"It’s like we’ve got these cups in our life. One for family, and one for friends, and one for work, and one for a love—and any one of these cups can be so full that it’s literally running over, but the part that runneth over doesn’t runneth over into any of the other cups. Excess work-juice doesn’t fill up an empty family cup, any more than an abundance of friendships can fill up an empty love cup. Which is maddening and a little unfair, but probably, just as it should be." -meg fee
As I sit here, I realize that again I have that feeling in my gut mulling over if I really want to share this or not. Am I really comfortable having something so personal out there for you to know. I am the kind of person to slowly get into a pool, starting with my toe and then, slowly pulling my body into the water. But IVF isn't a pool, hell, it's not a pond, creek, river, or lake. This is an ocean of emotions, with currents and tides pulling in all directions. Each wave crashing down with such force knocking me off my feet. It's not just the waves either, it's the wind, the texture of the land I'm standing and the temperate. It's all these things and I struggle finding myself in the moment.
Where to begin.
Truth be told, when we got the first phone call it was all tough to hear. Even though I suspected most of it, and knew deep down it was all likely, it was still incredibly emotional for both of us. We both realized in that appointment, and throughout this process, just how much our life will be different. Immediately, and possibly long term. The rose colored glasses are off, and we are both processing the news slowly.
I am a barrel of emotions when it comes to it, and my mood and approach to it changes almost by the minute. It's all still really confusing, overwhelming, gosh it's overwhelming, and scary. I feel both a healthy motivation to jump into treatment, and a sense of defeat and bitterness to everyone who's pregnant and so healthy, who never have to go through the daily battles.
That's really hard to admit, and I hope it's not received in the wrong way. I try to be a positive person, I try to focus on the good. I try to eliminate the negative and have a positive attitude in hopes that my mind will focus on those moments, and in turn, good will come back to me.
Lately though, I have been hardened, because it seems like we're being pummeled with bad news. It would be fake for me to say otherwise. It absolutely pains me to say that, as I feel like it's a completely different person than I was 2 years ago, 5 years ago especially. I guess life has just worn me out for the moment.
I'm not giving up, and I do believe I can get back to that cheerful, positive person I was, I'm just not ready to pull the pom-poms out yet, and I think that's okay. Please let that be okay. I decided in 2015 to open up more. The hardest part of this entire process, besides the unknown, has been the isolation. The living away from family and friends physically, Spencer's long school hours, and putting up barriers emotionally about how we are really doing.
Since we've moved to Iowa we've felt incredibly lonely and isolated, like we're battling this huge beast all on our own and no one even knows. When you live by family and friends they're in your home, you're in there's, you can gauge a persons well being much easier, and it's much easier to open up. Over the phone, email, text, instagram you get the tiniest fraction of what is really happening. It's hard for me not to tell myself "they won't understand". I usually say that in my head, and just keep things to myself.
I am also a pleaser by nature. I know people don't like complainers, I know people like me for my "cheerful, fun nature", and so that's the side I show, even when I don't feel that way. It's sort of a double edged sword, because I keep myself isolated.
Sometimes talking to people who don’t understand, but are genuinely empathetic is helpful, and sometimes they say all the wrong things and it makes it worse. And sometimes it's just my stubbornness and it doesn't matter who I'm talking to. Just please be gentle when talking to me, and I think I could safely say this about anyone who is dealing with something similar.
Listen genuinely and without "judgement". Don't one-up, or relate and then shift focus. Don't say things like "well, at least", "that's pretty good", or "you still have so much to be grateful for". For me personally, statements like that, instead of boosting me up, like maybe they are intended, only seem naive or insensitive.
I don't know that I'll be able to wrap this post up with a pretty little bow no matter how much I would like to. I will say that we, Spencer and I, love each other more than words can say. He brings tears, of frustration yes, but also of so much joy, to me all the time. Everywhere we go, he lights up the room, and makes everyone laugh and feel joy. I hope he never remembers these days of me not knowing what I'm doing and that I can figure it out soon and be a better wife to him.
