But it shines so bright where it should appear. The tiny pink line that would change everything. And somewhere in my screwed up, broken down mind I think maybe the tests are all wrong maybe no line means a positive! Maybe I’ve been pregnant for months already and I’ll be one of those women on tv who all of a sudden go to the bathroom and have a baby having no clue they were pregnant
It’s hard when the good days get fewer and fewer, I use most of my energy pretending to be ok, trying to find a balance between being gentle with myself and allowing my feelings to be what they are even though they are too often jealous, bitter, sad and angry. Words I never thought I would befriend. My head feels heavy on my pillow in the mornings and getting dressed is a slow and daunting task. Dark gray clouds weighing on my shoulders, curling around me like they circle mountains. Waiting is my life now. Knowing that the only thing that will part the clouds is a pink line on a test strip. Knowing that I don’t know when it’s going to happen, if it’s going to happen, why it hasn’t happened, what I should/shouldn’t be doing to make it happen. Constant questions, guilt for being so distant and for not being grateful enough for what I do have. I feel like a bad sister/friend/daughter/wife in so many ways. I thought many times of not writing what my experience is really like, because it would be easier for everyone else if they didn't know, but that’s not why I started writing this blog.
Almost half of women in one study said infertility was the worst experience they had ever had. A U.K. of over a thousand workers sought to determine which life events were hardest to deal with. The top four most difficult life events were, in this order, miscarriage, death of a loved one, serious illness, and infertility.
I read studies to feel like I belong, to reassure myself that I’m not crazy. It’s such a strange relief to know that your sadness fits in somewhere. I just want to surface lighter, with stillness in my mind and peace in my heart.