Nearly May

     I don't really have any new up-dates or anything important to say, really. I am tired. Tired right down to the depths of my soul. Right now, I feel like giving up and letting go. Everything I thought I wanted in life and what I thought came naturally, seems completely intangible at the moment. I met the man I love and thought that meant we would be a happy couple for the rest of our lives. Of course I knew there would be rocky patches and rough times, but I thought they might be fleeting compared to our happiness in being a couple. What happened Monday night has shaken my belief in us. The demands being placed on me have made me seriously question my husbands sincere devotion to me and love for me. I am unsure of the next minute, the next hour, the next day let alone the next week, the next month, or the next year. I feel utterly shattered inside. How much must I endure? Joyfulness and happiness has slowly leached out of my life in the trials of infertility in these past two years. And, as if that were not enough, I am now faced with the dissolution of my marriage. I do not want this. I can't even bring myself to say the "d" word. And I am not saying that we are that point - yet. But, I have never felt so unloved as I did Monday night and even these days following. I know you don't know the whole story. It seems silly that I am reticent to share this with you when you know all the intimate details of things like when I am ovulating (or that I am not ovulating), when I have my period or when it is late, and when Flaco and I have sex. So, if you are the type of person who likes to stare at car accidents as you drive past, keep reading and I will reveal the horrid tale.

     This shall be the Readers Digest version because quite frankly I am tired of telling the story and reliving the story at this point. If you recall, I told part of the story on Sunday, how Flaco refused to attend the Easter dinner at my parents house and instead went to eat at a friends house. I told you how this makes me feel like his friends are more important than me and how I hate that he does not relish spending time with me on one of his infrequent days off. I was rather pissed off at him. He was asleep when I came home. And sleeping on my side of the bed no less. So, I watched some TV, got myself ready for bed, and went to sleep on the couch. Sometime after midnight Flaco woke up, went to the bathroom and wanted to know why I was on the sofa and demanded I come to bed. I pretended to be asleep and that I did not hear him. Really, I was uncomfortable on the couch, but I refused to budge. I'll show him (with my stiff neck and aching back), so there. The next day I went to work as usual. After work, I came home and Flaco was here of course. It was his day off. I ate dinner and got ready to go to a meeting that night. Flaco came and asked me if I was going to speak to him. I just stared at him, waiting for him to make the first move. He walked away. I went to my meeting and afterwards I went to the grocery store to get some milk. When I got back into my car, I checked my phone, which had been on silent. I had received a message from Nelson. Basically, it said he had made his decision and felt it was best for both of us and wished me well. He had left. So, of course I called him. We had a terrible conversation in which I cried (ok sobbed) and begged him to meet with me so we could talk face-to-face. He remained steadfast in his decision. I freaked. I called my parents and I was sobbing so hard (hysterically, really) that my mom could not understand me. She simply said, "Ok, hang on we are coming down" and hung up. Then I called my sister. She talked with me (or really, listened to me cry so hard she had to keep telling me to breathe) until my parents arrived a little after 11 pm. Slowly and painfully, the story came out. My dad looked so angry, it was probably a good thing Flaco was not there (My dad is relatively slow to anger, but once he is angry look out! He also does this thing where he literally bites his tongue and you can see him clenching his jaw. Many times my mom has warned him he will bite off his tongue, if he doesn't stop). So, while there were there, my mom decided to call Flaco and tell him he needs to be a man and come home and talk to his wife, that this is simply not how an adult handles things. They stayed with me until I calmed down a bit - well after 12 am. The house never felt so big and empty to me as it did that night. I haven't slept alone in this house since Flaco came her 4 1/2 years ago (I was alone in the house for about 6 weeks before Flaco's paperwork went through - although I was rarely here since I was working two jobs like a crazy woman). Flaco called me around 1:20 am asking me why I had my mom call him. I said I didn't have her call that it was her own idea. Then he preceded to tell me his demands. Yes, he had three demands and if I agree, he would come back. His demands were 1) I give more credence to his opinions and his ideas, 2) I get rid of one of the dogs (Toby, the husky) and both of the cats (so we would only have my dog that I brought back from Nicaragua), and 3) that he can have what he wants, which is a truck. I told him I would consider it. I told him I wanted us to get therapy as my command and he shot it down. We ended our conversation around 2 am. I tried to sleep, tossing and turning my my side of the bed. For once, the cats got to sleep in the bed (Flaco hates having animals in the bed) with me. Around 3 am I got up to use the bathroom. At some time after that I fell asleep. I awoke again around 5 am. I tossed and turned but could not fall back asleep. I finally got up when my alarm went off at 6:30 am. I tried to fix myself up as best as I could and went to work. I did not call or text Flaco, waiting for him to contact me first. I was such a hot mess that I asked to leave work early. A friend from work suggested I do a drive by and see if Flaco was where I suspected he was at. Flaco told me he was over an hour away and asked that I not try to find him and that I not contact his work (he told me he was quitting his job and moving to another state - if you knew Flaco, this would make you laugh. He doesn't know anyone nearby, only in Florida or California, neither of which are close to where we live in PA). I drove by a place I thought he might be on my way home from work, which I had left at 2 pm. His car was not there. I had to stop by the bank to make a deposit (Flaco usually does this for me, but well, you know). I got home around 2:30. Flaco's car was parked outside. I was so nervous entering my own home. I saw Flaco's friend Pepe sitting at our kitchen table, but did not see Flaco. His friend told me he was asleep. Good to know he didn't get a good night's sleep either. I sat and talked to his friend for a little while, until Flaco woke up and joined us in the kitchen. His friend escaped outside, saying he needed to get some fresh air. Flaco was still visibly angry as he sat down at the kitchen table. We talked for a bit. I made him look me in the eyes and tell me that he cared for me because I truly felt like he did not. He said that is why he was back. Through careful negotiations I convinced him to speak to the pastor, once. This was in exchange for meeting his demands, sort of. Later that night we met with the pastor and his wife. Right up to the second we walked into the Dunkin Donuts, where we were meeting with the pastor and his wife, Flaco was telling me how pointless this was, how much he didn't believe in the pastor or that he could help us, and how is only meeting with him once. But, once we were inside he was as sweet as pie. And he agreed to meet with the pastor again Thursday night. Wednesday and Thursday Flaco seemed to be in a fine mood, happy even. I felt and still feel, hurt and bruised. Last night Flaco cancelled on his meeting with the pastor, telling him Monday would be better. And again he told me how pointless he thinks this is. And I sink deeper and deeper into utter despair.

