shishnit.org

Me: What did they name the baby?Him: What baby?

Me: Just tell meHim: Matthew I guess…
Let’s go from insensitive to pretending the issue doesn’t exist? 

Let’s go from insensitive to pretending the issue doesn’t exist?  I can’t pretend.  That’s my entire problem.  I want to pretend to be happy.I can’t.I can’t.I want to pretend that it’s fair that a so called God blesses people who aren’t married with a child.It doesn’t feel fair.

It doesn’t feel fair.I’m told it’s not my place to decide what is fair or not fair.Is it my place to feel the way I feel?Is it my place to feel the way I feel?Can I just deal the best way I can?Let’s pretend…like my parents did.  That everything was ok…when it wasn’t.

Let’s pretend…like my parents did.  That everything was ok…when it wasn’t.Pretending doesn’t resolve anything.Me: Can you just give me something until I can get an appointment?

The Nurse: No because you filled out this paper that says you’re taking Megace.  That’s a powerful drug.  Something else might not be called for with your uterine issue’s.Me: Great…then.  Can you just shoot me?

The Nurse:  Are you suicidal?Me:  If I was, I wouldn’t ask you to shoot me…I’d be brave and do it myself.
 

Co-worker: Hope is that thing you can’t let go of. Me: No, hope is that thing that keeps bringing me deliveries of disappointment.  If I never hoped again, I would have never felt cheated again. 

Co-worker: You still don’t know how your next doctor’s appointment will turn out.Me: Yes I do.  I will be sent somewhere for a test.  Then I will be sent home.  Then a few weeks later I will be told something.  Then a few weeks after I recover from that news, I’ll be sent somewhere else.  I want to be done hoping, dreaming, wishing.  Done.Me: Yes I do.  I will be sent somewhere for a test.  Then I will be sent home.  Then a few weeks later I will be told something.  Then a few weeks after I recover from that news, I’ll be sent somewhere else.  I want to be done hoping, dreaming, wishing.  Done.Co-worker: So stop.Me: breathing?

Me: breathing?Co-worker: That’s not funnyMe: nope

Co-worker: You already have a child.

Me: You’ve already lived 33 years.  Do you still want to live another 33 or were those 33 enough?

“Him” - You’re not just allowed to be ugly like that.

Me: Why not…the situation is ugly.

About ten minutes ago I walked to the other side of the building to buy a cup of coffee.  There was a professor there that always says hello to me with his Scooby Doo impression.  He saw that I was desiring coffee.  He jumped in front of the line and told the concession girl that my coffee was on him. 

This was the first time I saw the surface of the water in the last 2 1/2 days. 

“Whom do you invite to this funeral
where there’s no body –
there hasn’t ever been a body?“ 

I keep my car keys in my right side pocket, my cellphone tucked into my bra on the left side and then I carry my heart bleeding on my sleeve.  I try not to bump into any walls as I walk through doors and hallways.  But it seems that all day today it has happened over and over again because I am tiptoeing around my own blood.  Re-smoothing out my wrinkles, re-bandaging my old wounds.

I suspect my blessings might equal someone else’s curse because what I see is not what someone else might feel.  I’m confused, angry, misunderstood and depressed, sad and yet happy.  Welcoming and yet I’m closing off, turning down my volumne, playing a slow tune to ease my own jagged edges. 

I am keeping my distance, not because the closeness to other’s is difficult but rather that the closeness to the source of my pain is overwhelming.  And yet I feel the guilt the weight of a thousand mountains on my weak shoulders.  I wish I could just cease..let go, move away.  Let out a sigh….find relief.

I forgot my responsibilities, my chores still listed yet not crossed out.  My breathing is ragged and my voice is a silent shout.  I know that I’m heard by many but not at all by some.  I keep reliving my old experiences…the nurse who asked me about my mother.  The husband who reminded me about my missing relativity.  And the man who wanted to end his baby making ways.  I relive it all and it feels like I’m purposely driving razor blades into my own eyelids just to color the tears, just to change my mind.  Just for no good reason than memories, sometimes they haunt.

I know it’s a boy…but I don’t have a name.  He’s stopped talking to me since this morning because his assumptions whacked me upside the head and he cannot manage to stay afloat in my tears.  So rather than drown I am now shut out…like the cold. Like the night.

He sounds so happy.  I understand.

I am alone.  I feel dead.

I have guilt…it’s the size of ten worlds.  Please don’t give me anymore.

Infertility and Depression

By Kelly Burgess

It’s probably not news that symptoms of depression often accompany infertility. Still, the medical community has traditionally focused on the physical aspect of infertility, ignoring the emotional roller coaster that couples ride during treatments. As new research shows the importance of emotional state to successful infertility treatments, the traditional focus will expand.
 

Studies show that 55 percent of patients who participate in mind/body therapy get pregnant within six months compared with 20 percent in a control group. In other words, it works both ways: Women who are depressed because of infertility also have lower rates of success with infertility treatments. Treating the depression may increase the chance for a successful pregnancy.
 

Beyond Sadness

Depression associated with infertility is not the same as typical depression. Lisa Tuttle, Ph.D., a psychologist who specializes in fertility counseling, says that depression related to infertility is a combination of emotions: not just sadness, but jealousy, anger and grief.

“Jealousy is probably the most painful, and more so because it’s not really a socially acceptable emotion,” says Tuttle. “There’s also guilt for depriving spouses and parents of a child, loneliness and often loss of faith.” Obsession is also a factor. Tuttle encounters many women who say they can’t stop thinking about it, that it haunts them even while they’re sleeping.

Marlo Schalesky wrote Empty Womb, Aching Heart (Bethany House Publishers, 2001) from her own experience with infertility. She calls depression almost a normal part of [infertility treatments]. “Part of the reason is that every month you’re reminded that you once again have failed to become pregnant,” she says.
 

Schalesky experienced the gamut of emotions, from jealousy when it seemed as if everyone else had children, to loneliness, to occasional crises of faith. “I struggled physically, emotionally and spiritually,” she says. “My faith helped in some ways, but in some ways it made it more difficult as well, because I had the additional question of why wouldn’t God bless me. I really struggled with the spiritual aspect of my infertility.”
 

Women’s Issues

What makes it even more difficult for women is that, even in very supportive marriages, their spouses may not understand what they’re going through. Men simply don’t react to the stress and anxiety of fertility treatments in the same way women do, says Dr. Mark P. Leondires.

more here…

http://preconception.com/resources/articles/nobabyblues.htm

The only thing that anyone can say to make it bearable…was said to me today.  Thank you who said it!

 “I’m sorry and I love you and it will be ok” 

So I was just wondering if Randy’s baby son will be my son’s step-cousin or what?  Do step cousins exist?  Life is complicated…no?