Have you ever felt like you were run over by a figurative bus, either emotionally or physically? Well, that's me right there, sprawled out on the pavement looking up at the sky and wondering what happened.
Today is a low point for me. I'm not entirely sure why, but I'm struggling. I'm sure that the fact that my baby just turned 7 is no help, as well as the completely unexpected, and shocking news that my cousin adopted a baby girl this morning. I've very happy for them, but a little hurt that I was never privvy to the information that they were even looking in to adoption...I feel completely blind-sided. I didn't realize that I actually need time to prepare for these kind of things. Trust me, this realization isn't one I'm proud of.
When is it enough? I know that no one can really answer this question for me, but it doesn't stop me from asking. SIX years now. SIX! I don't know how to come to terms with my life as it is. I am extremely happy in my marriage, and I have a wonderful daughter, but somehow it's not enough. I am not yet complete, and I can feel it every second of every day. The tears are always close to the surface and I can't shake them.
I know it's completely unusual, but I'm actually grateful for the unknowing comments. For example, last week I had to take LJ to the urgent care pediatrician because she woke up screaming (the night before her birthday) with a massive ear infection. As we were waiting for the doctor, the nurse who was checking us in asked if LJ was the oldest or youngest in the family. I simply answered "the only", and the nurse laughed and said "it's been 7 years now, Mom. It's about time you have another one." All I could do was smile. She didn't know. She assumed that I was "normal" and having only one child was my choice. I am glad that I don't wear my infertility issues like a badge. I feel like it surrounds me, so I'm glad for the occasional reality check that assures me that it is not as visible as it feels.
I think that part of what has hit me so hard recently, is that it just now occured to me that I may be one of those women who people refer to as the one who "can't have kids" (or in my case more kids). When people find out that we are trying, and how long this road has been, I am almost always met with the response of "wow, I would have given up a long time ago!" I have never seen myself like that. Ever. It's not that we "can't" have kids, just that we are having a hard time... right? It's not impossible, is it? Is that really me? Am I the one who deserves your pity, and the sad glances at the very mention of a baby? How did I NOT notice this? I look back on the last few years, and I'm completely mortified. I never realized that people felt this way about me, and now I feel like I'm being crushed under all that has escaped me for so long. I don't want this identity.
I have been run-over, girls. By a small caravan of really heavy buses. I'm afraid to stand up, because I'm sure I'll just get slammed back down.
Today sucks! I hate being roadkill.