I'm Finally Awake . . . for a few minutes

Those trying to call me have been getting voice mail a lot lately because I feel as if I'm either working or sleeping. This is part of the reason I haven't written an extended post in a while. I'm just plain tired. However, I was reminded by a friend at school today that it's important to keep detailing this emotional journey--the highs and lows--of fertility. A couple of observations have become thought-provoking issues for me at present.

The first follows:

A couple of weeks ago, I found out that two friends are pregnant. I recently met these sweet women and am still getting to know them, but I found their sensitivity endearing as they sought to find out where I was at in the process/how my very early pregnancy was progressing, seemingly to have an understanding for whether or not they should tell me their good news. When they did tell me, I felt excited for them, and for some reason that is difficult to pinpoint, I felt, as I often do, relieved for (while at the same time envious of) women who do not struggle through fertility medications/treatment/endless time like we did. However, I certainly didn't feel as I would have expected, like I was part of "the club" of pregnant women everywhere. Instead, I felt like an outsider, like I was hearing their news outside the walls of the security that comes with knowing a child is growing healthy and stable inside. My experience has been marked with such uncertainty that it is difficult to relax and enjoy the ride even now. I called a friend who also went through fertility treatments. She was melting and making new crayons with her daughter, and upon taking a moment to chat, she identified immediately with my feelings, reminding me that the experience of my friends has been far different from mine and will therefore bring different thoughts, struggles, and feelings. As Tim often reminds me, "Our journey has been different all along. We can't compare ours to someone else's."

The second introspective experience was this:

We toured a children's hospital labor and delivery area this past weekend in order to help select an Ob-Gyn (I've just been seeing my fertility doctor up to this point). While sitting in the small room with an uncomfortable-looking bed, I realized how REAL this was. One of my friends once said after her delivery, "I can't believe they gave me this baby to take home." Those were my thoughts in that moment. In eight months, God-willing, this tiny, scary, hungry, beautiful creature is going to ride home with me and then stay for about 18 years or so. What have I gotten myself into? In the vein of honesty that I try to cultivate on this site, I'll say that since then I've been a bit anxious. Thoughts of: What if I have postpardum depression? What if I'm too exhausted to take care of baby? What if I have to be cooped up all day with a screaming infant? Alone? Without adult conversation? As I write these fears, I smile because most likely I will deal with an aspect of all of these, and just like any other anticipatory anxiety, the real experience will not be nearly as awful as I fear. And if it is, I will walk through that too and come out on the other side. Thankfully, the struggle through infertility--as well as other life issues--has taught me that I can walk through tough times and come out stronger because of the support system that surrounds me.

Thank you to everyone for all of your support these past few months. Your words, thoughts, and prayers are so appreciated. I have another ultrasound Thursday, and I'm sure I'll once again post another pic of our little blueberry-sized miracle.