Actual message I sent to a friend. She asked why I had changed my RSVP to her baby shower. And it’s the truth. And it feels really good to be able to tell her the truth. Because I can’t stop crying.
She knows it is baby related.
It is always baby related.
But this latest bout of tears has caught me by surprise.
Surprise in that… I look back and realise I can’t remember not crying. It has been over a week now. That is a lot of tears. I’m not sure why this month hurts so much. Or why right now hurts so much. And it does hurt. So. Much.!
I told a lady at work; at my new job. It answered her question about why the diet change. Because we can’t get pregnant (again). I didn’t tell her the ‘again’ part. But it seems amiss to leave it out here.
It felt like a tonne of bricks had been lifted from my shoulders! This is such a major part of my world. An all-consuming, leaking-into-everything, eye-leakage-inducing major part.
The Advice Factory sprouted this good ol’ one: “as soon as you stop thinking about it, it’ll happen” … so going back to full time work was supposed to
force / help me to stop thinking about it. My mind is supposed to be occupied by other mundane things. Non-baby things. And it is. AND it is also occupied with baby stuff.
It’s really not distracting me enough (at all?).
As soon as I’m driving home.
Or if I randomly catch a glimpse of my belly during work. Or if a child crawls into my lap (I’m a teacher to little-little people. So this happens a lot). Or if I squat down weirdly to pick something up. I don’t know why I have a weird squat.
There is no shortage of radio and internet adverts to baby shows, baby programs, pregnancy and motherhood specials, etc, etc.
My book of faces feed is full of baby reveals, baby shower notices (the above one included), ultrasound pictures, growing belly pictures, birthing pictures and newborn pictures.
So many things.
I have hidden my two tracking apps (hidden because one of them still has the detail of Baby, and my time with Baby and I can’t bring myself to delete it yet). Even though I have hidden the apps, in my head, I catch myself counting days and planning baby-trying-sex.
My husband doesn’t believe that I’m not tracking. But I can’t handle it right now.
I was sure that my period wasn’t coming. Not for another 8 months. I was sure.
I was wrong. And that hurts. This complete distrust of my body. And shame for interpreting things one way or the other… and it was always interpreted one way. The baby way.
So with not-tracking I can consciously ignore or down play any and all ‘symptoms’. And that’s what I plan to do! Cramping. Shut up. Pain in my ovary. Nope. Feeling unwell. Have some wine.
It’s like I almost want to Murphy’s-Law this… drink wine and have anti-inflammatories to tempt fate… because my months and months of not, has evidently not helped this situation.
The lady at work said to wait until day 10. You know, you get the start of your period, that’s day one… I know. Period: day one. I know. Of all the things that I know, this one is etched in. I know.! Bam. That’s how it happens. I told her that there is no ‘Bam’ in this. The ‘Bam’ has gone. I’m not sure when. Or why. But it was a long time ago. And there is no ‘Bam’ left.
But day 10 is tomorrow.
Do I think it will work? No.
Am I going to have sex on day 10 anyway? Totally.
So my self-prescribed prescription is of sleeping tablets and trashy TV with a smidgen of school preparation and maybe a dash of dog walking.
That’s all I’ve got right now.
Day by day. Sometimes hour by hour.
And trusting that the tears will slow down. And that this isn’t forever… or even just holding onto that idea as a remote possibility because ‘trust’ is too much of an overpriced definitive right now. One that I am not always afforded.