I Can’t Live My Life In Limbo Forever

I got to thinking today, I can not live my life in limbo like this, not knowing if we can ever have a child, and not knowing if I will lose my mind if what we can afford doesn’t work.

I’m feeling done.  The medicine they gave my husband to help his issue messes with him a little, and I know what Clomid will do if/when we get there.  I think I’m done. I really don’t think I can continue down this path much longer and remain sane. The what if’s are overwhelming, and frankly, I don’t think that I can deal with it much longer.

The emotional grasp is like dying several times a day.  Its like the world ends every day over and over.  Its holding on until I can not any longer, and still holding on.

Its trying to hide the intense pain I’m in over this, the pain I can not heal from until we reach the end, so that I can appear to function normally.

Limbo is hell, actually.  I’m not waiting on judgment, I’m in a special hell I wouldn’t wish on anyone.  A place forsaken by God and man.


Looking Upon a Childless Life

When I came home the other day from work, I looked at my house. I looked at it and it is clearly the home of childless adults.  Its pretty clean, the cats have full run of the place, and our world is designed around us.  I told my husband we had a freedom that was envied by our friends with families. We have a life and we live it as we please.

I think about the simplicity of a child free life. And I think about the emptiness. It IS empty. Its vastly empty, for me anyway.  Maybe that’s just my hormones screaming.   This is a very confusing time.  My heart and soul cry out for a baby, but logically I think about how that’s not going to happen without a miracle, and logically I think about the way our lives will change.

I’m trying to accept the fact that we may have a childless life all while wanting to hold my own baby more than  I have wanted anything in the world.

Its a confusing time.

A childless life might be easier, cheaper and less complicated, but I can not imagine it being as fulfilling or as wonderful as a life full of kids.

I feel as if I have no direction or purpose anymore.  If I can not produce offspring, and I’m not working some great and valiant job, what good am I to this world?

Don says my purpose is to be his wife.  And he is right, but I feel like there is something more I’m supposed to do.  Beats me as to what that something is, but its been eating at me since I left the fire service.  In a childless life I will have the time to so those things I feel driven to do.  The tough part is figuring out exactly what that “thing” is.

And YES I have prayed about it.  Nonstop for a very long time. Right now I can not see past the grief of infertility, and the promise of freedom they tell me I will find in a child free life.

I’m not on the fence, but I’m trying to accept the great probability that I’ll never hold a baby of my own.  My anger at God right now is difficult to contain.  If I only knew for 100% (rather than 99%) sure we’d never have kids, I could start healing and planning that child free life. If I only knew for sure that God has some grand plan behind the last door, I’d be less anxious and more trusting.

But my faith is worn and I’m not sure its even there.  They tell me that in these difficult times when you only see one set of footprints its because God carried you. I only see my own and Don’s in the sand of life, and I so wanted to see a smaller set (or three) along with.

My entire world has stopped spinning, and my dreams and hopes are on hold. My child less house is clean, my child less life uncomplicated, my world is empty and meaningless.

I’ll always be a believer. I’ll always be saved. But I think I’m done begging God for help. I’m done trying to pray for my hearts desire. I just want to know “why”. Why did God decide that crackheads and whores get to have babies and I don’t? Why do people who are bad to their children get to have a family and those of us that would give anything we had to have a family are left with our hearts broken? I wouldn’t wish this grief on anyone, but I just wish God would tell me why.  He doesn’t owe me anything, but I still want an answer.

Why do I have to look at my life and into my future and see a child less life?

We will see if that 1% (less than that really, but I rounded up) chance produces a baby.  A healthy happy child.  I do not believe it will. I am past hope at this point and I’m trying to embrace the childless life I believe is waiting for us.

I’m trying.

Those Times It Overwhelms Me

The other night was one of those time that everything overwhelmed me. We had speculated that a friend was pregnant. The Facebook announcement was posted that night and my husband showed it to me.

I fought it.  I tried really hard. But the waves of anger, grief, jealousy, and sorrow washed over me like a tsunami. Poor Don.  He held me while I cried and sobbed and howled like a kicked dog.  The snot ran down my nose, the tears soaked my face, the pillow and his beard.

It wasn’t pretty.

My eyes are a little swollen the next morning, but my soul felt better.  I got it out. It had been building and building, and I emptied that vessel.  I know full well it will fill up again, but right now, I’m OK.

I was overwhelmed already when that announcement hit.  For reasons I won’t go into here, that particular announcement was especially upsetting.  Not that I’m not happy for my friend, I am, but from this side of the infertility road it hurts a lot to see yet another woman I know become a mother.

Its hard, God help me its hard.  The emotions tied to this are raw and complicated.

Its Not That I’m Not Happy For You, Its That I’m Sad For Me

When you post pics of your ultrasound or babies, or you post a pregnancy announcement, or you talk about your kids, or you invite me to their parties…

Its not that I’m not happy for you.  I am.  But I’m also so sad for me.

You see, every single time I see the joy you are experiencing I know this is something I will likely never get to be a part of.  I want so much to go to your parties, and baby showers, and gush over photos, etc… I’m afraid that if I do, I will break down.

I will cry all the tears that are just waiting under the surface to come up. I will sob in front of you like I do behind the safe walls of my home in the arms of my husband.  I will howl my painful pleas to God, who has told me “no”.  I’m afraid you will see that I am not in fact strong, but that I’m a blubbering, anxious mess that will erupt into tears of agony or rage at any moment.

When I see your kids I see what I dreamed of.  I see the life that I have been told I can not have. When I see your family, I see what I have been denied by God, who I’m told knows best.

It breaks my heart that I can not have what you have. Its not being jealous so much as it is the pain of seeing you live your dream whilst I can not.

I AM happy for you.  But I’m heartbroken for myself and my husband who will never hear the cries of our own child when he/she is born.  I am devastated that I will never have a first day of school picture, or a first Christmas, or anything.

I’m happy for you and sad for me. Its a cruel duality that permeates my life.

We Got A Kitten

We got a special kitten a couple weeks ago.  She was 5 weeks old, just barely weened, and frankly the most adorable ball of fuzz I’ve ever seen.  She is also a polydactyl (meaning she has extra toes  Google “Hemingway Cat” for examples).

Then, I saw my husband hold her like a baby. The tenderness he shows with this little kitten is amazing, and frankly I almost lost it.

Watching him hold this little baby kitty, and sing to her, and hold her close and cuddle was about all I could stand. For me to do this is one thing, to watch this man who wants a child so much be so tender and loving, Its more than I can possibly stand.

I’m delighted we have this kitty, and we wanted a polydactyl.  Its just somehow the timing is terrible.  I keep telling myself I’d be a horrid mother, so maybe then I won’t feel so bad when we don’t have kids.

I know deep down inside that I’d be a great mom. Except I’d be anxious that bad things would happen and I’d drive myself nuts worrying about things.

Still, its fun watching the kitten play and interact with the other kitties.

And for a brief moment, I saw the father I can not make my husband be. It broke my soul in a way I didn’t think could be broken.