Here's what kept me awake last night: Dread. In the darkness, in the languor, it was hard to pinpoint the feeling at first, but it eventually came to me: I was feeling a deep dread sitting on my heart like a heavy, smooth stone.
OK, so what was I dreading? In my head, I tried to make sense through the fog, and I started making a mental list.
Sadness and disappointment.
Anger.
Shame.
Fear.
Doubt and hopelessness.
This is the cycle of emotions I go through every month when I fail to conceive, and I am dreading having to endure the pattern one more time.
First I'm just sad. So, so sad. I mourn the lost dream of growing our family and all the excitement that comes with it.
The outrage is always quick to follow; sometimes it even shows up before the sadness does. It infuriates me to think of all the wasted injections, pelvic scans and swallowed pills, all the times I handed over my credit card for nothing.
Then the questions start coming, and I have to admit to everyone that my body has failed again. Not only am I disappointing myself, but also my husband, our families, and all our friends who so fiercely root for us. I feel like less of a woman, like a fool for thinking it could happen, like maybe I don't deserve children. I am ashamed.
Inevitably, I start to worry that we'll never be able to start a family, that we have years more of failed treatments ahead, followed by ... what? All the uncertainty, expense and case work of adoption? Waiting for the phone to ring, wondering if it ever will ... ?
And on and on my fears go, until hope recedes and I begin to doubt this dream. Maybe we should just give up; maybe it would be easier, or at least less painful. I always thought that a major part of my purpose would be to raise children, but maybe it's something else. But what? I feel like a boat lost at sea with no anchor, just drifting.
Anticipating this monthly grieving process keeps me up at night. But the amazing thing is, I always seem to cycle through it and come out on the other side -- ready to try again. Ready to believe again that it could happen. Ready to let others into our vulnerable dream. Ready for more needles, more specula, more vaginal suppositories and transvaginal wands. Ready to hope again.