Friday, February 17, 2012

to talk about it.

Because so far, I have mostly just read about it, and watched other people suffer through it from afar. 

Because we're at the point when it's time to start talking about it, only because things will soon be happening, and it will be so much harder not to acknowledge what's really going on.

Deep breath. 

Since our wedding day, a year and 9 months ago, we've been waiting for it to happen. We started by telling ourselves on our honeymoon that we'd just not "not try".  The whole not preventing phase. That lasted about 6 months, only by about month 4 or 5 (okay, maybe month 3, if I'm being honest) it started to become stressful, because when you're just going to see if something will happen, it sounds like it should be very nonchalant and easy and throwing caution to the wind, but then all of the sudden when that something fails to happen, nonchalant is the very last thing you're able to feel about it all. I think when people say "we're just not preventing" it is kind of a load of BS, a way to give oneself some breathing room in case it doesn't happen right away. That's how it was for me: "I'm going to project that this isn't that big of a deal, so maybe it really won't be. I want to save myself from having to own my disappointment."

We didn't really talk about it to anyone, save a few (meaning approximately 2) very close friends. Of course, people asked. Like when the day you get engaged people ask you all about your wedding plans, the day you get married, people start asking you all about your baby plans. At least that's been our experience. Which is fine, because I really am so glad that people are interested in us and our plans. Truly. So when I got the question, even from the very beginning, I tended towards the "oh noooo, not anytime soon!" response, mostly due to our still needing to get back on our feet after the accident. It wouldn't make sense to have a baby on my income anyways, so I used that as a way to throw up a wall to the baby-asker-afters. And then as time wore on, I hoped and hoped that they wouldn't ask again, so I wouldn't have to lie again.

Last fall, after well over a year or so of trying, we decided that it was time to start coming up with a game plan. Originally we thought to give it til the holidays, but at a strategy appointment with my gyn in early November, she suggested that we go ahead and start some testing just to begin the process of ruling things out. Low-hanging fruit kinds of tests. So that we did. Normal ultrasounds, and we were able to rule out male issues and some potential issues on my side: my tubes are squeaky clean, thankyouverymuch. 

I have been more or less ok about most of this, either that, or I'm just kidding myself, which is completely possible. Yes, I've had a few tears (and general bitchiness) as the months have ticked by and that dreaded day 1 of a new cycle comes (and always with a vengeance!) again. Yes, I've been through the whole hiding people who have just announced their pregnancy to the world on facebook, and yes I have been through the I-can-hardly-look-at, much less be HAPPY for, anyone with a growing belly, and feeling like there are babies! everywhere i look!  Even though I know that it's really no different than it's ever been and will ever be.  Life happens, thank goodness.

For the most part, I've waded through those terrible feelings and come out on the other side just fine.  I'm working on trusting in the timing. Not letting my life be reduced to counting the days of a cycle. Not burning through home pregnancy tests every month, when for months on end now, I've nearly always known that they'd be negative. Very rarely have I ever had the feeling that they'd be anything but. 

And now. My time is finally spent looking forward into the next few months instead of just counting through 28 day stretches, over and over and over again, Groundhog Day style. We've just started seeing a specialist. He is kind. His nurses and NPs are fantastic. They seem to care. We feel like we're under the wing of people who know infinitely more than we do, and who can help. Who want to help. I am trying to train myself in the language of "when" instead of "if". We have the beginnings of a plan. Some things in the works that will help us know what we're really dealing with, and what to do about it.

So I am starting to talk about it. Selectively, that is. What a hard and frightening thing it can be, to share something so private. I find it initially much easier and more comfortable to write about—that or to suffer it in silence would be my most natural inclination. But when you do start to talk about it, you suddenly start to hear stories. Of people who went through it or are going through it. Of people who might understand that feeling of it just not being fair that it has to be so hard for some while so easy for others. Of people who now have gurgling babies either born to them or brought to them through adoption, but either way, they have a child for whom they waited and longed and hoped and cried for.

And then you start to feel less alone, and you chide yourself for believing the lie that you were ever alone in the first place. 

1 comment:

  1. Beautiful post Katie. One I resonate with so much. You are right, you are not alone at all. I found that letting friends in to our journey was absolutely the best thing for me. So often those people gave me the courage to take another step, and so many of them have told me how it has changed them too. (ugh...people say such ridiculous things. But I've found that the people who are in it with me, they never do. It's always the ridiculous things that are said out of ignorance. Thus another reason I'm a fan of bringing this journey in to the open.) I too have such a love/hate relationship with Facebook thanks to pregnancy announcements, but message me if you ever want to chat. Would love to. In the meantime, keep writing about it. You aren't alone. It's a hard road, but one I honestly am so grateful for. It has and continues to chance and shape me in incredible ways.