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.

Well, actually.

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.



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  1. Not that Adam Sandler movies are a good moral indicator, but I thought the movie “Click” where he fast forwards his life and then realizes how much he misses…might have something in it. This being said, I wish you could just fast forward the mourning, the sad parts of your life and still get to enjoy those moments of happiness with O and with yourself. (And, yeah on the new dresses!!)

  2. I actually like what Kate said in her comment about fast forwarding and missing things. Because if you just jump to the part where this is years behind you, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you are healed. To bring in yet another movie analogy here, I love the quote from Elizabethtown: “I want you to get into the deep beautiful melancholy of everything that’s happened.”

    It sucks. It royally fucking sucks. But you have to mourn before you can heal.


  3. Digesting all the things IF throws at you is so, so hard.

    Deciding to stop pursuing ART is one of the very hard ones.

    Do keep working on the assumption that you will make it through, because that’s what most people do eventually. I hope your eventually comes sooner than you think.

  4. I am sorry that you are in this place of suck and I do hope you get your feet really underneath you in a way that brings you peace.

    Time will bring perspective, it’s true, and I’ve got a post brewing about that. But, to echo what others have said, speeding up the process for the sake of trying to get over it already does have a price in terms of missing other things.

    Just know that I am whole heartedly supporting you even if I feel my mere words may not bring comfort.

  5. I wish I was there also. I just came back from a fantastic vacation and I get home and my heart feels empty again. It felt awesome to be able to enjoy a nice vacation with my girl and yet on our way home my heart ached because I knew there was nobody waiting for me at home, nobody that I could tell about our adventures. My heart is torn between the right now and the “what ifs” . I held Lyla until she fell asleep and I thought about the nights I cried with my empty arms and there she was and yet I am still crying. It just kills me to feel this away but I also cant deny my feelings. I hear that U2 song on my head all the time “you got to put yourself together, you got stuck in a moment and you cant get out of it”. I want to get “unstuck” . Thanks for opening up. HUGS

  6. (((Hugs))) I’m so sorry that you are in this place right now. I hope you are feeling better soon.

  7. Run til you get there, Seren.


  8. I know that I have squandered some precious moments of my son’s life because of not liking the now; wanting to fast forward, because of infertility. And I hate that. It is so unfair and hard to deal the hands we are dealt. It is hard to find the right balance between mourning the could have beens and enjoying the what you haves. I wish you peace and love to get through this. And hope that distance comes without a price.

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