Over and over again
I struggle to find words…. no. I struggle to find communicable thoughts. So much of my life right now is mundane, every day just worried about getting through, getting through, getting through. Just the same thing, the same thoughts, the same frustrations, over and over, day after day. And every day I breathe a sigh of relief that I’ve lived through another one and somehow found something worthwhile in it. It is not splendid, it is not amazing, it is not wonderful – but every day I find something small to be proud of, or happy for, and I cling to those little things, swinging from day to day like I used to do on the bars, long ago. My palms always burned back then. I had calluses back then, very hard and thick for how small and dainty I was. I didn’t mind them so much. It meant I could swing better, with less pain – they were my cushion. It’s not so different now.
All this to say, I have nothing new to say. Nothing of note, nothing of interest. I went swimming. I made it through a work day without a major mistake. I talked and laughed with coworkers. I gave myself another lupron injection. It all sounds so simple, and I’ve done them each many times before. Does it really need discussing? I’d rather write about fabulous vacations and amazing epiphanies, but that’s not my life right now. It’s just day to day. Just getting through. Even starting another IVF starts to sound mundane on the fifth attempt.
Just like people don’t say that they are brushing their teeth, or eating breakfast, or putting on their shoes, neither do I say that I am grieving. Of course I am grieving. I do it every day. My heart beats faster when someone reads a book to their child and says, “Look, a sheepie!” I see children at my job every day. Sometimes I smile and chat, sometimes I pretend I don’t see them. Either way I’m functional. People probably just write me off as one of those women who doesn’t have kids, who isn’t interested. I don’t correct them.
I’m not quite sure how building my own life – separate from and not dependent on a child – is so damn difficult, and yet so lacking in words.
It is so difficult because, with every fiber of your being, you know you were meant to be a mom. While our goal needs to be finding happiness and peace- separate and not dependent on a child- you cannot be someone you know you are not, building a life that is not authentically what you envision for yourself. And you needn’t try to be. You are a loving, passionate woman, longing for a child of your own. From what I know of you, I know this to be true.
We (me and others on similar journeys) are with you through this dark road.
This post just spoke to me all over the place. I’m feeling pretty severely callused myself, and I’m only on my first post-stillbirth IVF (2nd one overall – because I was one of the “lucky” ones).
And this – “Just like people don’t say that they are brushing their teeth, or eating breakfast, or putting on their shoes, neither do I say that I am grieving. Of course I am grieving.” I broke down the first time I read that. You described it so perfectly. We only grieve when we’re breathing.
As for trying to build a life that is worthwhile without children, I don’t know how to do that while still simultaneously trying to have a child. I feel like I can do one or the other, but not both. I don’t have the energy for both.