Sometimes I still cry, even on meds

Sometimes I still cry and cry and cry.  I’m on meds for that.  I’m having to take medicines to ensure that I don’t lose my mind and yet I still find times when this journey is so overwhelming that I can not function. It is then that I cry.

I cry because I got my period again, and that means no “happy accident”.

I cry because I think about what a kid of ours might have looked like or acted like or even smelled like.

I cry because my family tree ends with me.

I cry because all of the stories, all of the fun all of everything that is me ends with me.  There is no legacy.

I cry because I want to hold a beautiful baby, one that I held in my womb for 9 months, one that is part me and part him and all kinds of wonderful.

I cry because people don’t understand, and family can be so difficult in this time.

I cry because when you are infertile and don’t have a lot of money, there is nothing else that can be done. You are too poor to have medical help, yet make enough to raise a child. And we are too poor to adopt. Fantastic. 😦

I cry because it just isn’t fair.  It isn’t.

I cry because unworthy people, those that abuse and neglect, get to have kids and I don’t.

I cry, because this is the greatest disappointment in my life and in the life of my husband.  It is enough to bury me in grief. I’ll never be the same woman again. Ever.

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Then it hit him…

So the deep sadness has come back to my house.  This time its the dear hubby that is carrying it.  I am sad too, don’t get me wrong, but he also is carrying this and its starting to weigh him down. All the things are weighing him down.

I’m tired of the sadness. I’m tired of grieving and I’m just tired.  He is too.  All of the things.

Infertility F-ing sucks.

A Child Called “Idiot”, or Why I’m So Angry at God

The world isn’t fair.  I get it.  I live it.  I know it. I am the poster child of this.  So now that we have that out of the way, I’m quite angry at God.

Rather pissed to be honest. Here’s why:

Today I opened up the news online to see another story of child abuse and neglect.  This one was bad, but was also different.  A child, a four year old child, thought her name was “Idiot”.  Idiot.  They called the child idiot so many times she thought it was her name.  They also had beaten this child and starved her. It was really terrible.

And here I am. A good loving woman with a great marriage and a job and a house and, and, and, SO much love.

I am childless.  I am childless not by choice.

This woman was blessed with a precious gift, a life. This woman who allowed a man to call the child idiot so much that she thought it was her name.  This woman that beat and zip-tied her kid to furniture, and starved her.  This woman was gifted children (there were others in the home). God chose her over me.

God chose her.

Not me. Not my husband.  Not a good married couple with SO much love to give. Nope.  He chose abusive trash. Abusive monsters that caused harm to this child that will last for her life.

I am awash in anger.  How God who loved us so much as to sacrifice his only son so that we may be saved allow this to happen.  There aren’t words enough to describe how I feel.  There aren’t words.  There can never be words.

Clomid wasn’t the do all be all we hoped for.  Only when mixed with Arimidex did it even help.  Now that the Arimidex is no longer used (side effects) the numbers are dropping in the tests, and our best shot was a failure.   We stand here angry and sad and ready to fight and God closed doors and slammed windows and made it impossible for us. Yet he let this monster of a woman have a child who thought her name was idiot.

I don’t have enough faith to carry me through this. I don’t have enough courage to see me to the end. I don’t have the patience to endure this.

I don’t have the faith to believe that somehow this woman, this monster of a woman who called her child idiot for a name, who abused and starved her child is somehow more worthy than I am.  That somehow she gets this gift and I am denied it.

I think if God told me why, I might be okay.  But on this there is no answer.  On this there is no relief.

How do I reconcile the faith that has carried me through all of the other bad things with knowing that I am somehow not “chosen” or “worthy” to have a child?  How do I move though life with the knowledge that I wasn’t chosen and a monster like that was?

I’m sure I’ll figure it all out, eventually.  As for now, I’m starting to plan for that “child free” life and trying really hard not to let this whole thing kill me.

It’s gonna be a tough week.

I hate today, and tomorrow. Its “BACK TO SCHOOL” which included about a thousand back to school posts, “look at how big he/she has gotten”, first day of school photos, and so forth.

I’m sitting here looking at my cats and wondering if I should call a groomer. I’m fighting a headache that is actually a migraine but I can’t use the “M word” at work because the peanut gallery said I’m making it up and if it were “real” I’d not be at work.  (hello there are different kinds of migraines and they can be of different a severity between people and even between causes and so forth…  But I digress) I’m tired because the headache (aka migraine) was triggered by getting dehydrated cutting grass yesterday and I was up every few hours drinking water and then up again to pee several times in the night.  Ok, I’m whining now. Sorry about that.

Back to where I started. I hate first day of school posts.  I have friends on Facebook that span several counties and states.  And magically enough they all have different start dates.  They all remind me right now of what I can never be: A mom.

Oh I could adopt (If I had 50,000 and was a tad younger and lost a 100 lbs) or I could keep plugging away at infertility treatments that the hubby’s infertility urologist said were a waste of time and money, or I could get into foster care and possibly fail and ruin a kids life because I can’t handle the pressure the system puts on foster parents by not getting the kids what they need…..  There are options.  *rolls eyes*

Right now I’ll just whine a bit and wait for the week to simmer down. In the meantime I’ll get my self mentally ready for the new boss we are getting at work, whom ever that may be.