As my dear friend Moonbeam points out, “If I don’t root for the home team, who else is gonna do it?” This weekend was a really good opportunity for me to practice this, with regard to myself and my own emotional needs. It was the annual folk festival, and we always spend pretty much the whole weekend there, listening to amazing music and visiting with everyone we’ve ever known. It’s often a rough weekend for me, even though it’s fun and I enjoy it. Now that I’m no longer in denial about my infertility, I understand that part of the reason it’s been a rough weekend for me is that it’s the time of year I see old friends and acquaintances who I never otherwise see, and every year, there are new babies and new bellies. And of course the whole place is just crawling with kids, and crunchy granola mamas with big bellies and nursing babies in slings and double chariots and little girls with pipe cleaner and twig wreaths in their hair and wands made out of glitter and twigs. So it’s really not the kindest place to spend a weekend if you’re feeling, as I was on Friday, like someone ripped a giant band-aid off my soul.
But you know what I figured out, as I was settling in for the first evening of bands on Friday night, staring longingly and enviously at every tow-headed child in the park, and everyone I ever knew from high school and university carrying their newest family member, and every stranger’s 8 month pregnant belly? I figured out that I can look at something else. I do not have to look at them. And when I find myself looking at them, I can deliberately look away and find something else to look at. (By Saturday, I had refined this to actually looking at hot men, although that can kind of backfire cause then I get into thinking about their sperm, but it works for a while.)
I don’t know why it took me so long to figure this out. But it feels good. It feels like progress. Even though I felt completely spiritually and emotionally raw on Friday and Saturday morning, by the afternoon, I was actually having fun. And once I realized that I was having fun, I understood that I was able to do it because I had let my feelings come without pushing them away at all, and then I had taken action to protect myself and not wallow in my sadness. I pretty much refused to go near the children’s stage, and the one time I found myself in that corner of the park, talking to a very dear friend, I quickly excused myself from the situation on the grounds that it was just not a good place for me to be at that time. I cheered for the home team, no apologies, no guilt.
It’s good that I learned to do this, and I hope I remember to continue to do this, cause Thursday night and Friday morning were just shitty days. During flamenco on Thursday, one of the women’s husbands showed up near the end of class with their 2 girls. The little one, who is about 3, walked through the door, and I felt like someone had kicked me in the heart. She just looks exactly like her mother, who dances with me, and who I really like, even though I don’t know her at all. And just seeing a little girl who looks so much like her mom – it just overwhelmed me, how much I want that. It actually physically hurt to see her, and made me almost burst into tears right there. (Instead, I threw back my shoulders, and danced for myself, defying everything that’s making it hard for me to have my own little girl who looks just like me.) But it was hard, a really hard moment.
Friday morning was no better. I had a scan at 8, the first scan of the day, but of course I still had to wait for half an hour in the fucking shithole of a waiting room. The place was weirdly full of middle aged women with terrible haircuts and ugly handbags. I don’t know why they were there, and they probably didn’t know why I was crying on and off. Well, I suppose I was only weepy until the entertainment arrived in the form of a couple who I’m still not sure, after several days’ reflection, whether they were a couple or not. He was a classic nerd, with a very dated goatee, hideous sneakers and black sport socks paired with a button down shirt and cargo shorts. He kept going on and on about his karaoke collection, saying at one point that his collection “eclipsed” some other guy’s. He laughed like Beavis, or maybe Butthead, I forget which one. He talked too loud for a waiting room. She, on the other hand, seemed nervous and distant from him, like they were on a first date and she didn’t like him very much. She kept picking her lip and bobbing her crossed leg, and glancing at him out of the corner of her eye like she was kind of embarassed to be there with him. She didn’t talk much and just basically said “uh-hunh” to everything he was saying. At one point he mentioned that he was going to perform Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” and Mr. Big’s “To Be With You” that night at karaoke. She just said, “uh-hunh” and kept picking her lip.
I, on the other hand, was furiously jotting details in my daytimer, and thinking to myself, having long since stopped weeping, “Sometimes the idiots really do make things better in this life.” As annoying as they were, they made the last 5 minutes of my wait a whole lot easier to bear.
I had a scan this morning and have another one on Wednesday, likely followed up by a trigger and then our fourth IUI on Thursday. I have my first accupuncture appointment tomorrow night, too, which I’m very excited about. And then I guess we’ll just have to endure the wait and see how it goes. We’re on the last vial of this donor and I’m waiting to see what happens this cycle to see whether we will order more or switch donors or what. If it’s another negative, it will be a hard decision – I really liked this donor. But I will find it hard to justify spending another few thousand dollars on his spunk if i’m not pregnant in a couple weeks.
I am really sorry for not posting more lately, but the support group thing is taking up a lot of mental space and time, and there’s only so much IF stuff I can do in a day. I’m always thinking about how to balance it all out better, but until I figure it all out, you’ll have to survive on my rare mega posts as seems to be my habit lately. And I promise to update on the support group stuff soon, too – I’m having so many good ideas, and things are coming together quite well, but time is also flying by and I want to have a meeting in September, so I need to stay on top of my list of things to accomplish before then.
Thank you all, lovely internets, for your sweet comments and your support and kindness. As I was crying and feeling sorry for myself in the waiting room last week, I did remember at one point that although I felt really alone right then, I am not alone. And I felt your presence with me, your sweet words and your thoughts and your prayers, your encouragement and your hope. It was the first time I’d ever really felt that way at a time when I really needed it and I wasn’t anywhere near my computer. So your powers are legendary, dear ones – they extend far beyond this machine and into my heart, so you’re with me wherever I go. Thank you ever so much for that – for cheering for my home team. I hope you all know that I cheer for each of yours fervently and regularly, too.
