Lettin' It All Out

So I've been AWOL lately. I've been really bumming about our struggles to start a family, which I haven't blogged about before. But I feel like since only my family and friends read this blog - and really you all know to some extent what's going on so you don't just think I hate you when the bitterness comes out - I can let it all out. Maybe it'll help me process through it to write it all out.

I don't want to write about everything we've done medically. That part I've already processed. Over and over again. In my head, with Jamie, with my mom and sister and my almost-sister friends like Britt and Kristy. But I want to try to write about the emotional part of it and the spiritual part of it, how it effects just about every aspect of our lives in one way or another. Because, to simplify it down to just a couple words: it sucks. And believe me, I know many people have it worse and have gone through tougher things. Let's just get that out there at the beginning. This is not the worst thing anyone's ever experienced, not by a long shot. But it's where I am right now and it's tough. So maybe a little cathartic blogging will be beneficial.

There's something very isolating about infertility. Even if you know other women who have gone through it, somehow it still feels like you're the only one. It seems like every single girl I know is getting pregnant recently. I've had to seriously cut back on Facebook time because I found myself getting really depressed every time I signed on. My news feed was full of girl's announcing their pregnancies or giving updates, posting cute pictures of sonograms or their newborns. And it just hurt.

I do want to be really clear about one thing though: I am really really happy for my friends who are new parents and who are expecting. No I'm not just saying that. I am. It's sometimes hard to make people understand that I can hurt for me and be happy for someone else at the same time. I'm not jealous or angry at them and I don't begrudge them their joy. It's just a reminder of what I don't have and that can be painful.

Not only is it isolating because I feel like the only one who can't get pregnant, it's also easy to feel like no one understands what it's like. Which is true to some extent. No one else is me (duh) so no one else knows exactly what I'm feeling. And while I appreciate the kind words and the support we've gotten from friends and family, sometimes people just say the wrong thing (my favorite: "You just need to stop trying and it'll happen." Ummm ok. Thanks?). I don't fault them. My moods change and what I need changes and I don't expect everyone to know intuitively what I want them to say and do. Especially someone who has not experienced what I am. But as anyone who's ever gone through something painful knows, sometimes you just wish you had someone to understand you.

Loneliness was a serious issue, but some things have helped. One being online group I joined a while ago. It was something I'd though about, but I was afraid to do it. I didn't want to be in a mutual misery club. But a friend of Shannon's suggested one that is Christian-based and VERY encouraging. Of course there are a lot of girls venting about being down or dealing with some of the crummier aspects of infertility, but all the responses are encouragement and prayers and it's been good for me to be a part of that.

The other thing that has helped is a total God-thing. It's still kind of open-ended so I don't want to write too much. And it involves someone else whose story I don't want to tell without permission. But the short story is I randomly got back in touch with an old acquaintance who has been where I am. It's been a really encouraging friendship and I've been so grateful for it!

I'm not alone, and I know that. And I'm really grateful for my family and my friends. And my husband who has proven over and over these past few months that he is in fact awesome.

I feel better already. This catharsis must be working :)