I don’t know how to ask that in a non-obsessive-and-less-ridiculously-intense way… but like, guys… when is this baby coming?!
The not knowing.
The having no control.
The wanting and wanting.
The questions, doubt and guilt.
All of it.
This is REALLY hard! <- said in a really high pitched, whining voice. I’m not sure why, that’s just my complaining voice right now. *probably whilst stomping feet with eye leakage*
For every step forward I have had on this entire journey, there seems to be an equal and opposite avalanche backwards. Avalanche. Backwards. That’s what I’m battling here!
And I want to know how long. When?!
I can go through hell and back, I can do that. I am doing that. It would just really help if I had an end date. Even if it was 15 years in the future, I just want an end-date (it had better not be 15 years in the future!!)… okay, so that was more figurative than literal. Not 15 years. I take it back. Not even 15 cycles. Stuff that!! 15 days… that I could work with. Are you listening powers-that-be?
I find the unlimitedness and endlessness of this decently suffocating.
And in true ego style… I just really think I’ve done my time. [<- also said by every TTC-er ever] I’ve got it. I control nothing. The powers-that-be control everything. I am barely a pawn in this epic interplay. Also, TTC is ridiculously hard. Miscarriage is literally the [3rd] worst (next to stillborns and little people deaths… o.m.f.g!). I totally have this incredible empathy, and pain, for every single grieving mother ever. Life sucks. Lack of control sucks. And any other life lesson thing I’m supposed to have picked up and “grown” with or from, over this journey.
Is that enough?!
Can the “learning” and “personal growth” thing end now?
And by ‘end now’ I mean, can I have a baby now?
And what about the things I didn’t want to learn?… that people are poos. No-one understands this enough except (mostly current) TTC-ers, and even then, some are still this weirdly optimistic, which is just weird. But mostly people are poos!
If I had an end date, the first thing I would say to myself would be relax (!).
Yep. I hate my end-date-knowing-self also.
Not in the “stress-doesn’t-help-anything” kind of relax.
The relax that says that ‘everything falls effortlessly into place just look at the whole entire planet’.
The relax that hindsight and perspective give. Of which, right now, I have neither.
The relax that holds you like a tiny grain of sand, on a endless beach, and even as that tiny grain of sand, you feel connected and supported and loved.
That kind of relax.
It’s just that I don’t have an end-date, and so, like, relax is still a dirty word… a swear word. A bad swear word. Like, worse than all the swear words I actually use.
So … garhhhh! Or some other undistinguishable exasperated sound expressing pain and frustration and such.