Today, I am struggling. I am struggling with the changes I am experiencing within myself. I don’t recognize myself anymore, and sometimes my thoughts feel foreign in my own mind. I am constantly asking myself, “When will I get better?” I have to find something to occupy my time and my mind every second of the day; otherwise, I start thinking about things, let my emotions get the best of me, and begin to hyperventilate. Three months ago, I would’ve come home from work and started working on lesson plans, cleaning, or running errands. Nowadays I find myself lying in bed trying to watch TV (which is something I despised before) only to catch that episode of Friends where Phoebe Buffay becomes a surrogate for her brother and his wife. Of course out of the 10 seasons (236 episodes) of Friends, this is the episode they’re showing. I am faced with constant reminders that my dreams may never become a reality.
Never did I think at 25 I’d be experiencing such heartache. I never thought I’d be the one who experienced these types of struggles because the old me worked for what I wanted and the results were usually in my favor. The old me loved to be alone. I loved “me time.” Today I cannot stand to be alone. I feel sad in my home that I worked so hard to buy with my husband. When we bought the house I knew this would be the house that we would raise our first child in, and then happily move on to bigger and better things. Now, it’s a constant reminder that my nest is empty, and I don’t know for how long. Who knows how long we’ll live in this house now because of financial reasons. The money I planned to save for our dream home now has to go to IVF rounds. I’m in a constant battle with my mind. I want to live in the moment, but I cannot help but worry about my future.
I am distancing myself from the people I love. It’s hard for me to be around people who have everything in life happening in their favor. As terrible as it sounds, it is hard for me to be happy for friends who are pregnant and experiencing the joys of parenthood when I am hurting so badly inside. I can’t help but feel I am a terrible person. Honestly I am genuinely happy for them because they are just as deserving as Augie and I are to be parents. While I want to share in their joy, I can’t help but mourn for us. I try to show my excitement but I constantly wonder if I appear fake because deep down that isn’t my intention. I don’t know how to act in front of people who are experiencing such joy, and I hate myself for it. I often wonder if people will understand my feelings, or at least try to see where I am coming from. No one understands this pain unless you are experiencing it. I hope that my friends can see past my emotions and know I love them unconditionally and I will be there for them as much as I possibly can. Although instead, I am leaning on people who have their own burdens they should be dealing with. Vulnerability is an abnormal feeling and I hate that I constantly cry to the same people. I don’t want them thinking I am weak. My fear is eventually they will become tired of my constant “Debbie downer” attitude and leave me, but I can’t blame them if they do. However, these feelings do not keep me from trying to remain positive. Each morning I wake up and think, “This will be a good day! You’re going to do better.” I want so badly to wake up every morning and believe the words I say to myself. Some days, these words are true, but most days I am defeated.
Augie and I are still on the pursuit of parenthood. We have the appropriate appointments lined up and are more than ready to continue on to the next step. Since my last post Augie and I have visited Dr. Webster, an infertility specialist in Baton Rouge. He is on board with our aggressive approach and has been wonderful so far. We have gotten multiple blood work panels done and thankfully the results haven’t showed anything we should be concerned about. So now, we wait. We wait for Augie’s appointment with the urologist and remain hopeful for good news.