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A busy month, full of activity, is keeping my mind occupied, but the sadness in our house continues. As if the grim reaper has not already dealt us enough blows, one of my beloved dogs has died a lonely, tragic death.
George was only eight years old, but he had a myriad of health problems. Bad genes. He also had some quirky behavior, including a tendency to eat anything that he could chew and swallow. Unfortunately, he managed to locate one of my husband's stray leather belts; either the tanned leather or results from the surgery to remove it killed him. I grieve especially hard because he was all alone in a cage at the vet's when he died. He now sits on a bookshelf in an urn, looking over my shoulder as I type. Needless to say, we have decided to keep the newest stray, Frodo, whom my husband took in two months ago, and think that Frodo's finding us was perhaps a premonitory blessing. I only wish that it were so easy with the babies.
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I am trying to keep pace with my fellow consultants in the direct-selling business, but it's hard with the monthly emotional swings that I'm experiencing. This business requires a constant "up" mood, something that is becoming harder and harder to pull off. I am compelled by the bills that are piling up, a result not only of our wedding and honeymoon, but also of my choice to quit full-time employment. At times, I feel guilty for not "pulling my own weight", but Jim and I still agree that if this is what we need to do in order to become pregnant, so be it. We'll sacrifice.
The bills looming over our heads are a constant reminder of our goal -- to have children. After all, I would have been perfectly satisfied to forego the wedding and honeymoon, and settle for continuing to live together sans legal contract, had I not wanted children. I think about the majority of my married friends, my older sister, my in-law's, and how most of them, in traditional fashion, timed their child-bearing and their finances so that they were comfortable. They were also ten years younger than I am now. We no longer have the luxury of "timing" a pregnancy, I feel. At times I feel enraged at how I was somehow convinced of my ability to put off having children until this late in my life.
Adding insult to injury, I am preparing to be a bridesmaid in my good friend's wedding. She will be a plump six months pregnant, and I had hoped and talked with her about my being pregnant during the ceremony, too. Now that is not to be, and to make matters even worse, Jim is unable to attend the wedding due to work. It's bad enough to have to wear one of those damn bridesmaid dresses again; now I have to go out of town alone and know that the entire time, I'll be comparing notes on the size of her belly versus mine. It feels more like a business trip to me, rather than the joyous occasion that it is.
While my close friend goes through her pregnancy and wedding plans some 400 miles away from me, I am making new friends online. In one area where I have become a regular visitor, a chat has developed for people with infertility. I never in my wildest dreams thought that I would enjoy talking about such a topic, but I do. Even if our discussions veers way off the intended path, just knowing that these women are going through what I am is an incredible relief. Not one of them ever says "just relax and you'll get pregnant", or "maybe it was for the best" about the miscarriages. We have the same fears and hopes, and we can talk about them openly with each other without worrying about making anyone uncomfortable.
It's strange that as I find myself more involved with these other women, some with children, some without, but all aching for the same, I can feel myself changing. It's like I've rounded yet another bend. I'm not sure if I like it yet, and I don't really know what direction it's taking me, but life feels very different to me now.
© Tracy Morris