     And so here we are. I am supposed to meet with the pastor and his wife at some point tomorrow. And I guess we will see what will happen for Monday. Flaco apparently does not see any need to getting some help for us. Is it possible that he just doesn't know how much he has hurt me? Is he so daft as not to realize that his demands are unrealistic and very, very selfish? I feel bad saying such mean things about my own husband, but they are also true things. I am just so hurt by the lack of consideration for me and my feelings. I know this blog was supposed to be about our journey to start a family, but this is apparently part of our process. Unfortunately. Hopefully, this is the last ordeal we will have to endure before we have our joy and happiness.  

From bad to waaaaaaay waaaaaay worse

     So. My last blog was not a pleasant one. I wish I could say things got better from there. Well, they did but first they got a lot worse. Catastrophic, in fact. I won't bore you with all the dirty details, but it was uuuuggg-ah-lee. Basically, Flaco walked out on me. He came back, but not after a night apart. A sleepless night, I might add. Through careful negotiations, I got Flaco to agree to get some counseling with the pastor from the church I attend. The pastor speaks English and Spanish and is originally from Puerto Rico. This is a huge step in the right direction. We have decided to put a hold on trying to have a baby so we can fix these numerous issues in our relationship. I hate to do it, but it makes sense right now. We agreed to reevaluate each month, if we would like to actively try. In the midst of this insanity, Aunt Flo shows up, with very painful cramps. Just what I needed to confirm that life sucks at the moment. I feel so empty. I feel like every last fiber of myself has been drained away and I am left with a functioning body but nothing else. No heart, no feeling, no dreams, no nothing. I need find all of these pieces of me and figure out how to reassemble them. But, I can only do parts of it. Flaco needs to be willing to help fix this hot mess. This is a hidden twist in the plot. I guess we shall have to keep putting one foot in front of the other to see where this twist takes us. Stay tuned.

