I can't wait for anything anymore. It's like it's taking all of my waiting ability, all of my strength, and all of my will power to hold it together while I wait for a baby (which, obviously, I'm not even doing very well) that waiting for anything else at all drives me crazy.
If my husband is five minutes late picking me up (because he has to drive me around now because SOMEONE STOLE MY BIKE BECAUSE I DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH TO DEAL WITH) I start fidgeting violently. Spasming, really. Like a crazy person.
And I'm an introvert. I used to be great at filling time. As long as I had a phone or a book or, often, even just my own imagination I used to be perfectly content for hours on end. I would draw pictures on the roof of my mouth with my tongue. I would think about what I would use as a weapon and what I would use as fortification if the zombie apocalypse happened exactly where I was and then I would evaluate my chances of survival based on that plan (tell you what, I would have been SCREWED in Zanzibar. There are no doors or windows to shut; everything is so open. And you can't even flee to the sea. It's shallow for miles.)
Heck, I used to people watch. For hours. That's baffling to me now. People watching these days is like dancing through a minefield. No matter where I look I'll get a spike of pain. I see a baby. A stroller. A pregnant woman. An older man walking his elderly father. A young couple clearly in love and unburdened by what I'm dealing with. I can't look anywhere. I used to try to guess what a person's life was like based on their shoes and if I did that now every single narration would be bitter.
I'm so boring now, you guys. I'm so one-dimensional. I'm only pain, only anger, only bitterness. And that sucks because everything in my life is good except for this one thing. I love my classes, I love my schedule, I love my husband, I love living where I live. But none of those things take up anywhere near the amount of brain space that PCOS takes up for me. I feel like it's become my entire life, my entire identity. I am PCOS now. Not a woman, not a wife, not a law student, not a sister or friend. Just that one thing that everyone hates and doesn't want to talk about anymore because there's nothing else to say.
True confession: I started this post on impatience because I'm so impatient to get even one response on any of these entries. I just want to know that SOMEONE has even read it. I feel like I'm screaming into a void.
Monday, September 29, 2014
Of Snark and Verbal Attacks
Being infertile makes me a really negative and judgmental person. Scrolling through a Facebook newsfeed now causes a parade of mockery to march out of my mouth. And not just aimed at the myriad of baby pictures and pregnancy announcements that constantly clog it up (although they are certainly not immune. My friends have some ugly babies. And they put their babies in stupid frilly headbands. And they get REALLY huge when they are pregnant and try to pretend they're ok with it by taking a lot of pictures but I can tell it actually bothers them by the subdued panic in their eyes).
I don't really like that change in me. At first it was refreshing to act like I was above it all and able to deal with my issues via snark, but it's starting to feel a lot more like I just want to cut other people down to my level. And I do. But I don't WANT to want that.
Especially because even though I dish it out, I really can't take it. I've become ridiculously sensitive. Any time someone says something to me I don't like I immediately want to cut them out of my life. Which, you know, is super great for making and keeping friends right now.
So I'm going to vent about a few of the situations here in the hopes that letting it out will help me move on. Step into my office of bitterness and have a seat. Here we go:
Situation #1:
One of my best friends was recently lamenting the fact that she's still unmarried and I was tying to comfort her, and then out of nowhere she just said, "I mean, I know you're struggling with the baby thing or whatever, but at least you get to live with your best friend and be married. I don't even have that."
It felt like a punch in the gut. This is someone I've cried to about my struggle. Like, in public. I was so upset and vulnerable with her that I started sobbing into my cheese platter (this was before I went dairy-free. I miss those days) in the middle of a nice restaurant. So it's not like she didn't know the depth of what I was going through. I felt so dismissed. And why is it necessary to compare pain levels? Why? If we WERE though, I would say that she could meet someone tomorrow and end up marrying them and have babies and never have to worry about this moment of pain again. I, on the other hand, may never have babies and even if I do PCOS will be a lifelong struggle. The pain will stay with me for the rest of my life. My body will ALWAYS be a death machine. But I didn't say that to her.
