Speaking Truth

Thanks to Holli for letting me share :)

When Holli posted that tweet about a week ago, I was struck.  The day before, I had finally worked up the nerve to write my last post.  It took so much for me to break the silence in the limited way that I did to begin to address what I have spent the last two and a half weeks trying to ignore.

What has resulted from that suppression is anxiety levels that have my OCD so out of control I am on the verge of panic attacks. Insomnia is rampant because all I can think about is the laundry list of things that need to be done in my house and at work.  I have been able to eat very little because my nerves are on edge.  I am focused on everything else that is around me to not have to focus on what is going on inside me.  My lack of control over what's going on has only served to create a circular problem:  the more control I try to exert, the less handle I have on it, the more anxiety I have, the more control I try to exert....and around and around it goes.

And so, this post is meant to take a page out of Holli's book and speak my truth out loud.  I have been testing it a little with people around me.  I can't say that it has been easy for me, because I am engaged in an internal war.  Okay, I realize that sounds a bit melodramatic, but I'm going with it anyway.

When Z was two years old, our attempts to use Clomid (which had previously resulted in two successful pregnancies) failed.   We decided to take a break and reassess what we wanted to do.  Last year, hubs and I decided to take our infertility treatments to the next level and visited a fertility clinic.  We wanted to see what our options would be.

After some fairly invasive tests for me and some very embarrassing ones for him, the road ahead for us was paved with three letters:  IVF:  in-vitro fertilization.   Since this post is about my truth and not IVF details, I will save that one for another post.  I think those dealing with it need to hear about it, but for now, I need to finish what I started.

On 9/6, after completing our second IVF round (the first one obviously failed, or this would be a COMPLETELY different post), I waited for THE call.  I had gone to Nashville to once again donate to the vampires (I mean, really, do they need THAT much blood all the time??)  I kept checking my phone, making sure I hadn't missed the call while the phone was on vibrate during my meetings.   

And then the call came. 

Hope, so dangerous.  So scary.

While I had the smallest glimmer of hope, I kept trying to prepare myself for what could be my reality.

What BECAME my new reality:  I cannot have any other children.

The IVF failed.  The science failed.  And I feel like I failed.

I feel like I failed my husband and my son.  I know I did everything I could: followed the protocol to the letter, stuck myself so many times that a pincushion had nothing on me, dealt with all the side effects, and dropped trou so many times I was ready to ask for dinner first.   I also know that I am blessed to have the child that I do, as so many others never have that joy.

And knowing all that logically isn't helping me one bit.

My husband is the oldest of nine children and has wanted more (just a couple more, even just one more), and my son has asked so many times about when he is going to get a baby brother that I am out of vague responses.    And I don't know how you tell a five year old "never."

So now, I am trying to deal with the hand I have been dealt.  I am struggling with wanting more than God has given me.  I feel guilty for being selfish, and I never want my son to think that he isn't enough. 

He is MORE than enough.  He is a bright, beautiful, amazing child, and I am lucky that God has entrusted me with his care. Every day, he follows so many of our traditions.  He asks me "Do you know what I need now?"  Then he falls into my lap for cuddles.   At bedtime, he asks me to give one of his stuffed animals extra hugs and kisses to get him through the night, and I become Mommy whatever-he-chose. The sound of "Night, Night Mommy Kangaroo" is ringing in my ears as I write this, and it will carry me through the night.

And I still want more.  I want more for him, more for his dad, more for me.  I see my mom and her siblings band together to do what is best for my papa, and I am pained by the thought that he might have to deal with any of our health issues in old age by himself.

I know the only way to move past this moment and to focus on our future is to own all my feelings and "to stay out of my own way."

And, at the top of it all, speak the truth and "let the truth speak through me."