Just when you think a bad day can't get any worse . . .

     So earlier today I posted how I tortured myself this morning. I figured this was my only pain for the day, but alas, it was not to be so. This morning Flaco got up and went to play soccer with some friends. He does this several mornings through-out the week and usually he is back by 9:30 or 10:00 am. So, he left at the ungodly hour of 7:30 am and didn't get back until 12:45. After I woke up at the much more respectable hour of 9:00 am, I took the futile test, had breakfast, and took a shower. I was texting my sister about possibly going to play mini golf before we had Easter dinner. I was listening to a CD I made for myself that I titled "Happy Songs" to help my shitty mood. It was working. I was feeling better after my shower. By the time Flaco got home, I was ready to head out to the farm. Now, I must tell you that I told Flaco twice this week that my mother had invited us to dinner at her place. I am telling you this because it was not a surprise to him what I had planned to do today. Anyway, Flaco comes home and asks me where I was going. I explained, patiently, that I was going to the farm and remember my mother invited us over for dinner. He said, "Oh, well Maria's husband invited us over to eat with them." He works with Maria but does not know her husband very well. I must interject here that the reason Flaco was home later than normal is because he took my poor precious kitty, Brisa (this is her real name) to visit with their cat. The poor thing came home traumatized! So, he was at their place and now wanted to go back. This is the same type of fight we have every single holiday. For me, a holiday is time to spend with family, especially the more traditional ones like Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Other holidays we can do whatever. And I have tried to explain to Flaco that is hurts my feelings when he doesn't want to spend time with me. And sometimes, even if we go to visit my family, he only wants to stay for like .2 seconds and then peace out. I don't know if it would be different if we could be with his family on holidays, if they lived closer than 2 three hour plane rides away. But, regardless, I am sick of having this same dam fight.
     So, maybe I am a terrible wife, but if I am then so be it. Is it so bad to want to spend time with my husband? I mean we never do anything together. My sister and her boyfriend are going camping and white water rafting. They are going to spend Memorial Day weekend at the beach. They visit his family and my family together. Flaco and I have never gone camping, or white water rafting, or spent the night at the beach or any of the other things that I think "normal" couples do. I lost count of how many weddings I have gone to alone because Flaco is always working. So, today he decided to chose his friends over me. I realize that you are only getting my side of the story, but I really don't care. Flaco made a crappy day just down right miserable. I want to be with my husband. To feel like a couple, not a fifth wheel (which is how I felt since everyone else was paired up; Mom and Dad, sister and boyfriend, brother and girlfriend, then stupid lonely me). I don't even know if this rambling post is making sense anymore. I am just so thoroughly disgusted. I feel like I am not remotely important to my husband. I am sick to death of the fights every dam holiday. Is it so bad to want to spend one full, entire day with my own husband? I feel rightly justified in my anger. I don't even want to be in the same house with him, I am that angry. How do we fix this? I mean, if he doesn't want to be with me, then that is it. I don't want to be with someone who can't even stand to be in my presence unless he's getting his rocks off. I don't know what to do. I feel like complete and utter shit; physically, mentally, and emotionally. I'm not sure if there could be anything to make this day worse.

Oh no you didn't!

     Oh, yes I did. I convinced myself that my dream (which I had again last night) was not just a dream, but in fact, it was a premonition of sorts. So, when I woke up this morning, I decided it could be an "Easter miracle." Because the original miracle wasn't enough? Anyway, I woke up all convinced that I should take the test. I mean, the spotting has not increased, in fact it seems to have tapered off. That has happened before, only to be followed by my period. But, I let it fool me every time. Well, as I am sure you can guess by now, the test revealed that there is no "Easter miracle" for me and that my dream was just my subconscious mind messing with me. I am taking it surprisingly well. I haven't balled my eyes out. Yet. I guess it's just as well. I think I might have a sinus infection and since I refrain from taking medicine until I am sure I am not pregnant, I can now take medicine guilt-free. Today Flaco and I are going to the farm to have Easter dinner with my parents, my sister Barbie, and her boyfriend Ken (clearly, not their real names, but they are too perfect; my sister is skinny with a nice rack and her boyfriend is tall and nicely muscular). It will be nice. If it doesn't rain we might go play mini golf. It will be a very nice day with family. I hope everyone else has a lovely Easter. Maybe even find an Easter miracle.  

