In some ways, blogging makes me bitter - so much so, that I contemplate ending my blog all together. I'm still waiting for that stork who lost his way trying to find our house. Everyone I started this journey with is becoming a mother, and here I am. Wallowing in my Blogger dashboard. Wondering what's left to say (write). I want to write about this, and yet I sit here afraid to offend someone. And that makes me mad.
I don't want to censor myself. I never used to. What changed?
I thought I got over being a Bitter Betty. What makes me revert?
Part of me is just angry that, on top of not being able to reproduce a child, everyone else around me is doing it. Everyone is pregnant - from my high school friends to ladies in my infertility support group. And, on top of not being able to reproduce a child, I have to suffer every physical consequence imaginable for it. The pain, the surgeries, the medications. I'm sick of having to explain to friends why, you know, I just don't feel like myself sometimes.
Because I'm not myself.
It's getting better with this new doctor. It is. But it doesn't mean I don't still question "why me" or I don't get sick and tired of people whining to me.
I'm sorry you had a bad day. Perhaps you'd like to trade and have a catheter stuck up your vagina filled with saline fluid along with having an ultrasound probe up there at the exact same time. Sorry you are having a bad day when I'm having my lady bits stretched out like I'm a porn star... only I'm not getting screwed by anything except medical equipment, in front of a room full of medical personnel. Meanwhile, my poor husband calmly sits next to my shoulder and looks sad at the fact that I'm being violated for the umpteenth-zillion time.
I'm sorry it took you ___ lousy months to conceive. That's so sad. You know what? I'm at three years. Of wanting a baby. And you know what I'm tired of? People saying, "I can't WAIT until you have one. It's such a blessing being a mom." Uh, yeah. I know it's a blessing. It's a blessing I've been trying to get my hands on for three years. No joke. If one more person tells me how awesome being a mom is, I'm going to tell them to go straight to hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.
I'm sorry that your life is so awful after having a baby. That's just terrible that you get no sleep, you have shit all over your clothes, and you have no adult time. Did you read no books before deciding to get pregnant? Do you not have any friends with kids? Have you no clue about the work that it takes to be a parent? I guess you did absolutely no research before you go knocked up about how kids don't sleep and how babies can't feel, wipe, and bathe themselves.
I don't write about these things and complain because I'm TRYING. I am trying to not be so "woe is me" about this situation. But with every day that passes, it's another day further from when we started this journey. And it's another day when someone announces their pregnancy or whines about their kid being annoying. It's another day where I hear a mom curse at her child in public or someone tells me, "Being a mom is SPECIAL."
You know what I consider special these days? The days when I am not completely losing my marbles. That's special. It's the days when I'm crumbling on the inside, but I still manage to smile in the mirror and remember that I got out of bed this morning. I bathed. I brushed my teeth. I ate. I kissed my husband good-bye.
That's not insanity. It's normalcy. And, even if it's masking the pain I have inside, it has to count for something.