet.

Advertisements

32 thoughts on “Hope S(t)inks

  1. I think we all relate to you and have felt similar things which is why we do care when your family doesn’t seem to. By the way, I’m impressed that you’re mending. I think I have things with holes from 5 years ago. Maybe when they are obviously and completely out of style I’ll throw them away instead of mending them.

    • LOL I know what you mean. I’ve had this one cardigan where the seam separated in several places – and it sat in various baskets over a long, long period of time. I’m also not terribly good at it – not like the generation of our grandmothers, who probably could’ve made these repairs in a way that would’ve left them invisible except for close inspection. I just figure that if I don’t mend it, I can’t use OR donate it.

  2. I so relate to this. It’s like I am not even living my own life. I am sitting here thinking, “What the hell? I had other plans. Let’s go.” Instead I am stuck in this endless cycle of hope, despair, hope, despair. All I can do is look back at where I was a year ago and recognize how far I’ve come.

    • I know what you mean. I’m trying to keep going – in spite of it all. What other choice do we have, really? Sometimes, when I feel really crummy both physically and emotionally, I try to rally myself for my husband – because I know how his heart breaks every time he sees me cry…

  3. Ohhh sweet thing, garr. Despair can suck it. Figuring out the maze is such an arduous task. I’m in the labyrinth with you, drinking my health shakes and doing my yoga, plowing through my own mountain of books. I definitely have a lot of hope for you. You’ve got lots of energy and life in you. xo

    • Thanks for the pep talk πŸ™‚ I really hope that I can figure out a way out of this – regardless of what happens, I know I need to figure out a way to be happy again…

  4. Sorry that you’re going through this. It’s a cruel emotional roller coaster.

    What you say about hope stinking really resonates with me. I’m ready to tell my IVF nurses never to be positive with me ever again! Only state the facts and don’t include any congratulations or declarations of good news. Otherwise, I start getting my hopes up, and hurts a whole lot more later.

    • You know, sometimes I have this deluded idea about how great it would be to have a Sisterhood of the Traveling IFers – you know, where you could count on a whole bag of giggles with other women who know at least to some extent how you feel. I remember how, at one doctor’s office we went to a couple of years ago, when I had my first internal sonogram or whatever that’s called (you know that weird, awkward one with the wand?) – and I said to the nurse how weird it was to look at a monitor you’d normally only look at when you’re pregnant…and seeing a black and white image of my very very empty womb. And she squeezed my hand and said something to the effect of “we’ll get you there”. Unfortunately that doctor retired, because I would’ve much rather continued to see him than the d-bag RE we ended up going to afterwards.

  5. Thinking of you. Can totally relate to this post too – there are just days where there IS no happy or silver lining – it just sucks. And where else to let it out than through writing? I’m right there with you. Wish I had something more profound to say. Holding you in my thoughts.

    • Thanks so much for stopping by & taking the time to leave a comment. I sometimes feel like I don’t have anything uplifting to say – about my own situation or someone else’s – because sometimes I’m just overwhelmed with sadness. I think what matters most is knowing that others get it, are out there struggling in much the same way, and are also just trying to come to grips with a crappy situation…

  6. Hey girl! I read your post last night and my heart ached for you but I wasn’t sure what to write. I left the window opened all day, occasionally glancing back to it. I don’t know that I have words to heal your wounds but know that I’m here for you if you need to talk and I haven’t lost hope that you will have children. NEVER GIVE UP! While you wait on this miracle that I believe is coming, keep enjoying life! I want you to make lots of memories that you can share with your future kiddos some day. Also, keep believing each day that when you wake up, something wonderful is going to happen. hugs!!

    waitingforbabybird.com

  7. Hey lady! I’m at work so this is probably not going to be a long comment; however, I do feel the need to respond to your post. I want you to know you belong to our community here online and in our hearts. All of us know and understand exactly what you are writing; we have all been there.. I know I would be right there with you now if it wasn’t for this glorious mental health break I have had. Hope is a Catch 22. Hope, I feel, can set us up for failure. However, hope is also what keeps all of us plugging along and moving forward. Hope and miracles do happen in life; or else no one would even talk about it. IF is such a suckish thing to have to go thru; and there’s not a damn thing anyone can say to make it better or make the journey move along a little easier. However, I hope (oh the irony) that knowing you have us out here for you may possibly help a little. Please feel free to blog about anything you want. We are here to boost you up when you are down.. We are also here to share in the happiness you may experience. Please never feel alone because you have a whole internet world out here rooting for you πŸ™‚

    • Thank you, thank you so much, for taking the time to leave me such a wonderful, caring and supportive message. I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me – and your words about the good and bad parts or sides of hope really resonated with me. I think that a lot of what makes me feel despondent and morose is all the crap that’s happened in my life in the last 5 years – of which IF is only one of the more significant but, sadly, not only sucky bits. So I can honestly say that the support and encouragement of people like you, of the IF community, of other women who are dealing with similar issues or the same emotions, means more than I can put into words…Thank you! πŸ™‚

  8. I wish I could reach through the computer to give you a huge hug! I can’t tell you how many times I almost didn’t publish a post because I felt like a broken record. During the worst days, I completely exiled myself from friends and family. I went to work, but I wasn’t really all there. I came home and barely spoke to my husband. Forget a fun night out with friends. I couldn’t even enjoy my favorite TV shows.