Just a Dream

     I had a dream last night that I woke up Easter morning, took a pregnancy test and it was positive. I was bursting at the seems to tell my family over the traditional Easter ham dinner. It was quite a lovely dream. But, alas, it was only a dream. Spotting has commenced today and as surely as the sun will come out tomorrow, my period will follow. I am teetering on the brink of despair, pushing myself to say, "It's ok. Really, it's fine. My body is just preparing itself for a baby next month." Because, as any infertile can tell you, until the full Flo has arrived, there is still that desperate clinging to any possible hope beyond hope that it's just the elusive "implantation bleeding," which I doubt exists. See this is a sick, twisted game I play with myself every month. Or at least every month in the past 2 + years. Spotting starts anytime from 10 days to a few hours before my period arrives. When I first notice it, I tell myself, "Well, that's it this month is a dud." But then some other part (perhaps the insane part) of my brain tells me," Now, wait a cotton-pickin' minute. You could still be pregnant. Spotting is common in early pregnancy. It could simply be implantation bleeding." As much as I tell this part of myself to stuff it, she screeches back louder and louder the longer I spot without getting my period. Month after agonizing month, this internal battle wages inside my head. On many occasions, the evil, insane side talks loud enough and long enough to convince the little sane part that there is still HOPE! It is still POSSIBLE! And then . . . . The epic crash. So, here I am again. Sane Me says, "It's your period. Get over it." Insane Me says, "It could just be random spotting! It could be implantation bleeding! A lot of women spot in the first trimester of their pregnancies. You never know. Take a test and see!"
     I am just exhausted from this whole ordeal. I am more than ready for this to be over already! I want my baby. MY BABY with Flaco's beautiful, thick, dark eye lashes. With my sometimes green, sometimes blue eyes. I want MY BABY to hold and kiss and cuddle. I want to take her to visit my mom and take walks with her in a stroller. I want to nap with her sleeping on my chest. I want my precious baby to love and to be in complete awe over. I don't want the tears anymore. I don't want to feel so sad and so desperate. I don't want to feel incomplete and wonder when, when, when it will happen. One of the hardest things about this whole miserable ordeal is the not knowing. Not knowing if or when I will have a baby to love and to hold. Not knowing if infertility will ever relinquish it's cruel hold on my body and my life. Not knowing if I will ever feel the first fluttering kicks of a baby growing in my womb. As the months drag on and on and as more and more friends get pregnant quickly and easily, the dream seems more like it is just that - a dream. A surreal and unrealistic story tale. I might as well dream about living on the moon. . . . .

Bamboozled

     So, a week after finding out about a newly pregnant friend, another woman I know announced her pregnancy at a meeting tonight. Because, a week is just too long to go without having your heart broken. You know, really things have been going well for me this past week and it pisses me off that this dam infertility has to squeeze in and mess it all up. I could barely look at this woman tonight as she made the announcement, all giddy and over-the-moon happy. She said her and her husband had been trying for a little over a year and weren't expecting it, but there is was - test positive!! My period is due this weekend (for Easter, why not?) and I am sure we can all rest assured that that ugly bitch Flo will come and wreck the party like she always does. Pregnant friend is due November 22nd. She posted on her Facebook page tonight. I still hate her. Since I am certifiably insane, I checked on what my due date would be if I were to get pregnant this month. January 1st. I like to pick at scabs and emotionally self-mutilate myself. Well, it is late. I just needed to post about poor, poor pitiful me. I shall now go cry myself to sleep for the millionth time. Buenas noche.

