Wednesday 30 October 2013

Glutton for Punishment

I do it to myself. I can't seem to help myself. This seems to be the spiral that my brain does:

"Hey Karen, you seem to be in a really shitty mood. You haven`t eaten all day, you need more sleep, and your list of things to do is a mile a long. You know what would be fun? If you went onto Facebook...

Look up that friend you hid from your timeline....

You know, the one who knows all about your miscarriage, has assured you that you're fertile, and who wasn't trying to get pregnant but now is and said "now you gotta getter done so our babies can be besties?"

Yeah, her. Look at her timeline and her most recent status update...

Oh, she's feeling really tired and wants to puke? What do the comments say?

Aww, everyone is guessing (correctly) that she's knocked up! Well, I guess you should feel really bad now...

And blog about it. Can't Facebook rant, because she's on there. Can't instagram, because she's on there, and you can't even write a cryptic tweet because she's on there, too! You really don't need to complain about it again on the TTCAL boards, because you've done that lots, and your husband doesn't want to hear you complain now when you walked right into it, and your mom doesn't get it. So, blog."

I have decided that I don't care if she's pregnant or how far along; if she complains to me about it, she will get a piece of my mind. I would love to be tired and nauseous and achy and crampy and hungry and excited and nervous and everything else that goes with being pregnant. I would love to have a little baby growing in me again. To have that chance to be a parent. I would love to, and after having all of it taken away, I don't think I could bring myself to complain about one single symptom. How could I? How could I complain about the side effects of the best thing in my life?

I'm at a loss as to what to do with all of these feelings. "Cry it out" seems to be the best solution. How many tears will it take until I stop doing this .... I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. Between the miscarriage and growing hatred of my job, even my MK mentor said I was wilting.

TANGENT: I love my MK mentor. She is such a loving, Godly woman, and I am blessed to have her in my life. She helps find the silver lining. She was over the other day to help me shine up that silver lining, and we had a really good talk. She's a doodler, and at one point she had written "Joy" on the paper (and then surrounded it with hearts) and said she wants me to have that back. She can see that I've lost that. And every time I do MK I put on the happiest face I can muster. And she can still see that I'm wilting. I know I am.

I am wilting. I had big plans for this time of year: I would be working hard to get all my work cleaned up, because I was going to go on mat leave before Christmas. December 15th or something like that - I would've been 7 months along. Fuck work! I needed to de-stress and find out all I could about making my own baby food, and find something cute to wear for Christmas dinners. Now at Christmas, I'll be lucky to be just barely further along than I was the first time.

I keep circling back to this. All of this "I was supposed to be" and "We were going to" and "If only".

But for now, I'm going to be strong and I will persevere because I am hopeful. Because maybe it's easier to be hopeful and happy than tired and sorrowful. Only one way to find out.

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