Needing Distance.June 27, 2011 at 12:25 pm | Posted in Crazy Talk (aka: Therapy), Heartbreak, Infertility | 8 Comments
My blog friend Summer wrote what I believe is the best description of what life for me is, right now.
Seriously. Go read it.
She says: You know the part in the movie Forrest Gump after his mother dies and after he proposes to Jenny but she says no and he just starts running and keeps running until he has put time and distance between himself and all that has happened?
I guess I feel a bit like that. That I just need to keep moving and keep going and not dwell too much and not look at things too deeply until I’ve put enough time and distance between me and that last failed cycle.
Yes, yes, YES.
This is EXACTLY the way I feel right now. I have good days and bad days. Sometimes a good and bad day in the very same HOUR, actually.
Like this weekend where I was thrilled that I was able to wear six 6 dresses, but then had to look away when I walked past Motherhood Maternity in the mall.
Because, until I walked by, I had forgotten how much I loved shopping there when I was pregnant with O.
And when I went back to the department store, and tried on that size 6 dress in the hopes that I’d feel as good as I had.
It felt empty, somehow.
But. I don’t WANT to go back to our doctor either. I don’t WANT to try, I don’t want to get back onto the rollercoaster of hope and fear and fail and worry and uncertainty.
(Just thinking about sitting in his office makes me want to puke.)
I want 2011 to be over already.
I want our failed cycle to be years ago.
I want to be HEAL.
I’m tired of the little daggers that cut me when I see a pregnant woman, or when I hear about another person getting a BFP, or when I see baby clothes at a department store, or when I walk by a maternity store.
I’m tired of how much infertility hurts.
I want to heal, I want to get better, I want to live the life I have in the here and now, and be thankful for my family.
I’m tired of being shackled to What IF?
And I need distance in the worst way.
And this marathon I’m training for? That’s the focus. I’m hoping that when the training spits me out in early November, it’ll be enough time for me to really have accepted that we’re done. That O will be our only child, that he’s more than enough for us.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow, that we have to accept something we never would have considered if it weren’t for our infertility.
Because yes, it was our choice to stop treatments.
But, by the same token, we wouldn’t have stopped at one child if we really had a choice.
Thing is. I’m going on the assumption that it will all work out okay in the end. Because I need to live this life I’ve been given; not the one I thought I’d have.
I just wish I was there NOW, that’s all.