Is not the easiest thing to do when it's not your checkbook you are reconciling.
I was asked how I keep going despite facing the everyday reality that I may never have the one thing I've wanted most. The simple answer would be to say I'm a proud southern lady, but that would grossly underestimate the support system I have. My husband, parents and friends have been shoring me up. And, because I'm not dwelling and moping in my bedroom any longer, my support system keeps growing which only makes it easier to smile.
The other major component, is I don't allow myself to think like that. It's not about 'it may never happen', it's about 'how we are going to make it happen.' I don't know how it's going to happen, and I still have no clue when, but I know it will be amazing and completely worthwhile when it does.
It doesn't mean I don't have pangs. I do, and I do often. Every newsbeat about an abused child, every random cramp and pain in my abdomen, every trip to the pharmacy for medications to control them are reminders that my husband and I have quite the battle ahead. But I channel them into making me better, to keep working on myself so that when the time comes, I'll be better than I would have been when it didn't happen.
I don't ignore the sadness. I still let myself cry in the shower, but then I get myself together and do the things that are going to make me a better mother. Crying in my bed all day isn't one of those things. I think I've learned the difference between feeling sad, and living sad. To recognize the feeling, process it, remove those things from your life that did not allow for it, and not beat yourself up for feeling it is reasonable. On the other hand, to dwell on it, purposely avoid doing things that make you happy, beat yourself up for things that are not in your control, dwelling on only what has been lost, and living in despair would not be within reason.
Nobody in my life demands that I be happy about being infertile. The best people in my life only demand that I do my best with what I've been given. They allow me to occasionally mourn, but remind me that I still have a life to live. They love me and my bum ovaries. They give me back my confidence that infertility took away.
I can tell you it was quite the process getting here. It's worth it, though. Remind yourself infertility is simply a disease. You did nothing to deserve it. You do deserve friends who will stick by your side. You deserve to still have fun and enjoy being a young adult. Don't take people telling you how so-and-so have it so much worse. Somebody's always going to have it worse, but that doesn't mean your pain should be minimized. There is no rule that only that saddest person in the world is allowed to cry.
Take in the lessons you are learning from this. I took so much for granted. Now, even though I've only been married for four years, I feel like BJ and I have already had a lifetime together and I can't imagine that there is anything we can't do together. I know I would still be blissfully clueless to what an amazing husband I managed to land without having faced infertility experience. You appreciate the little things, because they are worth so much more.
Fortunately for them, very few people will understand what you are going through. The truly good people in your life will still be by your side, including you.
I was asked how I keep going despite facing the everyday reality that I may never have the one thing I've wanted most. The simple answer would be to say I'm a proud southern lady, but that would grossly underestimate the support system I have. My husband, parents and friends have been shoring me up. And, because I'm not dwelling and moping in my bedroom any longer, my support system keeps growing which only makes it easier to smile.
The other major component, is I don't allow myself to think like that. It's not about 'it may never happen', it's about 'how we are going to make it happen.' I don't know how it's going to happen, and I still have no clue when, but I know it will be amazing and completely worthwhile when it does.
It doesn't mean I don't have pangs. I do, and I do often. Every newsbeat about an abused child, every random cramp and pain in my abdomen, every trip to the pharmacy for medications to control them are reminders that my husband and I have quite the battle ahead. But I channel them into making me better, to keep working on myself so that when the time comes, I'll be better than I would have been when it didn't happen.
I don't ignore the sadness. I still let myself cry in the shower, but then I get myself together and do the things that are going to make me a better mother. Crying in my bed all day isn't one of those things. I think I've learned the difference between feeling sad, and living sad. To recognize the feeling, process it, remove those things from your life that did not allow for it, and not beat yourself up for feeling it is reasonable. On the other hand, to dwell on it, purposely avoid doing things that make you happy, beat yourself up for things that are not in your control, dwelling on only what has been lost, and living in despair would not be within reason.
Nobody in my life demands that I be happy about being infertile. The best people in my life only demand that I do my best with what I've been given. They allow me to occasionally mourn, but remind me that I still have a life to live. They love me and my bum ovaries. They give me back my confidence that infertility took away.
I can tell you it was quite the process getting here. It's worth it, though. Remind yourself infertility is simply a disease. You did nothing to deserve it. You do deserve friends who will stick by your side. You deserve to still have fun and enjoy being a young adult. Don't take people telling you how so-and-so have it so much worse. Somebody's always going to have it worse, but that doesn't mean your pain should be minimized. There is no rule that only that saddest person in the world is allowed to cry.
Take in the lessons you are learning from this. I took so much for granted. Now, even though I've only been married for four years, I feel like BJ and I have already had a lifetime together and I can't imagine that there is anything we can't do together. I know I would still be blissfully clueless to what an amazing husband I managed to land without having faced infertility experience. You appreciate the little things, because they are worth so much more.
Fortunately for them, very few people will understand what you are going through. The truly good people in your life will still be by your side, including you.
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