I've been away from blogging for a while. It's not due to Lent. I'm not convinced God think's it's spiritual growth to disassociate from the Net but I'm not questioning somebody who does. I've been away just because there have been so many bad things happening in my life I didn't want to detail them here and I no longer write at work, so it doesn't leave many opportunities to blog.
I have plans to call Dr. Elizabeth tomorrow morning to sit down and chat with her and get some ideas about next steps with my health. I keep trying to get better on my own but I slip back easily (even when I take expensive vacations) and it's not getting better to the point where I can get back to a normal life. Cryptic much?
My husband would not support any part of what I'm about to write but he doesn't read my blog at all-he doesn't know the URL so I need not worry about him judging me here. Yeah, it's great he's back but life is not a fairy tale. My biggest problems right now are exceeding pressure at work with no corresponding promotion or raise, the fact that I have no meaningful support networks, and I continue to struggle at some level with infertility.
In an argument today, my husband was retelling me what I think my problems are and he said the words, "your infertility... uh, our infertility...." But as any married woman knows, the latter part although it came a mere fraction of a second after the former part, was much too late. I get reinforcements EVERYWHERE that infertility is MY problem. My parents continue, mostly from my mother to freeze my eggs, get IVF, do something, anything other than what I'm doing now which is nothing. Apparently, doing nothing in this, my culture is not acceptable. I'm not sure that attitude is isolated to the secular community. Catholicism can dish it out, too with NaPro. Jeez, it's been forever since I wrote that abbreviation. How many bloggers are out there that are doing nothing on the fertility front? Two? Yes, it's isolating.
And I'm 35. I'm not idiotic to not think about dwindling chances. I mean, if I throw in the towel now, have I forever fucked myself over? When I'm 45 will the crushing regret reveal itself? The truly sad part about this is that it has nothing to do with a kid, a person, or parenthood. It's about shedding the stigma of infertility. I mentioned two days ago to a woman I had just met with six terrific kids which I was lucky enough to hang out with for a few hours that I was infertile. She offered up the forever reassuring story about her sister that couldn't get pregnant, tried IVF a couple times, gave up, and a couple years later got pregnant and actually gave birth to a living, healthy child. Wow! Who hasn't heard that story before. The mother of six also told me that she had two miscarriages in her twenties, thought she'd never have kids, and look at her now. Her Marine husband also recently abandoned the entire family, but no matter, the kids are great!
Miscarriage is one of those topics I feel is truly being talked about and women are getting support from lots of different places; friends, media. In Mass, during prayers of the faithful, you can put in "Baby so-and-so" as a deceased person and everybody understands that, that is a terrible pain. But at least you can give that pain a name. Not so with infertility. It's nebulous because if you never get pregnant, you don't register especially in Catholicism where conception is king. The personhood movement is predicated on "the moment of conception." If you never get to that point, what are you?
The truth is that every month we try to get pregnant and fail, I'm having a miscarriage. It's the thought that counts, right? If my intention, my whole desire and actions are to get pregnant, and I don't, it's a miscarriage. I'm often tempted to put in my Baby [ATC's surname] into the prayers for the deceased. I'm entitled.
Ok, let's get to the second problem. During the six months that my husband lived elsewhere, not one of his friends called me for any reason; to get-together, to see how I was doing, to check in. Nothing. And now that's he's back, we're just back to good! It's like the whole social experience was dependent on my husband. I told him last weekend that at least I can now foreshadow what it'll be like when he dies. Nobody will be around for me (save my family and my handful of close friends.) Why the hell did we invite anybody to our wedding? What a waste of money. If the people who witness this all-important vow in front of God and company don't get around to paying the slightest bit of attention to you, what was the point? We should have eloped to Vegas and has our union blessed during a regular, week-day Mass. At least with strangers present, I wouldn't have expected anybody to follow up.
And maybe all of this is because I'm 35. I'm coming into a lot of awareness about my own values. Not my husband's, not my family's, not my company's. Proclaiming self-determination while married is indeed a struggle. I can list all of my demographic characteristics and that wouldn't tell you who I am. I'm not an archetype.