Excuse me, has someone seen my mojo?July 19, 2011 at 8:00 am | Posted in Moving On., The Community | 14 Comments
Mel has a great post today in defense of blogs.
I’m going to be honest: my attention to blogs, including this one, has been half-hearted lately.
I started writing here because I thought it would be neat to write about my life. I posted maybe three or four times in the first few months.
And then we were diagnosed with infertility and did IVF. And I got pregnant with what turned out to be a chemical pregnancy. And then it took us another 2 some odd years to bring home a baby.
And I found support and love and coping through writing about our struggle to bring home my O.
A real COMMUNITY, people I loved and supported and who in turn supported me.
It’s been nearly 6 years since I opened my blog.
And in that time, so many have had babies and siblings, and stopped writing because they’ve either moved on, or lost time, or came to the same place I’m in right now and drifted away.
Because right now? I’m uncertain where to go with this space.
I don’t have the emotional reserves to comment on every blog of someone who is trying for children right now, to reach out and forge new connections with some really amazing bloggers, to keep up that sense of community I found so valuable here.
I can’t get past my own selfishness, maybe.
But I’m so far beyond the details of my cycles, the obsessing over symptoms, the questioning of my doctors, the worry and fear, but the excitement and hope of FINALLY having a shot of getting pregnant… that I’m not a really good source of support.
And when someone does get pregnant, well, it’s something that I won’t have again, so there’s emotion there, too. Right now it makes me question our decision to stop. What if we stopped one cycle too soon? Should we have used those leftover embryos? There’s still time, should we revisit the discussion AGAIN?
So I’ve been reading less, using the Facebook method of scanning posts, clicking onto them sometimes only to clear out my Google reader.
And I’ve done less with this space, too. I used to write daily. Now? I often come here in the hopes of writing a new post, but seeing the blank post screen is daunting, and I have to close it out because I have NO idea what I should write about.
I could write about O, about how awesome and hard he is to parent right now, how I struggle with patience because he’s insistent on doing everything his way all by himself but how proud I am that he’s working so hard on being independent. I could write about how much I cherish our snuggle time in front of the TV, or at night before he drifts off to sleep. How proud of him I am with the real progress he’s making on the potty training front, seemingly all on his own.
But I can’t keep up with him in real life sometimes. Every gorgeous moment with him gets overwritten by the next tantrum, which gets overwritten by the unprompted I love you, Mommy.
Parenting a three year old has more ups and downs than navigating the emotions of cycling when you’re infertile.
I could write about running, how my marathon training is going – chronicle my progress towards my October race.
But OMFG the mileage itself is a commitment – it takes so much of my time. I feel the pressure to get my mileage in at all times, and as much as I love running (I really REALLY love it, even with the time commitment and low-grade stress of getting the miles in), I have a hard time really writing about it because I spend so much time thinking about it and doing it.
I could write about how unhappy I am with accounting and how much I long to find a career that makes me really, truly happy. But I’m terrified of changing careers, because what happens if I spend the time and start over at square one, do something else, and then in a few years I hate that, too?
And so I end up writing about the same stuff. I repeat the same theme over and over again. I’m sad I can’t have another baby, I’m moving on, I’m healing. I’m happy I have O, we’re lucky, but goddamn it, IF is unfair and it sucks that our family size was taken out of our hands.
And then I feel like a broken record. Stuck in the same old same old.
Really, who wants to HEAR about that shit? Again?
Truthfully, I don’t. There are times when I re-read my posts and I think “Geez, Serenity, just move the fuck ON already.”
I wish I could.
I wish I could make this blog a project, where I could write well-written, educated posts about whatever in depth topic I found interesting at the time.
I think what’s going on with my blog is that it EXACTLY mirrors where I am in my life right now. Sort of stuck. No time or energy to invest in a new project. Scared to move onto some place else, another blog where I am someone new (and yes, I’ve actually done the work to create a new blog. Haven’t done much with it yet. Too daunting), without a lot of the baggage infertility gave me.
I feel like, right now, I’m stuck on a rock in the middle of a river. Where all around me Time rushes past, churning, eddying, bubbling.
And I am SO aware of the time passing, watching it rush by me, see all the changes it’s made to the lives of people I love; watch in envy as someone goes by me, headed down the branch of the river I thought I might take.
I hate feeling stuck. I crave movement, a new goal, change.
By the same token, I’m terrified of movement, a new goal, change.
What if I jump into the river and find myself unable to swim?
Or even worse: what if I jump in and get swept along, and in 20 or 30 or 70 years I’m consumed with regret for the things I DIDN’T do?
Not really sure where to go from or here. Or how to end this post. I want to wrap it up into a neat bow and tell you all that this is my call to arms that I need to change up my life, really recapture it and take charge.
I just don’t know that it works that way. I think I’m going to wait here, stuck on this rock, until I’m either pushed in by circumstance or I feel confident in my ability to swim down the next branch of the river into the unknown.