I’m
really struggling at the moment. I feel like crying most of the time,
which is not like me. I’m not always rainbows and butterflies,
but I am usually more upbeat and get-it-done than melancholy and down-in-the-dumps. It could be the fertility drugs I’m on, which have an impressive
line-up of side effects, but it’s also circumstantial. More baby
announcements, hearing a pregnant work colleague talk to another, whose wife is
expecting their second baby, about feeling the baby move and how exciting it all
is. At my desk. I had to get up and leave with the plan of having a
good cry-it-out in the ladies, but given the acoustics in the bathroom I opted
for a quiet office to take some deep breaths and pray. They were gone
when I got back – praise Jesus!
Usually
going for a run helps me when I’m feeling down or upset or angry, but I’ve been
advised not to while we’re trying to get pregnant – and after all the effort
everyone’s going to to try and get me up the duff, I dare not. After
we’re done I can go back to it with wild abandon. But I could really use
a good 5km right now.
Another
fact getting me down is my past. Every so often the choices I made and
the things I’ve done rear their ugly heads in my ‘new’ life. I usually
push it out, but given my current mental state, those thoughts have been
lingering and are getting harder to shut out. Sometimes I let myself
dwell there – to feel it – but then I feel worse than before. At the Good
Friday church service today I was reminded that Jesus died on the cross for my
sins, and my slate has been wiped clean – white as snow – but instead of
feeling uplifted, I feel unworthy. I just feel so sad.
Without
running, and with my current shitty mental state – sadness, anger, shame,
loneliness, jealously – I’ve noticed I am eating more than I should too, and
eating things I usually do well avoiding. I could write the book on
comfort eating! I feel like I’m eating hand over fist to try and make
myself feel better, when really it’s only going to make me feel so much worse
because my clothes won’t fit anymore, I won’t like my reflection and my
self-esteem will take a nosedive, and getting back into running will be a
longer and more painful (and jiggly) process. To boot, one of the side
effects of the drug I’m on is weight gain. Freaking. Awesome.
I just can’t seem to shake this funk. I
almost can’t wait to stop going through this fertility treatment process so I
can get off those drugs and get myself back. But I want to see out our three
attempts. I want to give this everything I’ve got. I told our specialist on Tuesday that when we've done our three attempts, we're going to call it a day, and he said he really respected that choice. He is a beautiful man. So when/if it
doesn’t work, I will still hate hearing pregnant women talk about their
pregnancies, seeing or hearing birth and pregnancy announcements, ultrasound photos and general baby
business. Why WHY can’t it be me? I will still cry – I’m a crier
from way back – but at least the cocktail will be out of my system, and I can
run again to shift my mood. At this rate, I’ll be set for my first
marathon later this year!
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