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Another year over and another begun, thank goodness. While I've never been one to let aging bother me, I am not so thrilled to be turning 36 without a child. I tell myself that I must conceive by March, so that I can have a child before I turn 37, which sounds ancient to me right now.
I have just begun a new part-time venture, and so far, it's a peach of a job. I counsel students who are training to be professional dancers, a population with which I have no professional experience. It turns out that they are such dedicated, hard-working people, their needs are minimal and much more of the usual adolescent variety. The hours are lovely, I have a private office, and the clients are inspiring and refreshing -- what more could I want?
I am hoping that having more regular income from me will calm the heated discussions about money between my husband and I. He spends most of his time unhappy now, it seems, and we are constantly setting each other off like landmines in our own home. It's hard to know at this point if we are so unhappy and angry because of our losses, or if something more fundamental is wrong with our relationship. Counseling, he tells me, is not an option for him, but I am welcome to seek help.
Rather than spend money we do not have on counseling, I am seeking help via the Internet, with what is called an email loop. A small group of women who have been regularly attending an infertility chat have, through email, formed a safe, closed circle around each other. I am learning again the true meaning of friendship, as I share with these women my fears, my hopes, my feelings of insanity and receive in return their acceptance and compassion. Some of the women are just like me, having conceived but not given birth, while some have children already and are desperate for another. Talking with them all is such a welcome respite, I find myself spending more and more time online.
I have begun sending "Baby Search" emails to my other friends and out-of-town family, detailing the steps we are taking to build our little household. For now, I have only to report the mixed-blessing of news that I know why my body rejected the first two babies, and hope that once we conceive again, we will be able to prevent it from recurring. Still, I feel good about being able to share our journey with others, even those who may not understand.
© Tracy Morris
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