I'm writing this to express my feelings and to get them out of my shell before I explode. Plus, I couldn't really find a good quote anywhere to express how I'm feeling. Please do not assume I am asking for advice, because I'm not. Please do not assume I need advice, because I really don't. I just need a way to voice my thoughts and for some strange reason, knowing that you know my struggle, dear reader, is a comfort to me. It helps me to feel less alone.
Each time my cycle returns, I look at my kids and try to see all of the bad, so I will agree with God that now is not the time to have more children. I figure if I can convince myself that having another baby is a really, really, really bad idea, then I won't have that empty ache in my heart and disappointment in my hope. But then my kids go and do stupid things like laugh and serve one another, and I'm left alone with the thought that yes, I am simply damaged and broken, and I will only know exactly how much years and years from now. There isn't much left to do but wait, because like clockwork, the cycle will go on.
I'm angry, too, because I did it right this time. My body is not full of birth control chemicals or devices. I have kept it away from those things for more than 3 years. I had my thyroid and hormones checked --all normal. I had my blood work done --take more Vitamin D and Omegas (so, I am). I wonder if it's Brandon... we talk about it... and it's too early to know, too late to ask for intervention.
I don't want to see fertility specialists. Who would take me? I'm at the age when my fertility is supposed to decrease dramatically and I'm already blessed with many children. Who am I to say that we deserve more? Haven't we fulfilled some kind of already unacceptable social quota? Do I somehow think I'm better than the thousands of women begging for at least one? Who do I think I am?
In my cycle-tracking journal this morning I wrote:
"I'm not as devastated as I thought I'd be. I guess I'm just tired of hoping."
It may seem like I lack faith, but faith has never been an issue with me. Even as I write this, I have faith that all will be as it should be, and that either I'll be comforted with my six children, or I'll be blessed with a seventh. (And maybe an eighth...) Either way, I do know I'll be fine. I'll be happy and I'll be good.
It's just hard in these moments of disappointment, with another month seemingly wasted and gone...
I remember one time, just over five years ago, when I was so disappointed that I wasn't pregnant (again) and it had been 6 months since we had started trying. One of my best friends had gotten pregnant and I found out in a public setting. Instead of being elated for her (as I should have been, as I genuinely was), I was so hurt that she didn't tell my privately, especially since she knew our struggle. I was an emotional wreck and unfairly took it out on her. A week later we realized why I was so emotional: I was, in fact, pregnant.
I point this story out to show myself (mostly) that I have been at this rock bottom before. I've embarrassed myself by being so hurt and instead of taking it out on my dear friend (who, luckily, forgave me immediately and loves me, still), I seem to be taking it out on Heavenly Father:
"You told us to have more. When I asked if we were done, you said we were not. I'm trying to have faith, here, but I'm losing it! It's been more than a year --why? Why won't you tell me? What am I doing wrong?" And Heavenly Father forgives me immediately and loves me, still.
I'm not pregnant this time, though. But maybe I will be sooner than my disappointment realizes, if my track record of putting my foot in my mouth is any kind of persistent pattern (which, really, it kind of is...). If that's all it takes (my own humiliation), then I'll take it! I'll take it gladly.