Where do I begin? Why do not write anymore? Because my life is almost perfect yet I am still so damned depressed. This is probably the worst moment to come here and talk because who is still listening? I mean I have been here four times in a year or something like that?
At this moment I just cannot catch my breath I need to do something with it. So I am sorry if you are reading now and instead of getting a good update you get this sad whiny post. It is almost like the friend who only calls when she needs something. So please do not feel obligated to leave a message...I know I have not put the time in to deserve support.
Over the last two years being a mom has been so good, so rewarding, so tiring, and dare I say almost perfect! That is great I know. My kid is smart, healthy, and so well behaved without having to nag at her to be so. We get along brilliantly. How on earth did I get so lucky? Her daddy is just the best Daddy and husband....perfect! Pollyanna here...right? Uber positive Alex on the kid front. But it is true and I am not a dillusional mom but a happy mom.
So this is why I feel so crappy about complaining about my life. The something-that-is-missing creeps in and I have not energy. The missing parts are money. We are severely in debt because of infertility and the adoption to the point that I honestly have to look at moving from my home. This financial burden is so damn heavy and I feel like I am going under. We have buildings to sell with equity but I am so damn tired I just do not know what to do.
Infertility rears her ugly head more than I like to admit and damn I am such a fucking broken record already...I know! Just just the fuck-up. But my heart cannot silence over the pain that wells up in me from time to time. It is easier day to day because I have my perfect child. But the rare occasion it rears up to remind me of my barren pathetic womb it is so deep maybe even deeper. I am going on seven years of never getting pregnant, a drained bank account because of this, and I do not even have the right to start thinking about the next child because uummmmm with what money would I get another child.
So many years have gone by and barely blink when I get my period but due to my odd hormonal flux my body sometimes acts pregnant...the tiniest bit of hope twitters in and I find myself rejecting the thought adn rolling my eyes at the naivete of hope. I hold off on testing with my dusty dollar store pregnancy tests until weeks have gone by and the hope has grown only I was an intelligent person to have squashed that hope. How many times can we come crashing down from hope that we will not rise again. What is it that is so persistent about that bitch called Hope?
I want to go back to being a midwife but it is such slap in the face and I feel myself walling off so many feelings when I am around the mothers. What do I do with these two things...passion and heartbreak that are so clashing in opposition? How do I get to where I want to be? Why does life feel so heavy sometimes yet so good. Bittersweet chocolate.
(again I want to reiterate just in case you are reading between the lines and decide to troll me later...my (adopted) kid fills all gaps for me regarding mothering and being "MY" child. This sentiment has nothing to do with my daughter for all that she is. A biological or adopted child cannot and SHOULD not fill my crevices of despair and frustration with what life has dished out to me. That is not her burden and I will never ever make that her burden or any of my children no matter how they come to me. I have been trolled one too many times over the past year so thought that I would just cut you off at the pass now. Funny since I have not even been writing!)
Every hard spot in my life has made me stronger, better, smarter, wiser, and made me ME. But infertility...not so much. It has kicked my ass and I am not for better. I am more jaded, fat, depressed, bitchy, hardened, and bitter. I feel like I have missed a window into my life. I cannot crawl my fat ass back up into that window to live normally. It traipses (infertility) into all aspects of my life even when I beat it back with a broom and reminders of all the wonderful that my life is. I never feel like I can relate normally to the mothers in my babygroup. They all had their children and bonded during the baby period while I was off in Guatemala back and forth leaving my baby with a stranger..this still kills me and brings tears to my eyes how my heart was ripped out when I said goodbye to my Scarlett. They got to breastfeed and know their babies every minute of their life but I have gaps in my memories because those memories were never mine to have. My eyes never witnessed those precious moments of my babies life.
I swear to GOD if you say to me that those first six months are just boring, unimportant, and not even cute but just filled with changingfeedingdiaperingnosleep I will come out of this computer first strangle you and then ask you to leave your newborn with a random lady at some house on the next street over ....I get to pick the house because this is as random as it was for me but it was a lady in another country I did not know. Ok a bit violent here but I have gotten this answer from people that do not worry I missed nothing.....nothing but my babies life.
I feel a little post traumatic stress disorder over the whole adoption thing. Leaving a child you fell in love with is the worst thing ....maybe worse than infertility. I just do not know where to go with these feelings...they are the reality. Nothing I can do about it. Now, she is home safe and sound living a normal little life with us. I am so grateful. Yet, I am so sad.
That is all I have for you now. I need to stop crying and get on with my day.