Situation #2:
I asked my sister-in-law, who has just started trying for a baby, at what point she would tell me if she did get pregnant. That was the entire question, and I was just asking because I know she's more private than I am, and I was wondering if they'd be one of those couples that didn't tell anyone for a really long time. But out of nowhere she exploded at me about how I was only asking to know how HER pregnancy would affect ME and how that was really hurtful to her because she felt like she wasn't allowed to be happy if she got pregnant and everything would just be about how sad I was and that sucked for her because she just wanted to be happy for one second and not have everything be about me.
Again, it was like a punch in the gut. It reeeeally felt like it was something she'd been feeling bitter about for a while. And I felt horrible that she felt that way. Especially because it's not true. Yeah, I'm a monster, but I wouldn't just not be happy for her if she got pregnant. I would be sad for me, certainly, but I'm able to have more than one emotion at one time. But even if I weren't, even if I truly would only feel negatively if she got pregnant because I can't get past my own self-centered struggle, yelling at me is unlikely to make that better. I'm sorry I make her feel that way. I am. I'm sorry that I feel the way that I feel, too. But I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it. I feel like I fell in a hole and I can't get out and she just started yelling at me about how selfish I am for being in the hole when she'd really like me to just be on the normal ground with her and LISTEN. I WOULD LOVE TO BE ON THE NORMAL GROUND WITH YOU. But instead I'm just scraping at the sides of this stupid hole trying to get a foothold and you're yelling at me.
I made myself work it out with her even though I didn't want to because (and only because) she's family. But I'm still hurt. At the end of the conversation she said something like, "By the way, I really do want to hear about your pain, too. I totally want to be there for you."
Yeah. I don't believe you. Honestly, as of right now, she's never hearing about my pain again.
Situation #3:
I mentioned in my last post that I found out that I had PCOS when I went into the ob-gyn's office to talk about what I thought was a pregnancy. That was pretty bad, but it was actually even worse than that. My husband's sister AND my husband's best friend's wife, both of whom we are very, very close to, discovered that they were pregnant right around that same time. We would all three have been due within a couple weeks of each other. During that time, my sister-in-law (this is a different one than the one in the last scenario) and I texted constantly. Sharing symptoms, daydreaming about the future, checking in. Constantly. As soon as I got the diagnosis that stopped immediately. I've reached out to her several times and she doesn't respond at all. Then every couple weeks she'll send me a text or message that says she misses me, but when I immediately respond by saying I miss her too and would REALLY like to catch up and know more about her life and want to schedule a phone call or skype date with her, she goes back to silence. She just doesn't respond at all. And I know she read it because she JUST texted me. I'm sure she's well-meaning and just doesn't know how to talk to me about impending motherhood when I'm in the situation I'm in, but the silence makes me feel more like I'm not good enough to talk to because I'm not pregnant like she is. And that's not fair, because if it were up to me I WOULD be. And yeah, it hurts when I hear that she got to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time and I have to think about how that's where I would be if this nightmare weren't real and I had just had a normal pregnancy. But that doesn't mean I don't want to hear about it. That doesn't mean I want to be alone in this.
Seriously, you guys. I feel SO alone in this.
I don't really like that change in me. At first it was refreshing to act like I was above it all and able to deal with my issues via snark, but it's starting to feel a lot more like I just want to cut other people down to my level. And I do. But I don't WANT to want that.
Especially because even though I dish it out, I really can't take it. I've become ridiculously sensitive. Any time someone says something to me I don't like I immediately want to cut them out of my life. Which, you know, is super great for making and keeping friends right now.
So I'm going to vent about a few of the situations here in the hopes that letting it out will help me move on. Step into my office of bitterness and have a seat. Here we go:
Situation #1:
One of my best friends was recently lamenting the fact that she's still unmarried and I was tying to comfort her, and then out of nowhere she just said, "I mean, I know you're struggling with the baby thing or whatever, but at least you get to live with your best friend and be married. I don't even have that."
It felt like a punch in the gut. This is someone I've cried to about my struggle. Like, in public. I was so upset and vulnerable with her that I started sobbing into my cheese platter (this was before I went dairy-free. I miss those days) in the middle of a nice restaurant. So it's not like she didn't know the depth of what I was going through. I felt so dismissed. And why is it necessary to compare pain levels? Why? If we WERE though, I would say that she could meet someone tomorrow and end up marrying them and have babies and never have to worry about this moment of pain again. I, on the other hand, may never have babies and even if I do PCOS will be a lifelong struggle. The pain will stay with me for the rest of my life. My body will ALWAYS be a death machine. But I didn't say that to her.
