My infertility versus my miscarriageJune 8, 2009
Last night my husband looked at me with an expression I never saw before. What’s the matter? I asked him. Nothing, he said, I just wish so much you could be a mother. You want it so much and each time I see you I see someone who does not feel complete. I so badly want you to feel complete.
I’ve been thinking a lot during this two week wait (incase the incessant posting has not made this obvious) about infertility and the nature of the emotions that course through me. My miscarriage was one huge blow, a hammer thrown from across the room tearing my insides in two. My infertility is a twisting around my heart every month. I grieve my miscarriage but it happened. It was a tangible thing that was. I can count down, two weeks since my miscarriage… three weeks… two months.. three months… but this infertility business- this is horrifying. It’s month after month after month of fresh new pain, fresh new disappointment and grief.
Being infertile makes me sometimes feel I’m trapped in a maze and I’m unable to find my way out. I am so tired of trying. I am so sick of two week waits. The prospect of months or years of more of the same is so daunting that a part of me wants to just give up. Just forget about having kids and accept being childless. At least I can move on. This infertility thing is a sentence to an eternal grounddog day.
I’m sick of being Charlie Brown. I’m sick of Lucy pulling the football at the last possible moment. I’m sick of falling for it each and every single fucking time. I’m really tired. Part of me really wants to stop playing.