Secret Confessions of an Infertile Mind

Yesterday’s e-mail conversation:

Newly pregnant friend T: “Hey there. How are you?”
Me: “Hi! I’m ok. How are you doing?” – thinking to myself, “I wonder why she is contacting me out of the blue like this?”T:  “I’m good. . . I have some news for you . . . . I have been waiting to tell you because I wanted to be sure . . . . . I just don’t want you to be upset.
Me: “Congratulations! I must say, I have been expecting it . . . “ – what I wanted to say, “ Oh my god, you’ve got to be f-ing kidding me?! Seriously?! Just stab me in the dam heart and get it over with already!! This f-ing sucks!!”T: “It happened the last month we were going to try. . . I really didn’t think it would happen. But I wanted to tell you before it was on Facebook or anything. You are one of my very good friends and I wanted you to know before the whole world knew.”
Me: “Thank you. I am very happy for you. How are you feeling?” – what I wanted to say, “I’m dying inside. This isn’t fair. The last month you were going to try?! Wtf!! You really didn’t think it was going to happen, but it DID. When I really think it isn’t going to happen, I am right. It doesn’t. Hell, when I really think it will happen, it doesn’t. F this!”T: “Like poo . . . .  nauseous all the time. . . . and fat and very, very tired!”
Me: “I’m sorry you feel like poo. It will pass after the first few months.” – what I wanted to say, “I would give my left eye to feel like that!!! I would take throwing up every hour on the hour every day for the next nine months, if it only meant I would get a baby at the end of it all!!! Excuse me while I try to feel sorry for you. . . “T: “R u alright?”
Me: “It’s not about me right now. But thank you for worrying about me. When are you due?” – what I wanted to say, “No, I am not alright. I am the farthest thing from alright at this moment. I hate you a little bit right now. How is that alright?!”T: “I’m not sure yet. My first Dr’s appointment is next Tuesday. . . . if I did my calculations correct, I would be due the end of November.”
Me: “Very exciting! Are you going to try to find out if you are having a boy or a girl? (I know, that is several months away yet) – what I want to say, “You are going to have a baby before me. And it only took you five FLIPPING  short moths of trying!!! Life is not fair.”T: “I don’t know. . . probably because I am not good with suspense.”
Me: “Well, it is great news and I am sure everyone is excited!” – what I want to say, “Not great with suspense?! Try waiting over two years and STILL NOT BEING PREGNANT for suspense. It’s spine-tingling!!”T: “Yeah, we are. It’s scary too! Thanks for being such a good friend.”     
Me: “You’re welcome. Being a good friend is easier to do over e-mail.” – what I wanted to say, “If we were doing this face to face I doubt you would call me a good friend. It’s much easier to censor my responses when I can type them out. In reality, I am crushed and trying so hard to dig up some feelings of joy for you. Right now, it ain’t happenin’.”T: “Yes that is why I told you this way . . . I know it would have been more appropriate to call you but I know what you are going through and I know this hurts you. . . . and just so you know . . . I totally understand. I understand if you want to keep your distance for a while. . . just please don’t avoid me the whole time, I would miss you!”
Me: “I don’t want to avoid you. I would like to avoid other things, but I won’t avoid you. I’ve done this before (not avoided people, but dealt with my own sh*t in this way before). It does hurt, which is why I must keep reminding myself that it is not about me. I am happy for you!” - what I really, really wanted to say, “You know what I am going through?! You gave yourself five f-ing months to get pregnant and here you are! Pregnant! You can’t possibly know what I am going through. Sure, you can try to imagine the endless pain and heartache. But, you don’t know!!! Deep down in your heart of hearts you have not experienced the monthly loss and the fear and shame of telling your husband, ‘hey sorry dude, you ain’t gonna be a daddy anytime soon!’  I know you are trying to be nice right now and deep down somewhere, the good me thanks you. But, shut the f up already, with you understand and you know how I feel!! Because you don’t. You just don’t.” T: “Thank you! It means a lot!”
Me: “You’re welcome.” - but what I really want to say is, “F- off!! Go take your working uterus and shove it!”     
     So, as one might expect, I can’t get my newly pregnant friend out of my head. I told Flaco about her last night. Our conversation went something like this (well, it was in Spanish, but you get the point).
Me “Flaco, you remember my friend T, right?” (funny side note, my husband cannot pronounce her name, so he calls her Estefanie)
Flaco, looking at my tear-stained face, “Yeah. She’s pregnant right? I told you.” I’m not sure what he meant by “I told you” but regardless, he has come to assume that if I am going to tell him about one of my friends it is because she is pregnant.
