The Dark Side

What I'm about to write is going to be grumpy, depressing, and snarky.

I'm not like this in real life, I promise. I'm a really happy person. My nickname in high school was "Bubbles." The adjective most often used to describe me is probably "quirky." My laugh is loud and out of control. People think I'm funny--even my high school kids who are too cool to think anything is funny. I feel like I need to include this disclaimer because this blog is a sad, depressing read. But that's because it's the one place I allow myself to be angsty.

My husband and I recently started watching Dexter on Netflix (late to the game, I know, but we follow like 30 shows already, it's hard to keep up!), and I commented on how unnecessary all the voiceover is. I find it over the top in driving home that "tortured soul" point just a little too hard. And sometimes I feel like I'm doing that with this blog. I know you get it. Infertility sucks. My experience sucks. Waiting sucks. Doctor's visits suck. It's all horrible. 

So this is probably a sad place to read, but it's because I'm always happy other places. My personal blog where I normally write is much lighter, and usually funny. It's where I write about my day, funny things that happen to me at the grocery store, pointless things I've been pondering, and dumb things I say to strangers. When I come here to write, I allow myself to be sad. 

Because all of these things need to be their own post, but I’m too sad to think about them, here’s a fun bullet point list of things that are making me mad/sad/annoyed/frustrated right now:

• Finding out that one of the girls I used to coach is pregnant. She’s the first of my former players that I know of to get pregnant, as she was a senior the first year I started at my current school. I think she’s 20 or 21. She got married last summer to a guy who is in the Navy. They were married, moved to Georgia, spent less than two months together, and he’s been on a submarine ever since. And she’s pregnant. How’s that for timing? What the freaking heck?
• My doctor said she didn’t want to put me on Clomid because she’s worried about multiples. I’m not totally convinced I’ve ovulated since coming off birth control. She’s worried about me having triplets when I can’t even get a normal period!?
• My best friend is 35 (or 36?) weeks pregnant. They started trying right around the same time we did, and struggled with infertility for about 1.5 years. I just can’t imagine us not being in the same life stage anymore. We’ve been best friends since we were ten. It literally hurts my heart to think about.
• We spent New Year’s Eve with friends, several of whom commented in passing on how we “need a few kids.” Of course this was mostly after Bobby was playing with the host’s kids and being awesome, because he’s like that. Honestly, if I were with someone else (who was a little less passionate about children), I may never have kids. I’d really like them, but I’ve never been baby crazy. I didn’t babysit as a teenager, I’m the youngest sibling. I was like 17 before I changed my first diaper. No one’s ever said, “Oh you’d make such a great mom!” And you know what, I’m not sure I will. I’ll be okay. Average, probably. But Bobby...everyone comments on how good he is with kids. He’s literally best friends with all the kids in the room only minutes after walking in. He’s just awesome at it. Countless times I’ve heard how great he’ll be as a dad. And it hurts that I can’t make him one.
• I have so many “plans” for what kind of parent I want to be. I want to break down gender boundaries, especially for my girls. I’m going to discipline, even though it’s not popular. I’m going to have respectful, functioning humans who don’t think the world revolves around them. I’m going to show that I can be a “working mom” without being a “tired mom.” I refuse to believe that “Pinterest stress” is a real thing, and I’m going to break down this ridiculous “mommy war” fad. And yet...there’s a very real possibility I won’t do any of those things. I may never be a mom.
• I want to adopt. I always have. But I absolutely don’t believe that adoption is infertility treatment. I don’t want to adopt to give our family a child. I want to adopt to give a child a family. It’s not a solution for us—it’s a solution for the child who needs a family. This is still something I’m working through in my own mind, and something that’s hard for Bobby to understand.
• There’s a couple in our church in their mid-30s who adopted two boys after struggling with infertility. I’d really love to talk to her about her journey. I know she’s somewhat open about it, because she has a blog, though it’s mostly about homeschool and recipes. She occasionally shares things about adoption, and she is a full-time foster care parent. I love what she’s doing—but I’m not sure how comfortable I feel asking her to tell me about her life. I don’t know her well, but I would like to. Why is it so weird to make friends when you’re an adult?! Why can’t it be like...look we have something in common, wanna share my juice box? Isn’t that what this whole blogging community is? It’s so easy here, but I know her in real life. There’s actual consequences...like she could be really uncomfortable and hate me. Or she could tell other people I’m infertile. Or we could end up being great friends. It’s a dilemma.
  
  I promise there are good things happening in my life too. We’re nearly done with our kitchen remodel. Things are really great at work. Bobby’s basketball team is doing well. I’m excited about some fantastic clothing finds from before Christmas. Someday I’ll write more about the good things. For now, I’m ranting.