Last week, I was feeling pretty good. I was accepting the fact that I am going through this awful thing called infertility. I was coming to terms with the fact that maybe it might still just be Chris and I in 2016, 2017, and maybe even 2018. I had come to terms with the fact that maybe we will have to adopt. And I was okay with that. It sounds dramatic, but after 2 years you begin to realize that this might be your reality. I understand many women wait many many years longer than 2 years, but I don't believe that makes my struggle irrelevant.
So let me just walk you through this. I find this strength and I am fine for a couple days.... then a few days later I remember I've been lying to myself and I'm not okay with it. I am a crazy lunatic who feels like I might explode because I can't keep pretending I'm okay. Because I'm not.
And you know what. That's perfectly okay. I believe I am justified to feel like I'm not okay. I don't think I have to pretend to be okay. Because maybe that's part of the lesson. Maybe I need to learn that I don't have to be okay. That I was given feelings to I don't know feel them. Maybe I need to learn to ask for help, because let's face it... If you know me, you know I'm beyond stubborn and I'm not going to ask for help because that's just not who I am.
I don't like feeling like a damsel in distress. I don't like admitting that I am in need of a shoulder to cry on. I have a hard time swallowing my pride and letting others help me.
I read an article the other day about miscarriage, infertility, and infant loss being the Voldemort of this life. That we must not talk about it or it give it more power.... If you don't understand that then you should probably read a Harry Potter book or two, I thought well isn't that true. It's like a taboo topic and it makes people uncomfortable, and I get it. A few years ago a couple friends and I sat down to lunch and we were talking about having kids.. one of my friends revealed that she had a miscarriage a few weeks prior and I sat there like an idiot and had no idea what to say. I remember going home and kicking myself in the rear for being so rude and not saying anything comforting to her. I remember wishing I could have said things and made the silence a lot less awkward and that I could have helped her. Now that I sit here and I am in almost the same shoes it makes me even more mad that I never really helped her. Sure I sent her a text a few days later and said how sorry I was and that I was here for her. But not I realize she probably needed someone to talk to, somebody to really be there for her.
I am not claiming to be perfect, but I try really hard to message and show those I know who are going through a hard time that I really am thinking about them. It could be as small as a picture of something funny or a chocolate bar or it could be as big as going over and cleaning their kitchen. I am not saying you have to drop your whole lives to help somebody. But do it. Go out and help somebody because I believe the biggest way to help yourself feel better about your trials is to go out and serve somebody else.
I guess what I am trying to say is that we all need help, and it's hard to ask for it, so be mindful that everybody needs someone to help them every now and then. And don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it.
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