I am warning any readers, I am not in a pretty place right now.
I did have many things to be thankful for, but I'm sorry, right now the bad overshadows the good. My heart is raw.
Sleep is now my enemy. When I can fall asleep, I have dreams about two f'ing lines on a home pregnancy test. I'm so blissful in those dreams, until the lines evaporate in front of me and I'm told they're just that--evaporation lines. I woke up yesterday after dreaming about two pink lines and the pain was so real again I went into the shower to sob.
Because, see, I had to keep it together for my Mom, who knew nothing of this. Who is in such a bad place herself right now dealing with my Dad that I was literally holding her up. Being strong for her. When all I really wanted to do was curl into a ball in her lap and bawl my eyes out and tell her how horrible I feel.
Instead, I changed my Dad's diapers.
Instead, we sat around crying trying to figure out the next steps for his care.
Instead, I cried onto my Dad's shoulder while he tried to comfort me--my tears for his pain and anguish and my own.
Instead, I pushed him around his property while he talked aloud about how he can't wait to get to work on his pine tree farm again.
My Dad's fight is like our fight.
After his stroke, I just knew that if anyone had a chance, it was him. He was strong, he was a fighter. He was going to defy the odds and surprise everyone.
We were too.
And now I just feel like we make quite the pair: both broken, unfixable, our families and loved ones circling around us trying to do little things to make us feel better, hoping we'll just accept our plight and make the best of it. My Dad still thinks he's going to get better--he cannot face his new reality. I can't either.
I feel like an MRI of my reproductive future would look as grim as my Dad's brain MRI. Shocking, even.
Today while driving home we talked about one week ago today. One week ago today our world looked bright and happy. One week ago today, as foolish as it was, I was making plans. Imagining hanging a tiny third stocking next to our two big ones. Today, I have the physical reminder of my failure, I bleed and bleed and bleed, and we will hang two stockings yet again. If we even bother to put up Christmas decorations.
If we had a million dollars we 'd keep trying.
But we don't.
I've appreciated the new readers/commenters. I appreciate any ideas.
I'm just so lost.
Edit to add: I'm so lost I'm just sitting here staring at the TV. Dangerous. I saw an ad for a new series on Discovery Health called: "I'm pregnant and I'm __________" and they filled in the blank with things like: bipolar, homeless, addicted to meth, etc. etc. etc.
Because that's what we need to see. Why don't they do a special on me and pay for me to do IVF time and time again until it works because I'm NOT homeless, addicted to meth, bipolar or anything other than READY to be a mother.
3 years ago