    Keep writing, keep posting. You will hear from people that you’re not alone, that your thoughts and feelings are completely normal. That, more than anything, gave me the greatest comfort. ((hugs))

    • Thank you so much. It really, really helps me to know, to read, that others feel the same, that my posts are relatable even if they feel redundant to me. Hugs!!

  9. Did you write this post? Did I write this post? … Girl, I could have… I really really could have, nearly every single word of it… And hope just got the best of me yet again. As much as I told myself there was absolutely NO WAY my latest IUI would result in a positive, as much as I reasoned with myself in the absence of any symptoms, as much as I was trying to just focus on the present, on the other positives in my life (none of which I can think of at this very moment), hope was still there, hiding in the shadows, waiting to jump out and shatter my heart as soon as that entirely predictable negative came through… I feel down and lost, again, still, and I am tired so tired… I just want to tell you. You are not alone. I know where you are. I live there too. All the time.

    • I’m so sorry about your failed IUI 😦 😦 It really breaks my heart when I read or hear this about fellow IFers. I always think that you just don’t know which way to turn – you don’t want to get your hopes up high because you’re worried that you’ll be even more devastated, but then you think that if you’re being all Negative Nancy, maybe that’ll be a jinx. Whichever way you slice and dice it, no one should have to go through this agony and then be charged through the nose for the “privilege” of being made to feel like a loser 😦

    • Thank you for taking the time to comment – honestly, I don’t think I can say this often enough, but just knowing that others relate and understand, that maybe they feel understood through my posts, it makes a big difference…

  10. I hear ya (about the hesitance to keep raining gloom…I’m certainly guilty of that) but the nature of the IF blog (I think) is a working out of the turbulence and confusion with the beautiful catharsis of words, whether through humor or the kindling of gratitude or the raw unfolding of fears and grief. We all have our own way, and, listen, that’s what’s going on with you! No one’s forced to “follow.”

  11. I also wondered where you’d been lately and let me just say I’m right there with you wallowing in misery. Just know that you aren’t alone, even though you feel like you are. I’m so sorry you’re going through this but know that we can all get through it together.

    • Thank you so much, I really appreciate your kind words. I keep trying to remind myself to stop being so self-involved and egocentric. I know I’m not the only one, and I know that so many women have been through so much more IF-related trauma than I have. I just wish we could all just fast-forward through all this crap and get to a place that so many people don’t even realize what a blessing it is…

  12. Oysh. I can relate to this SO SO much. Last month after our first IUI I felt such extreme disappointment after it failed. I felt lower than ever. Just know that you’re not alone, and there are people out here who do care and are rooting for you even when it doesn’t feel like it. :-/

    • I’m so sorry about your failed IUI 😦 I can’t imagine the disappointment. It’s a course of action we’re open to, but the place we were going to do it at didn’t want to do any ultrasounds – which, to me, is a bit like racing down the highway with a blindfold over your eyes. I know there are clinics/doctors who perform IUIs with just Clomid and without monitoring, but I feel like it’s kind of a waste of time and money – not to mention, there’s then no way to know what happened if it failed, or whether you end up with cysts that could jeopardize future ARTs. Either way, I wish so much that IF wasn’t such a quiet suffering for most of us – that doctor’s offices were more proactive about offering counseling and support groups so that we wouldn’t all have to feel so isolate and alone. I’m sending you lots of hugs!!

  13. I have wondered where you have been and almost posted to your previous post today. I should have. I care! It is this group of strangers that already know how you feel where you don’t need to worry about us rolling our eyes, because we know. We are a safe place to fall. Even if it is an identical post tomorrow – I want to read it. I am so sorry you are hurting and I wish I could say or do something to make you feel better. *hugs*

    • Thank you so much, you’re really sweet to leave me a supportive message. Sometimes I just feel like I keep writing the same version of the same issues over and over. I know that we should be doing something instead of me worrying and whining about it, but the logistics are making it hard to do anything right now. Sometimes I just feel like it’s never going to happen, and when I think about that I honestly think, what the hell is the point of my life if we don’t have children?? 😦 😦

      • Sometimes we get stuck. For me I got stuck with who I was with or where I worked and then I would make some bold move that really scared the sh*t out of me then I would get I unstuck. I am not saying this applies to you, just that I know that feeling. The fear of being a broken record or of pushing people away with your sadness. I can promise you that it won’t be like this forever. After all my setbacks, the hope drops out from under me and the well dries up and it takes awhile for it to bubble back up again. During this time my sister always tells me, “it is okay, you don’t have to have hope right now, I will hold it for you.” And I will tell you and everyone going through this the same thing, when you don’t have hope (because it can be exhausting to maintain), I will hold it for you. You are more than your uterus and ovaries! (Seriously we should have a fundraising shirt made with that on it) And while I *hope* that you will be a mom,

Comments are closed.