Today I just want to throw my hands up in the hair and say, "I quit! I'm done. I'm not doing this anymore!" Unfortunately, if I allow myself to quit and be done, I won't become a mother. I am so over this.
The Hubby is acting like an a-hole. I'm sure he is just reacting to me and my less-than-sunshine-and-puppies attitude, but I just don't think he gets it. He doesn't get that I've worked 7 days straight, just got home from an out-of-town working weekend, and I am always emotional when I'm tired. Last night, as soon as I felt the undeniable pang of a menstrual cramp my heart tightened like a fist was around it and I couldn't catch my breath. And I'm just so angry. A friend and I and our respective spouses were all ready to start trying in February. Month two, mission accomplished for her. And I am ecstastic for them! Two weeks ago, my close friend at work and her husband started trying and BAM! Pregnant their first month. We were very excited that we might only be two weeks apart and could share in the joys and pains of first time pregnancy together. Nope. Once again I've been left disappointed, so angry at the sight of blood it makes my eyes well up. I don't want to chart days and pee on sticks and practically drag my husband to bed with no regard to his utter exhaustion.
The first four of the seven stages of grief are: shock & denial, pain & guilt, anger & bargaining, "depression" & reflection. The first month I was definitely in denial. I had convinced myself that I was pregnant. As the months have passed I've told everyone that I wasn't stressed about it. That I was trusting in God's timing. That I was okay with letting it "be what it will be." But in my heart of hearts I have sailed through all of those emotions listed above. Right now I am angry and fighting the "depression" bug. My mind says: It's not working. What is wrong with me? Is God punishing me? What have I done wrong? What if I'll never be called "Mama"? Will he love me regardless? I don't want to unburden myself on my husband because 1) He doesn't understand. 2) I don't want him to feel guilty. 3) I don't want him to know how weak I am.
I'm done with trying. I don't know if I have enough emotional energy left in me. I want to be hopeful. I want to fight back and say that I went through it all with dignity and strength, that I kept my grace and composure. But really I just want to throw something, to break something, to rail against God, to surrender to the darkness that I feel pulling at my ankles, to bathe in my self-pity. It's so unbecoming, isn't it?
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