Situation #2:
I asked my sister-in-law, who has just started trying for a baby, at what point she would tell me if she did get pregnant. That was the entire question, and I was just asking because I know she's more private than I am, and I was wondering if they'd be one of those couples that didn't tell anyone for a really long time. But out of nowhere she exploded at me about how I was only asking to know how HER pregnancy would affect ME and how that was really hurtful to her because she felt like she wasn't allowed to be happy if she got pregnant and everything would just be about how sad I was and that sucked for her because she just wanted to be happy for one second and not have everything be about me.
Again, it was like a punch in the gut. It reeeeally felt like it was something she'd been feeling bitter about for a while. And I felt horrible that she felt that way. Especially because it's not true. Yeah, I'm a monster, but I wouldn't just not be happy for her if she got pregnant. I would be sad for me, certainly, but I'm able to have more than one emotion at one time. But even if I weren't, even if I truly would only feel negatively if she got pregnant because I can't get past my own self-centered struggle, yelling at me is unlikely to make that better. I'm sorry I make her feel that way. I am. I'm sorry that I feel the way that I feel, too. But I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it. I feel like I fell in a hole and I can't get out and she just started yelling at me about how selfish I am for being in the hole when she'd really like me to just be on the normal ground with her and LISTEN. I WOULD LOVE TO BE ON THE NORMAL GROUND WITH YOU. But instead I'm just scraping at the sides of this stupid hole trying to get a foothold and you're yelling at me.
I made myself work it out with her even though I didn't want to because (and only because) she's family. But I'm still hurt. At the end of the conversation she said something like, "By the way, I really do want to hear about your pain, too. I totally want to be there for you."
Yeah. I don't believe you. Honestly, as of right now, she's never hearing about my pain again.
Situation #3:
I mentioned in my last post that I found out that I had PCOS when I went into the ob-gyn's office to talk about what I thought was a pregnancy. That was pretty bad, but it was actually even worse than that. My husband's sister AND my husband's best friend's wife, both of whom we are very, very close to, discovered that they were pregnant right around that same time. We would all three have been due within a couple weeks of each other. During that time, my sister-in-law (this is a different one than the one in the last scenario) and I texted constantly. Sharing symptoms, daydreaming about the future, checking in. Constantly. As soon as I got the diagnosis that stopped immediately. I've reached out to her several times and she doesn't respond at all. Then every couple weeks she'll send me a text or message that says she misses me, but when I immediately respond by saying I miss her too and would REALLY like to catch up and know more about her life and want to schedule a phone call or skype date with her, she goes back to silence. She just doesn't respond at all. And I know she read it because she JUST texted me. I'm sure she's well-meaning and just doesn't know how to talk to me about impending motherhood when I'm in the situation I'm in, but the silence makes me feel more like I'm not good enough to talk to because I'm not pregnant like she is. And that's not fair, because if it were up to me I WOULD be. And yeah, it hurts when I hear that she got to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time and I have to think about how that's where I would be if this nightmare weren't real and I had just had a normal pregnancy. But that doesn't mean I don't want to hear about it. That doesn't mean I want to be alone in this.
Seriously, you guys. I feel SO alone in this.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Hey, Internet.
I'm going to introduce myself to you and it's going to be in a way that may not make sense:
I'm 24, I'm in law school and I want a baby. Like, now.
To save time, I have anticipated your response to such an outlandish combination of facts, and I will respond to it so that you don't have to post it in the comments.
"A baby!? But why!? You're so busy now! Focus on your schoolwork! You've got so much time!"
Yeah, I've got lots of time to not be pregnant, unfortunately. I have PCOS, meaning it may be difficult for me to EVER get pregnant, despite the fact that being a mother is the only thing I have consistently wanted my entire life. I've only wanted to be a lawyer for, like, half a decade. Tops.
"Hm. Maybe this is God and/or the Universe telling you that now's just not the right time for you."
Oh, really? Not the right time for me? Listen. There are teens getting unintentionally pregnant all over the place. Drunks. Drug addicts. People who do not even want a child and react to the news with horror. I know I'm in law school, but is it REALLY a worse time for my husband and I to have a child than it is for Hypothetical Holly who had sex with her dealer between doing some meth and attending a Justin Bieber concert?
