The tears came today. I knew I had been holding them at bay. There were only a few silent tears weeks ago the morning I took the HPT and saw the very stark white negative. But there was a 2 year old to feed, and dress. Life went on. And I still had to go have my damn bloodwork taken to confirm what I already knew.
And then I was numb. Just numb.
And then I was angry.
But mostly I have just been numb.
I have felt the emotion brewing though. I have been annoyed with people easily. I have just wanted to take hot showers and be on my computer dulling the pain by mindless internet searching. I have immersed my brain in trying to (unsuccessfully) dream new dreams.
And then I decided to sort, organize, and purge the 8 large plastic bins of clothes and baby supplies. Agonizing. Why, I chose now to do that, I don't know- maybe it helped me grieve? Maybe it helped me feel the anger? I don't know. I just been on a mission to get rid of ALL of it.
And then an email arrived just now in my inbox from one of those websites that sends regular developmentally appropriate topics. There have been several times they have been right on- like the week my itty bitty newborn born broke out in zits that could rival a 13 year old boy- the subject of the email was "Baby Acne- no need to worry". And a few months ago it was on 2 year olds and lying, which I had just been talking to my nanny about. And then today. Today the subject was "imaginary friends"
And the tears began to fall.
My daughter just turned 3 last week. And we have had an abundance of imaginary friends in our house. I delight in it on many levels. But it also has stirred up deep emotions.
The imaginary friends came into our world the week after we pulled my daughter out of preschool. It is a long story and one for a later time, but it wasn't going well for her. And so she brought her preschool friends with her into our home in her imagination. And I have felt guilt for pulling her from the school and classroom she enjoyed. Guilt that her social life is now richly in her imagination instead of at school.
And two days ago she asked me if there was a baby in my tummy. Gah! Where do they come up with this stuff? And I said "No, no honey there won't be any more babies my tummy." And my mama guilt revs up- that she will never have a sibling in the home, that it will be just me, her poppa, and her imaginary friends.
And damn it- I wanted more for her than that. I don't want her to grow up an only child in the house.
I don't want this.
It is so cliche, but so true- This definitely hurts less. It still hurts deep. It still can be brutal. But it doesn't even come close to touching the dark, dark days prior to holding my daughter in our arms. Nothing can touch that darkness. I know I will be okay.
But it surprises me still how deeply held the beliefs are around success and failure. I can't help but feel like I have failed. My body has failed. It is not what I want.
My husband has reacted strongly when I use the word "done", "never again", etc. I don't think he wants to rule out another IVF. We froze his sperm for that reason, so we could leave the door open. But, oh, I can't- I just can't- on so many levels. The finances, the physcial and mental toll. I just can't imagine coming to a place where I have the strength to do it all over again. I was supposed to have my follow up consult with my reprod med doctor today but ended up locking my keys, phone, and wallet in the car and have been stuck at home all day and had to cancel my appointment. Maybe the universe is telling me something.
Or maybe this is just going to hard for a while.