To try and pinpoint what makes infertility so sucky (for lack of a more educated term), is hard to do. I could say a lot of generic, mushy, I just really want a baby, crap. But I’ve always been pretty blunt on here, so I’ll keep that going. It sucks because it is an arena where you have NO control. You can tell yourself that you do, and that if you chart and temp, that you can take a little control back. You can say that by reading and researching methods and procedures, that you are getting a handle on it. You can even tell yourself that just by being open and honest about it and facing it head-on, that you are in fact in complete control of your feelings and diagnosis. But at the end of the day, when those two lines aren’t there, or when that newfangled contraption flat out says “NO”, or just when you find yourself thinking too hard at night, you will suddenly come to the conclusion that all of that is hogwash. You have no control of how fate is going to play this thing out.
There is a part of me that wants to keep these feelings to myself this evening, because they are personal, and painful, but the fact of the matter is that beyond the goal of bringing infertility to light in my community, I really just need to vent sometimes. I guess in the greater scope, I can also say that by my venting, someone else who doesn’t know how to articulate their utter despair, can tag along and cosign on my grief. So for that somebody, here you go.
There are times in my life, where I look around and feel really, truly blessed. I know a lot of people who at my same age, have never achieved many of the things for which I sometimes take for granted. I am four months from my fifth year of marriage, rounding the corner towards the final stretch into my first masters degree and contemplating whether or not to pursue the PhD. I have a great family who for some reason seems to think I’m pretty intelligent, and values my words, (even when they act like they don’t). I’ve met some of my idols and been on first name basis with mentors I never knew I’d gain. I’ve been a debutante, a radical, a recluse and an activist. I’ve founded causes, fought for others, and made changes in my world. And none of it, was by any strength of my own. I’ve fallen accidentally into blessings that others are still trying to attain.
But there is a flip to this coin. One side has been completely due to divine interventions where my faith has stepped in on my behalf and made things happen that I’ve only dreamed about. But its when I do try, that I seem to fall short. Divine intermissions happen when I’m doing my absolute best, and I have no control over them.
I have never really been big on eating, but have always been overweight. I have gone out for things that I felt truly qualified for, only to find that circumstances halt me just as I am nearing success. I am always too loud, too tall, too much, too something. And though I want to pull out a big “the sun’ll come out tomorrow” smile and say, “I’m good enough, strong enough, and doggone it, people like me”, I can’t help but feel like the whole thing is drastically unfair. How is it that I can stumble into things that turn out wonderfully, but fail miserably whenever I apply myself?
Or better yet, to get to my real gripe, why does God say “no”, “wait”, “and not yet”, to me when in regards to this body?
He doesn’t often give me what I ask for when I ask for it, and will usually give me something I wasn’t even thinking about instead.
There are cliche reasons of course. “He doesn’t give you what you want, when what you need is better”, and yadda, yadda, yadda. But I’ve run out of cliche stamina. I don’t want to hear that.
I want to understand.
I’m pretty smart, I think, but I’m drawing an extreme blank on this thing. I don’t get it.
As India Arie says, I’m trying to get down to the heart of the matter, and I’m stuck.
I don’t take any of the good things in my life for granted. At least, I try not to.
But I spend a lot of time heartbroken.
And I’m really tired.
To put it into perspective, at the same time as many of the great things were occurring, I was also spending an enormous amount of time in waiting rooms and exam rooms, and pharmacy lines, and on the phone with doctors, and have yet to receive an acceptable explanation. Even before the baby thing. I can not seem to make my body do what I want it to do. Which for the most part, is just FUNCTION NORMALLY.
And I’m really tired.
It is hard to say, “YAY, I got an A!”, when you’re suffering from menorraghia.
And walking in marathons can give you a good feeling for the cause, but going home to pump yourself full of iron supplements because the afore-mentioned menorraghia has made you anemic, is a love/hate kind of thing to say the least.
I can always be happy to get back a graded paper, or a review, but dread going into the bathroom.
And I’m just tired.
I have no idea why things keep stopping when I’m trying to make them happen.
I know that God works in His own way.
But what I wouldn’t give to have some divine intervention right about now. I really am tired of hearing, “not right now”, and “wait”. I feel like the world is falling apart all around me, and the years keep going past, and I’m in the exact same spot today that I was in last year, and the year before that, and the year before that.
I usually try to close on some form of positive note…but right now, I got nothing.
Don’t tell anybody this,
but I’m tired.
Man, this is gonna be one heck of an omelette.