"You sound really judgey."
YOU sound really judgey.
"Just relax and have fun! It will happen when it happens. Focus on all the good things in your life!"
Unfortunately, I find it very difficult to pause my feelings. I'm in mourning. I thought my life would be a certain way and I thought trying to have a child would be easy since I'm young and healthy and willing to do an astronomical amount of research on anything even remotely connected to conception. But after several months of trying, when I started having pregnancy symptoms and didn't get my period for two months and was absolutely sure that I was carrying a life inside of me (so sure that I started bonding with it, came up with nicknames for it, and felt like I loved it), I got the news that those symptoms were indications of what's wrong with me and not a pregnancy at all. I had been bonding with and loving a figment of my imagination. Now I cry every day and every period feels like a failure, and that's just the way my life is.
But, no, you're right. I should probably just relax.
"Well, hang in there. I fully believe that you will be a mother one day."
I don't know if you know this, but you believing it will happen doesn't actually have any effect whatsoever on whether it does. So. Thanks, I guess. But I don't feel better unless you have an actual way of fixing my stupid cyst-y uterus (in which case GIMME).
Basically, I started this blog as an outlet because I'm beginning to realize that almost no one understands what I'm going through and even the people in my life who love me and want to support me are starting to get a little sick of hearing about how I'm still struggling with the fact that I'm still infertile due to the fact that I still have PCOS. Yes, even though that was my answer to "how are you" last week, it's my answer this week, too. And I don't want to be that girl. I don't want people to get sick of me.
If the internet gets sick of me, it's not really a big deal.
So... welcome to my life. Nice to meet you.
I'm 24, I'm in law school and I want a baby. Like, now.
To save time, I have anticipated your response to such an outlandish combination of facts, and I will respond to it so that you don't have to post it in the comments.
"A baby!? But why!? You're so busy now! Focus on your schoolwork! You've got so much time!"
Yeah, I've got lots of time to not be pregnant, unfortunately. I have PCOS, meaning it may be difficult for me to EVER get pregnant, despite the fact that being a mother is the only thing I have consistently wanted my entire life. I've only wanted to be a lawyer for, like, half a decade. Tops.
"Hm. Maybe this is God and/or the Universe telling you that now's just not the right time for you."
Oh, really? Not the right time for me? Listen. There are teens getting unintentionally pregnant all over the place. Drunks. Drug addicts. People who do not even want a child and react to the news with horror. I know I'm in law school, but is it REALLY a worse time for my husband and I to have a child than it is for Hypothetical Holly who had sex with her dealer between doing some meth and attending a Justin Bieber concert?
"You sound really judgey."
YOU sound really judgey.
"Just relax and have fun! It will happen when it happens. Focus on all the good things in your life!"
Unfortunately, I find it very difficult to pause my feelings. I'm in mourning. I thought my life would be a certain way and I thought trying to have a child would be easy since I'm young and healthy and willing to do an astronomical amount of research on anything even remotely connected to conception. But after several months of trying, when I started having pregnancy symptoms and didn't get my period for two months and was absolutely sure that I was carrying a life inside of me (so sure that I started bonding with it, came up with nicknames for it, and felt like I loved it), I got the news that those symptoms were indications of what's wrong with me and not a pregnancy at all. I had been bonding with and loving a figment of my imagination. Now I cry every day and every period feels like a failure, and that's just the way my life is.
But, no, you're right. I should probably just relax.
"Well, hang in there. I fully believe that you will be a mother one day."
I don't know if you know this, but you believing it will happen doesn't actually have any effect whatsoever on whether it does. So. Thanks, I guess. But I don't feel better unless you have an actual way of fixing my stupid cyst-y uterus (in which case GIMME).
Basically, I started this blog as an outlet because I'm beginning to realize that almost no one understands what I'm going through and even the people in my life who love me and want to support me are starting to get a little sick of hearing about how I'm still struggling with the fact that I'm still infertile due to the fact that I still have PCOS. Yes, even though that was my answer to "how are you" last week, it's my answer this week, too. And I don't want to be that girl. I don't want people to get sick of me.
If the internet gets sick of me, it's not really a big deal.
So... welcome to my life. Nice to meet you.
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