Hooked On a Feeling
Sometimes I can see an easy way to make myself happier with this whole TTC thing, and yet I don’t take it. I think about ways I could change my focus and make my frustration and disappointment easier to deal with. But then I convince myself that no, it’s healthy to let myself grieve every time Aunt Flo arrives, and it’s okay to prepare myself for disappointment.
I try, every single cycle, to be optimistic. I’ve written about it on here before. I figure if I think good thoughts, I’m more likely to succeed. After all, who can blame that bundle of cells for not implanting in a uterus that is filled with negativity? Right?
The point is, I’m starting to feel a bit bipolar. (Not to make light of people who have actually been diagnosed as bipolar – I do not *actually* think that I have that disorder). For example – a friend of mine announced on facebook yesterday that she and her husband are expecting a little girl. This is obviously not the first time I have heard such an announcement since we started trying – there have been countless other pregnancy announcements and birth announcements (and in some cases, both from the same people) during the time that we have been trying. And the friend who made her announcement today is not a particularly close friend of mine. On top of that, she and her husband were married before John and I were. So I should not find this a particularly upsetting pregnancy announcement. It should just be another one to add to the pile.
But no. I took it hard. I felt pretty down last night. I had what I’m pretty sure was a positive OPK, which meant we were not going to be able to do IUI this cycle because we don’t have my husband’s blood test results yet, so we’re trying the more traditional route again. So maybe I can blame pre-ovulation for my crazy emotions. But yeah, I was feeling pretty depressed about their announcement. Mostly because it was just yet another baby that’s been created, and not by us. I’m happy for them, I truly am. I just don’t feel like being happy for them right now.
Fast-forward to my lunch break today. I made myself a delicious lunch and watched the season finale of the Big C (which, if you haven’t seen, you should totally check out. It’s an amazing show). And without giving too much away for those of you who haven’t seen it yet, let’s just say the show is both hilarious and a tear-jerker. I mean the whole premise is that the main character has cancer. But this episode in particular felt a bit like someone smacking me upside the head and saying that YOUR PROBLEMS ARE REALLY NOT THAT BAD. And as I got a little teary-eyed over this fictional character’s brave struggle with a horrible disease, I couldn’t help but feel like an idiot. (And not for the whole crying over a fictional character thing – I do that all the time!)
I am one of the luckiest people I know. I have an amazing life. Why am I wasting my energy and time mourning over a child who hasn’t even been conceived yet? I’m still young enough that I don’t need to panic about this. It will happen eventually. And that’s not to say we shouldn’t keep trying, and very actively so. But I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. There, I said it. And the s’mores that I made myself for dessert helped, too.
I’m not saying the feeling of mourning isn’t going to come back. As far as I know I haven’t ovulated yet, and there is another rollercoaster of emotion ahead of me over the next couple of weeks. And after all, the self-pity and the bitterness that comes every time I hear another pregnancy or birth announcement is becoming sort of addictive, in a masochistic way. So I won’t claim to have made myself into a better person over the mere half hour it took to watch that TV show. But I needed a little kick in the pants, and it gave that to me.