I am not pregnant. I haven't been able to get pregnant for four and a half years. I have cried so many tears that the Pacific Ocean has nothing on me. I have prayed and pleaded with the Lord so many times, that sometimes the sincerity seems like vain repetition. I have gone through anger, grief, and loss. Infertility seems like a death sometimes. It represents the giving up of life-long dreams and replacing them with other dreams. It is a topic that I had a hard time opening up with and it sent me into a whirlwind of depression. I saw the world in black and blacker, except when I saw my husband or my Lincoln.
Then the world changed when we adopted Henry. A part of my heart healed instantly as I held him the first time. He was a perfect and beautiful piece of heaven.
As I look back on the trial of infertility, I wonder why it was I didn't talk to more people about it? Was it because I felt alone? partly. Was it because I had to keep my image of always being a happy person? mostly. Was it because it meant that my body was inferior? nope, but it felt like that. Was it because tears were only one thought away? yes.
WHY DON'T WE ASK FOR HELP WHEN WE DESPERATELY NEED IT?
I WISH I HAD ASKED FOR MORE OPINIONS ON MOTHER'S GUILT SHORTLY AFTER I HAD MY FIRST PERFECT BABY, AND FELT INCREDIBLY ALONE.
I WISH I HAD ASKED FOR MORE SUPPORT ON POTTY TRAINING.
My point is, I wished I had asked for more help during the Terrible Awful Very Bad Trying Times.
I love this Mom Blog, because it allows us the opportunity to ask for help, and get lots of opinions. I love that we can disagree on methods and share them in a safe-risk environment.
Here's To Continued asking for more help
Tuesdays in Tucson,
Brandi
Thanks, Brandi. Although I cannot imagine what it must be like to want to have a baby so badly and do everything in your power to make it happen and it still just doesn't, I can understand how therapeutic it is to talk about what's hard. I think people were surprised when I talked so openly about my miscarriage, but I feel like if we, as mothers, felt more comfortable talking about the things we really think and feel, we would love each other more. There would be less worrying about what size we are, or whether we wear the right brand of jeans, or take our kids to the right kind of school and feel more like we are all on the same team just trying to survive. The title of my personal blog is "We're not so different, you and me" and I truly believe that we have more in common than we think. And if we talked about it and asked for help when we needed it, there would be more than enough love to go around.
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