     This lead to a discussion (or more like me grilling him) on what we will do in our pursuit of our own pregnancy. Flaco stated he does not want to spend any more money on treatments. I asked him what he wants to do, meaning do you want to just give up on having kids period or are you ready to consider other options. He is dead set against adoption. It makes me so angry. I hate that I might never know what it feels like to be pregnant, but for the love of God, must I also not know what it feels like to be someone’s mother? I told him that I don’t want to go through life without having children and if I cannot have them “naturally” then I want to adopt. He does not think he will love someone else’s child. I said, “But it will be your child! He or she will have your name. Don’t you think that if there is a baby relying on you to take care of it and if he calls you Daddy, that you won’t grow to love him? It might be hard at first, but don’t you think you could love a baby that loves you?” And he stopped talking, promptly fell asleep while I cried myself to sleep.
     I don’t know where this leaves us. I hate ambiguity. I hate it almost as much as I hate PCOS and needles. I feel like we need a cut off date. Like, if we don’t get pregnant in the next two years then we will start the adoption procedures or something like that. Flaco seems completely content to live in vagueness. He seems unworried about what our next step could or should be.
     Quite frankly, I don’t want to wait anymore. Not one more day, not one more hour, not even for how long it takes me to type out this sentence. I am through with waiting. Haven’t I waited long enough? What the hell am I doing so wrong that I can’t have a baby?! I feel a rant coming on. . . It took my friend five lousy months to get pregnant. I have been waiting almost 6 times longer than that and I am still not pregnant!! I have already seen two doctors, been driven to the brink of insanity with medicine, been poked, prodded, x-rayed, scanned, and penetrated to oblivion. AND I STILL HAVE NOT HAD A DAM BABY!!! I’ve imagined myself pregnant so many times, that I am surprised my body has not taken to lactating just for sheer spite. I have cajoled, prayed, begged, demanded, cried, yelled, and raged to get pregnant. I have tried to think positive. I have tried to trick my body into getting pregnant by thinking the opposite – surely I will  get pregnant if I tell my body I don’t want to!? I have tried to ignore the whole dam thing. I had hope and I had moments when I felt for sure it was my time. AND I STILL DON’T HAVE A DAM BABY!!!! If it had only taken me five months to get pregnant I would have a baby over a year old now. Life is so unfair it sucks ass!!!
     If I were a better person, I would look at it this way: I have had a relatively easy life. I have not experienced extreme personal loss, like some of my friends. My parents are both alive and well. Both of my siblings are still living. I have a college education and I have had some adventures. I have a home and a job and a husband. Three of my four original grandparents are still living (my mom’s mom died from breast cancer when I was five, so I was too young to be traumatized by it). I had a good childhood (long story, but at my old job in a drug and alcohol facility, they made us attend this co-dependency workshop and I have never realized how great my childhood was until I heard these people’s stories. I was so thankful that I called my mom on my way home to thank her for not messing me up and for my wonderful childhood growing up on the farm). I did well in school without too much effort. I do well at my jobs without too much effort. This issue with infertility has been my first big challenge (well, being a Peace Corps volunteer in Nicaragua was a huge challenge too, but a different kind of challenge. At least then I knew, when times were tough, it would be over in two years). This issue has been my first great trial (well, living with my brother after he morphed into a hideous alien at age 15 was quite a trial, but I was on the peripheral, not in the thick of things). So, I should be grateful that this has been the first big bump in the road for me. It is just my time to be tried by the fire so that I might come out a stronger, more valuable gem.
     But, I’m not that good of a person. I’m a so-so good person. And the way I see it is, I’ve been tried long enough. I’ve been hurting long enough. I have waited my turn and seen others get what I have been waiting for with relative ease. I have been dealt a raw deal on this hand. And there is no end in sight. At least not one I can see. How do I put one foot in front of the other, day in and day out. How do I smile and laugh when inside my heart and soul are dying? How do I give up on a dream I am biologically predisposed to want? How do I stop imagining my child’s first steps, first day of school, graduation, wedding? How can I live a fulfilled life without children when I have always known I wanted to have them? How? Someone tell me how!!!! 

