Sunday, May 23, 2010

This isn't the first time I've started to post this

I've written - and deleted - a million posts in the last couple of weeks. Before the drama-filled hell that was this past week, I was trying to write about how I was DONE.
I don't want to be infertile. I want to get off this crazy merry-go-round and quit watching other people live the life I want to have. I'm tired of hiding tears. I'm even tired of being the Fun Aunt. No, I'm not really tired of kids and I do still love that they love me... But I'm sooooooooooo tired of "just" being the aunt. The one who everyone 5 and under is instantly drawn to, the one who kids just invite themselves to play with, the one who is expected by most adults to take over playing with the kids, so they can go have their grown-up time. Not. The one those same kids go to when they're hurt, sick, or scared. Ouch.
Granted, this is not a life anyone would want... I've had more people than I care to add up tell me how "lucky" we are that we can just go and do as we please. I would gladly switch places with them, and let them see the flip side: the side they don't see - the "don't throw up. Don't cry. Don't cry or throw up," when you hear yet another pregnancy announcement. The curling up in tears on the couch because your house is TOO quiet. The inability to wear mascara because you never know when you might smear it with your tears.
It's hard NOT to feel like the entire universe is ganging up on me. Friday evening, I thought "whew. I'm done, I can get away from pregnancy talk, and have a break for most of the weekend. Then the universe slaps me in the face and our waitress keeps coming over and shoving her big belly over our table, and patting me on the back. I could only give hubby an incredulous, oh-my-gosh-you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me look. And he understood. So then I get sick during the meal, probably because that was just the last straw.
Is it just me, or is every other person knocked up right now? I just want to go hide under a rock for the next 9 or 10 months!!! I think if I see one more belly, I'm gonna lose it. Another reason I've deleted all those posts - more often than not, in the past couple of weeks, I've felt like I should quit my job and check myself in as a patient. I sound like a crazed lunatic. Hubby half jokingly agreed I need therapy. Only I wasn't really joking that much. I swore I'd never be "that crazy nut-job infertile lady," but I'm seeing how easily that happens. I've never had even a taste of alcohol, but there are days I just want to drink. I've yet to act on that, but wow would it be easy. Chocolate and a dr pepper just aren't doing it anymore.
I'm a hot mess. Or at least that's the real me... On the outside, I'm still the same smiling, laughing, giving, fun aunt I've always been... On the inside, I feel as if I'm barely managing some semblance of sanity. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the last strand of the cord to break. So how do I get back to sanity?

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