…have those moments when you fall head-over-heels in love with your husband, all over again? When the world stands still and the only thing you can focus on is him. His smell, his touch, his comfort…just him. One thought can make you giddy, one look warms you to your toes, one hug turns you to mush.
If you don’t ever experience these moments, I feel sorry for you, I really do. Then again, maybe some people don’t need to feel like we do–like we were absolutely made for each other. Some people get by on the formalities of marriage–income, security, a house, etc. That’s how they get by, missing out on the love aspect.
Anyhow, this weekend I was blasting Christmas music (don’t judge, people!) and Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas” came on. Big Daddy waltzed to the kitchen and snuggled me up and he just smelled so…him. Nothing else mattered right then. Not the fact I was in sweatpants, with my hair all messy and flour all over my shirt–nothing. The world stopped and for that minute, it was just us, barely moving, but holding on tight.
I fall in love with Big Daddy over minute things all the time. Prime example: Drama Queen and I went out to refill the bird feeder this weekend. Big bag of birdseed + 3-year-old…you know what that means. It’s an unwritten rule you have to throw some! So that’s what we did. We tossed it every which way and when Big Daddy joined us, Drama Queen began giving lessons. Not only did we have to toss it, we had to toss it while jumping high in the air, doing circles. Just watching my husband and daughter together made me swoon. I can’t really describe it, but again–it was just us. Big Daddy, Drama Queen, and me. Sharing our own moment, one that DQ may not remember, but that has been seared in my memory.
Some days I’m feeling better about our situation, other days (like today) I’m not. CD 43, still taking Provera, still no period. Today JW is in labor–she was due a day before me. Her baby is about 4 weeks early…I really hope everything turns out ok. It just reminds me of what we lost and have not achieved yet. It frustrates me to no end that my body is such a wasteland of infertility. I just don’t understand it.
I don’t want to be around pregnant women, I don’t want to talk to pregnant women, and I don’t want to read anything about them. Not because we lost our baby, but because we are still struggling to conceive another. It’s hard for others to understand, I know. They think we should be grateful for Hannah, as if we’re not. Their advice is to quit trying so hard–little do they know my body is broken and it’s not a matter of trying “too hard”. Every time I hear about another pregnancy, it’s a pierce to my gut. As if God is saying, “Ha! There’s another one for you, take that!”
Last week at work, a nurse I work with announced she was pregnant. Then a friend I’ve known since junior high announced she was having a baby–after trying “just one month”! I feel like saying, “Shut the eff up!” Her little girl is a year younger than Drama Queen.
I feel like I’m finishing last in a competition that has no end. I’m running this marathon in a vicious cycle while I see everyone else finish with their prize, and I’m still at the starting line waiting for the shot to go off.
Since we’ve starting trying for our second baby, over two years ago, there have been so many women I know get pregnant, give birth, and start trying for another…and succeed with pregnancy. Yet here we are, still waiting, still wondering why others get this chance and we don’t. Wondering why the 25-year-old heroin addict has three children (albeit all three are not in her custody, but still…), wondering why the 14-year-old gave birth, wondering why all this happens.
Wondering why we’re left on the outside.