On this little piece of the internet that I call mine, I talk about some pretty heavy, personal stuff. This post is no different. So, here it goes…
I like to blame myself for things that I have no control over. Considering that control over anything past one’s actions and words is illusory, a colossal self-deception, I’m doing a giant disservice to myself. And the thing I keep spinning my wheels on? Even more than PTSD?
Jason and I have been married for 11 years and 5 months, and we have no human children (I DO consider our furry children (the dogs) as family). For some reason unknown to us and the medical personnel we’ve consulted, I’ve miscarried every single pregnancy.
I look at it as some kind of personal failure even though, logically, I know it’s not my fault. I didn’t deliberately miscarry. So, why am I blaming myself? Because my EGO grabs onto control. I’ve meditated deeply on the subject of control and knowing there is no such thing, but I keep reaching back. Damn you, EGO!
Right now, we’re trying… again… with medicinal help from a medication called Clomid. Month one with Clomid was a bust. Now, we’re on month two… and I’m already prepping for the possibility that it won’t work. Seems pretty defeatist, right?
Clomid is by no means an easy drug to handle. It messes with the WHOLE body. If there’s a psychiatric side-effect for a medication, I’ll probably experience it. And, no, this isn’t a self-fulfilling prophecy.
I wish mood swings were some hippy, ‘shroom induced lingo for something that goes on at Bonnaroo or VooDoo Fest. Nope, these bitches are going from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other in lightning speed. Normally, my highs and lows have a slightly larger range than what is considered normal, but I deal. Right now, those peaks and valleys are like freaking Everest and the Marianas Trench.
However, heh heh heh, yep, there’s always a HOWEVER in these things, right… I can put space between feeling and reaction. Thank you hours with my therapist and meditation. Getting back to Fertility…
One of the worst things I do is compare myself to others. Think: women that can crank babies out leaving one to my FAVORITE texting epithet, WTF? Why in the hell are they cranking kids they can’t take care of, and Jason and I don’t get a shot?
Again, fairness being illusory as well.
This post is more of a confessional.
Bless me Internet because I’ve committed transgressions; so, I write it out for all the world to see forever and ever with the hope that I’ve influenced the wheel to spin favorably.
Yeah, reaching for control much?
In the end, we’ll still adopt even if we have biological children. We’ll get a shot in some shape or form, but it sure would be nice if there’s an easy fix for the biological route.
Like the Lotus blossom, maybe we’ll make our way from out of the mud to bloom above the surface. Life sure is odd.