I freaked out a little bit. I got mad at Trever this morning for not making eye contact with me and then stormed out of my house to go to work where I would later tell a friend that, “no, I feel completely unaffected by these synthetic hormones, I am just normal and rational and calm.” I hate to surprise you by what will assuredly be shocking information, but I must say I am in fact not handling myself all that well. I later returned home to continue my aggressive rant over eye contact, which would end with me on a bed sobbing hysterically over the drama of it all. It was not cute and I have to wonder if Trever thought momentarily that I might be experiencing a possession of some sort, which is partially true thanks to a tiny blue pill. If he had however expressed concern of my being possessed my eyeballs would have popped out of my head, so help me…
I had two really good friends ask me for updates on fertility treatment today and then ask how I was feeling. I must tell you that I blew off their questions because I’m so sick and tired of answering that question. How am I feeling? I’m fine, isn’t that obvious? I am so fine I’m mad about it.
Since I am fine, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to think through anything that might be hiding under my angry fine-ness. This process is hard and I feel a lot of complicated emotions and I don’t have the energy to divulge such details to everyone, even all my close friends. I tend to think of myself as not a very emotional person. This is partially true and yet it’s also true that emotions are just really overwhelming to me, the reason for which I keep my distance from them. This makes talking about really deep feelings and watching other people feel things about my pain about as draining as being at a party in LA with all new people, underdressed, with no alcohol.
Here’s the truth if I let myself realize it, the most prominent thing I am feeling today, the day before my embryo implantation, is that I am scared to death it will work. Yes, that’s what I said, I am scared to death of becoming pregnant and becoming a mother the thing I have spent countless tears and dollars on this year I am now afraid will come to fruition. I’m afraid to lose my identity, I’m afraid that time is passing and I’m entering a new phase of life, I’m afraid I won’t like being a mother, I’m afraid my non-mother friends will become disinterested in me, I’m afraid to be alone at home with a baby, I’m afraid it will be hard on my marriage and I am, I regret to inform you, afraid of getting bad thighs. I’m actually afraid of that, fat jiggle thighs, like it matters. There it is, that’s a lot of ugly things you never say when someone says, “how are you feeling? (insert assumed emotions like excitement that IVF will work and fear that it won’t).” I can guess that it’s probably not best to answer, “fine, I just did a hundred squats last night trying to ward off fat thigh and contemplated whether I wanted children at all…I’m sorry, was that not the question you were asking?” Sometimes I’m a normal part of the female race and feel excitement and desperation for pregnancy to be achieved, and sometimes I feel like I am what I always feared, someone who was not made for mothering. Don’t tell anyone I said that.
I prayed about it today five different times, not because I’m holy but because I kept getting distracted. Trever and I were at a party last night celebrating some of our closest friends who did a vow renewal after a long year of healing from infidelity. It was such a beautiful day and full of a lot of our favorite people. After reviewing the evening and all our conversations Trever was expressing his concern that he just walks away from people mid conversation. He can remember some major portions of conversations from parties full of social chatter but he can never remember how they end so he gets nervous that he just walked away mid-conversation. This probably didn’t happen because when we’re actually in conversation we aren’t as easily distracted as our memories are spotty.
I say that to say, I did this with God except I did walk away mid conversation. I was consciously praying and just walked away in my head and didn’t even realize I did it until hours passed. This is a big deal what I am praying for, you would think of all times I would have the mental endurance to talk to God for longer than a minute. But I don’t, that’s the thing and I think it reflects a greater problem, that I actually don’t think I’m talking to anyone. I cannot, it seems, figure out how to pray.
You see I’m a slow learner and slow learners shouldn’t be mothers. Last week I was afraid to hope because I didn’t want to be let down by a negative pregnancy test, today I’m afraid I will get pregnant and have to be a mother. Can you say raging hormones? I will now go for a long run to try and chill out. A note on running, JT’s Can’t Stop the Feeling on repeat is responsible for miles one through three and One Direction’s Perfect miles four through five. I do not feel ashamed about these choices.