Another one Bites the Dust

     The dreaded day has arrived. One of many dreaded days, I suppose. A friend of mine, who told me in November she was going to try to get pregnant with her husband before he gets deployed again next year (so, they were trying from November to March only – just to give it a whirl, see how it goes), emailed me today to tell me the wonderful news. She will be due most likely in November (she will get her due date after seeing her doctor next Tuesday). A year after she started trying. And I am still waiting. This was the last month they were going to try, to ensure the baby would be born before the proud new papa leaves. I hate it. I f-ing hate how simple it is for other people. Oh, sure she told me how worried she was about them having a hard time getting pregnant. She worried because in the 12 years (they are high school sweethearts) they have been together, she has never needed to take a test, even before they started using more technologically advanced birth control than the pull out method. It seems, that just because they now want a baby, viola! They get pregnant. I really want to be happy for her/them. But, “my give a dam’s busted.”
     She told me today via email while we were both at work. She wanted me to know before it gets posted on Facebook. She knows that we have been trying for over 2 years (28 months to be exact, but who’s counting?) and that getting news like this just rips my heart out. I told her and now I want to believe myself, that it is not about me, it is about her right now and that I am happy for her. In reality? I’m pissed. Generally speaking, I don’t like curse words. But, right now I could let out a whole long string of them. Like this: #$%%^*^*(@$!!!!!  You get the idea. To stop myself from bawling at work, I told myself that it doesn’t matter, she is just one of many, many friends/acquaintances who have gotten pregnant and had a baby before me. Most likely, she will not be the last. And since we got a nice hefty bill from the last procedure I had, any future infertility treatments are a long way off for me and Mr. Flaco. I am angry. Just down right furious at this stupid condition (I refuse to call it a disease – my stupid way of taking the sting out of it I guess).
     Some days it seems silly to be so worked up over something that hasn’t happened in only two years. I mean, two years, that is not a very long time, right? In the grand scheme of things two years is nothing. It’s not even a blip on the screen of human history. Yet, other days, two years feels like a life time. It feels like decades and centuries. And the insurmountable pain never decreases. The ache never lessens. The deep yearning and sadness only intensifies with every passing day. I think I stayed away from my blog for so long, posting random little things, because I was tired of facing these feelings. I was tired of feeling. Period. I wanted to pretend I really didn’t care anymore. I wanted to act as if it doesn’t matter, if it happens, it happens. Oh, to be so laid back! But, today these old feelings of anger and sorrow came bubbling up from the depths where I hid them. They threaten to over-take me, yet again. For most of the afternoon at work, I struggled to keep the tears from streaming down my cheeks. I went to the bathroom to compose myself, only to start the mad, rapid blinking trying to convince my eyes not to release the tears. Why is life so unfair? It’s not that I believe this friend doesn’t deserve a baby, because she does. I know she will be a great mom. But, don’t I deserve the same? Don’t I? Hello? Bueller? Bueller?
     I know when the time comes, I will be there for my friend. I know I will yet again stuff my feelings of utter betrayal (of my body, not my friend) deep down inside to be happy, happy, happy and giddy, giddy, giddy for her at the baby shower and of course the birth. I will celebrate with her when she finds out if her baby will be a boy or a girl. And I will listen to her whine about feeling sick and fat and uncomfortable. And the whole time, a tiny little part of me will scream, “NOT FAIR!! NOT FAIR!! NOT FAIR!!!” It isn’t f-ing fair at all. But, nowhere is it written that life is fair. So, I will suck it up. I will put on my big girl panties and get on with life.