by The Wannabe Mom
I was cleaning out my inbox today and I found an old picture my girlfriend took and e-mailed me last spring.
She titled it “We Are Margaritas!!!” because we probably drank 20 between the four of us that night. It was the first warm night in a long time and one led to two which led to three…mmmmm.
You know those nights.
Anyways, as I opened the file and looked at that picture of my hubby and myself, I started to cry. Right there in my office — tears streaming down my face.
That seems like ages ago. We looked happy. We looked carefree. We looked alive.
That picture was before we were really trying to get pregnant. It was back when I thought we could just have some sex and make a baby. It was before I was nervous, on-edge, crabby, hormonal and mentally drained.
All. The. Time.
Trying to get pregnant for months and months drains you. It drains your husband. It stomps on that fabulous-fun girl and happy-go-lucky guy you once were. It takes away all the pleasure in making love to your mate and replaces it with counting and timing and drugs and worry and despair and sadness and loss.
Every month when you start your period there’s bleeding, and that bleeding brings emotions that are indescribable. And it’s a loss. Every month. A loss.
Since that picture was taken, I’ve transformed into a machine. A bad machine. I only go through the motions. I’m so focused on the prize (a positive pregnancy test) that I’ve forgotten the reason for all my hard work.
I love my husband. I love myself. I want to produce a little piece of both of us for the world to enjoy. But, is it worth turning myself into a bad machine to get there? And, once I get there will I revert back to that fabulous-fun girl in the picture?
Or what if IT NEVER HAPPENS?
What then?
I’ve stopped counting days and taking my temperature every morning. I’m protesting online message boards and reading any book about fertility. I’m trying to have sex with my husband whenever the urge strikes, and not just because it’s “Cycle Day 10, 12, 13, 14 and 16.”
I’m trying to relax.
Although hearing anyone suggest I “relax and not try too hard” makes me want to spit nails — no offense. I’m trying to work-out again and hoping to bring back those rosy cheeks I had in that picture and get rid of these new rosy “cheeks” I’ve had growing on my backside since then.
It’s tough, though. I don’t know that any of those changes can bring the fun girl back. Infertility is something that changes you — I hope not a forever-kind-of-change.
But, a change nonetheless.
It sucks the fun right out of you and your mate. It robs you of your fabulous-fun life. Now, I look at recent pictures of us, and instead of “We Are Margaritas!!!” I see “We are Infertile!!!” Ugh, that’s not a picture anyone wants to see.
So, help me out. In honor of warm spring nights on outdoor patios and yet another cycle — bust — raise your tequila-filled, salt-rimmed glasses and join me in a toast. Here’s to all of us–The Fabulous-Fun-Girls.
May this next cycle (or this tequila) bring us back to life.
Cheers.
No related posts.
I’m with you! I look back at this year as “the Year We Tried to Get Pregnant (and didn’t).” Maybe just some fun with friends is what I need to change it to “the Summer I had so much fun with my friends!”
We’ve been “infertile” for 2 years now. I’m trying to appreciate the dear sweet little 3 year old boy that my husband and I have been blessed with and am trying and failing to come to terms with the thought that he might be our only child. I cry every month, too and my husband just gets really quiet. And I get INFURIATED when I hear about women getting “accidentally” pregnant. Why is that fair, when some of us try so hard?
I appreciate your honesty and vulnerability here. I know the feelings you are describing all too well…and I am cheering you on. I think the silence and taboo of infertility and miscarriages is something to be broken. Thank you for being a voice, giving perspective, and shedding some light on what it’s like to be desperate for a baby. Unfortunately I think so many moms take their fertility and precious gifts of children for granted.
Your story took me back 13 years ago when I was trying to get pregnant. I got married young and after two years, we decided it was time for us to have a baby. When you are only in your early 20s, you think it will happen just because you want it to. 2 years, 2 surgeries, $10,000 later – it did happen. But I was not the same. All of the medication, the tests, the waiting, the watching, it does change you. I can say though that I appreciate my daughter so much more after everything I went through. She is a miracle and I appreciate her every day. I have hope for you too and wish you well.
Once again, I love reading this blog…
The moment I brought my son home from the hospital I knew my life had changed, and not entirely in the happy, “now life is complete” kind of way. For one thing, I knew that sleep would never be the same because a mom’s brain can’t turn off the feeling that her children will need something from her and she’d better be able to wake at a moment’s notice to provide it. Or, later on, because my kids will be teenagers and I won’t be able to fall asleep until they’re safely home, and even then I’ll probably lay awake and worry for a while.
My priest, quoting someone else, once said (paraphrasing) that motherhood is deciding to have your heart go walking around in the world for the rest of your life. That pretty much sums it up. My fears have never been as vivid as they are now that I’m a mom. So much more can be taken from me; I’m a much more cautious person now because so much more is at stake.
So, I guess what I’m saying is that the carefree, fun girl may actually be gone for good. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing…
I’m betting you will find a “new” normal, a new way of being fun. It will be enriched and informed by your all of your new experiences. It sounds like you’re on the right track by being conscientious about things and refusing to become a “machine.”
Raising a prayer and a glass in your honor…
“It sucks the fun right out of you and your mate. It robs you of your fabulous-fun life.”
…so does a screaming baby with a loaded diaper
wannabe mom-
Ive been reading your blogs and they bring tears to my eyes.To be honest, Ive avoided chamabanamom info because it hurt. Ive dodged Chambanafacebook fan pages etc. Your posts give me a voice ive never had before. In fact I just showed by husband your posts and it opened a new line of communication. I am everything you talk about- Im the girl who has done all the drugs- all the emotions- all the planning- all the painful pregnancy tests. I am the girl who has gained weight and zits off fertility drugs and used by dear friends left over injection viles. All efforts- nothing has worked. I cringe when my dear friends reference “Mothers Morning Out” and I almost vomited when their bigggest concern seemed to be where the new “MMO” location would be. For what it is worth- your audience is out there. Im out there- and your words have made me feel “not alone” on a website that has for so so long… has brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for not making me feel not alone. Thank you for opening up. Thank you for being a friend. But please remember when you are crying on the floor not knowing where to turn… I am here. I am crying too… and I admire you …. so so much.