It's been a little more than a year since my surgery. My period still comes and I'm still not pregnant. The list below sums up my life right now.
1. Fake smiles: I went to a baby shower filled with pregnant women and smiled my way through answers about not wanting children.
2. Fake strength: I made an appointment to go see a new doctor then cancelled because I just couldn't handle it.
3. Broken heart: I can barely hold conversations with family I once held dear. I fear they are either judging me or pity me.
Update:
So yeah... I wrote that depressing little note on day one of my new cycle. If you are in this little infertility predicament, you know that the first day is the worst day. However, I was honest about the fake strength. I try so hard to be strong, but I am truly scared.
One year ago, when I started writing down my ridiculous emotions, I hadn't seen many stories of black couples struggling to have a child. I have since found some wonderful resources, including a site called Broken Brown Egg. The author is so caring and finds the right words to say. BUT the hope I had during March of last year is GONE. The fibroids obviously were not keeping me from getting pregnant. I just don't know what is.
Let's be honest, doctors use each of us as guinea pigs. That's nothing against them. I mean...it's the only way to figure out what's going on. With that said, I just don't know if I can deal with the guesses, the misdiagnosis and the loss of funds. I want a baby with every fiber of my being, but I can't dedicate my body and life to this.
I've already changed so much. I cringe when I have to be around my friends with children. I cringe when I choose to lie about or reveal my infertility to people who love to ask, "when are you going to have children?"
My mother told me she's still very willing to spend her last dime to help me when I decide to give "trying" another try. I told her I didn't need her money. I reminded her that this is a subject we can no longer speak to each other about.
My mother raised me to be tough. My father taught me to smile when all else fails, but it's getting harder and harder to fake it. I really wish I could blame God, but he has given me just about everything I asked for and need last March (that includes a full-time job). The only wish that hasn't been granted, is a child. I don't know. I don't know. I just don't know.
1. Fake smiles: I went to a baby shower filled with pregnant women and smiled my way through answers about not wanting children.
2. Fake strength: I made an appointment to go see a new doctor then cancelled because I just couldn't handle it.
3. Broken heart: I can barely hold conversations with family I once held dear. I fear they are either judging me or pity me.
Update:
So yeah... I wrote that depressing little note on day one of my new cycle. If you are in this little infertility predicament, you know that the first day is the worst day. However, I was honest about the fake strength. I try so hard to be strong, but I am truly scared.
One year ago, when I started writing down my ridiculous emotions, I hadn't seen many stories of black couples struggling to have a child. I have since found some wonderful resources, including a site called Broken Brown Egg. The author is so caring and finds the right words to say. BUT the hope I had during March of last year is GONE. The fibroids obviously were not keeping me from getting pregnant. I just don't know what is.
Let's be honest, doctors use each of us as guinea pigs. That's nothing against them. I mean...it's the only way to figure out what's going on. With that said, I just don't know if I can deal with the guesses, the misdiagnosis and the loss of funds. I want a baby with every fiber of my being, but I can't dedicate my body and life to this.
I've already changed so much. I cringe when I have to be around my friends with children. I cringe when I choose to lie about or reveal my infertility to people who love to ask, "when are you going to have children?"
My mother told me she's still very willing to spend her last dime to help me when I decide to give "trying" another try. I told her I didn't need her money. I reminded her that this is a subject we can no longer speak to each other about.
My mother raised me to be tough. My father taught me to smile when all else fails, but it's getting harder and harder to fake it. I really wish I could blame God, but he has given me just about everything I asked for and need last March (that includes a full-time job). The only wish that hasn't been granted, is a child. I don't know. I don't know. I just don't know.
