Before we begin, let's get out of the way that (1) life is exactly what I want it to be, thank you very much and (2) really, life is exactly what I want it to be (well, minus the sleep deprivation).
I've been spinning lately. Infertility, recurrent pregnancy loss, egg donation that is.
Without paying my therapist $125 I can self diagnose that this has to do with it being the anniversary (of sorts) of my first pregnancy loss (things started to go wrong on Oct 29 and ended with d&c on Dec 19) so this time of year can be hard. And then there's the fact that I'm writing about all this stuff, because the two book manuscripts deal with it so there it is. Sometimes I look at Tiny Boy and LG and my heart just breaks for all that I have and all that I don't.
I'm not cosmically sad in the way that I was three years ago, on the verge of making the DE decision. Or the way that I was eleven years ago, when I lost baby #1. But it's this off-kilter feeling I can't shake. Better since I decided not to donate the embryos. Better since it's been a while since I weaned (I think my hormones are evening out) and I'm getting more sleep. But it's there. And I wonder if it will always be there, if I'll ever be able to write anything else (even when I think of switching genres and writing fiction it's about lost and distraught mothers).
I wear a pomegranate charm and the other day it slipped off my wrist into the toilet. That has to be some kind of metaphor, right?
I've been spinning lately. Infertility, recurrent pregnancy loss, egg donation that is.
Without paying my therapist $125 I can self diagnose that this has to do with it being the anniversary (of sorts) of my first pregnancy loss (things started to go wrong on Oct 29 and ended with d&c on Dec 19) so this time of year can be hard. And then there's the fact that I'm writing about all this stuff, because the two book manuscripts deal with it so there it is. Sometimes I look at Tiny Boy and LG and my heart just breaks for all that I have and all that I don't.
I'm not cosmically sad in the way that I was three years ago, on the verge of making the DE decision. Or the way that I was eleven years ago, when I lost baby #1. But it's this off-kilter feeling I can't shake. Better since I decided not to donate the embryos. Better since it's been a while since I weaned (I think my hormones are evening out) and I'm getting more sleep. But it's there. And I wonder if it will always be there, if I'll ever be able to write anything else (even when I think of switching genres and writing fiction it's about lost and distraught mothers).
I wear a pomegranate charm and the other day it slipped off my wrist into the toilet. That has to be some kind of metaphor, right?
I'm not sure what pomegranates in the toilet symbolize, but I sure know it's probably the sign of an honest, self-aware person to honour such important grief anniversaries by twirling in the spin cycle a little. You went through some really, really hard stuff, and I think it's healthy to remember it.
ReplyDeleteBut that's just me.