I was trying to explain to Ted the other day why the end of seasons, the approach of holidays, birthdays, and other milestones make me cringe inside and begin that dreaaaadddddddddd, the kind that just weighs you down and it's hard to put your finger on exactly what you are dreading.
I know in my head I have made so much personal growth over the last few years. I know that. But as each month passes that we still haven't began our family I get that feeling of being locked in the box, not being able to progress or move forward, and the feeling of being STUCK. And it makes me crazy. CRAZY. Claustrophobic. Frantic! I have nightmares about suffocating, about being paralyzed while everyone else is moving forward. Just blissfully ignorant to the idea that their desires might not be met--because why wouldn't they? I know I'm not the only person who is working towards a goal that has become very long term--everyone has things they want to be different! I know there is so much more to life than this one thing I'm working towards. In a perfect world, I would just be filling my life with a million other things and just making magic happen in other areas of my life. Hah. Reality check--this roller coaster pretty much dominates my life and distracts me from doing other things. I resent other people sometimes, just in the sense that their lives just seem to effortlessly move along at a normal pace. Long waiting periods are just months, not years (not just about having kids but any "issue" they are working on). Is there something wrong with me that I just simply can't "make" things happen the way it seems that other people do?
I remember one time (before I quit Facebook) someone was writing about a situation in their lives that had resolved (I know, vague, but the situation isn't really the factor in why I remember it) . Everyone was just so excited for them (I was too, it was a good thing). People kept exclaiming "YOUR LONG PERIOD IN THE DESERT IS OVER!!! YOU WENT THROUGH SO MUCH!!!! ALL THAT WAITING AND YOU DESERVE IT!!!" I struggled SO much with this. At the time I was still very much in my own desert, not telling anyone about vaginismus, not knowing what was going on with me, and just having so much doubt and hurt and my life. There was literally no end in sight. I was annoyed (and still get annoyed) by people who cannot tolerate their lives being slightly less than perfect for two minutes. I know this is mean. Because we all have different struggles and you never know what someone is really going through and to judge it harshly is just good for no one.
I say this also knowing full well there are people out there who have lost multiple children, tried to conceive for decades and spent thousands of dollars and still have no children, to these people maybe I'm the person who "cannot tolerate their lives being slightly less than perfect for two minutes".
Maybe I'm someone who wouldn't be able to survive recurring miscarriage. Maybe I would resent my children and husband had I gotten pregnant early on in our marriage--not know what I had and not taken it seriously enough. There is a reason my story is this and not someone else's. I KNOW THAT.
It doesn't mean I still don't mourn the summer packing it's suitcase and yet another season on the way and I am still here at the station, the same.