I almost named my blog this, but decided not to, in case it made no sense to anyone. But this is really how I feel/what I am… “Wistful” (adj) Pensive and sad. Deep in sad thoughts, especially thoughts of something yearned for or lost, or expressing this sad yearning. “D.I.N.K.ing” (noun/verb) “Double-Income, No Kids.” I am one-half of a DINK couple, wishing it weren’t so. (also trying to make a play on the word “dinking” as a sub for “thinking”---but I didn’t have to tell you that, did I?
The title, of course, brings up the recent holiday, Mother’s Day.
MD, in recent years, has become one of the most painful days/weekends of the year. Truth be told, any sort of milestone mark of the year (birthdays, holidays, etc) forces me to reconcile where He has me in life versus where I wanted to be/thought I'd be by this point (a mom with x number of babies, staying home or doing something else, whatever!), and the reality of where I am in life is, at times, quite difficult to accept.
MD in particular, is one of the most difficult. Mothers across the country are celebrated and praised, publicly as well as privately. You can’t go anywhere on MD without it being rubbed in your face…grocery store, restaurant, church, CVS, you name it—something or someone references it in front of you or to you. Even your TV, radio, and movies are safe from it. Friends are celebrating it. Families are celebrating it. You’re expected to participate in the celebration, and swallow any pain that it might cause you.
This is the second year that I opted out of church services… they’re just too much for me to handle, what with the kids choir singing to their mothers in the crowd, the mommy-centric sermon, constant stream of tears running down my face, having to make excuses for why I am so upset… it’s just too much.
So we slept in, and took it easy. And it ended up being a nice day. My DH swept our downstairs for me (a minor miracle, considering he typically spends his time/efforts in the yard during warm-weather months), and I did laundry and tidied up the house. I walked our two pups around the park where my DH had an afternoon soccer game. Spent some time looking at pictures that I want to frame for my office, and figuring out what to put on our guest room walls. (My current project is to finish decorating our two guest rooms--and no, we didn’t really intend to have two…but.) Given my lack of decorative skill or background, this is quite an undertaking. But overall, it was a nice day.
During our evening walk with the pups, DH asked me how I was doing. This was a loaded question, as he was really asking how my heart was doing with the whole baby-hungry-but-have-infertility-doing-fertility-treatments thing. I try my best not to cry in front of him too much though (it makes him so upset to see me crying, so I try to spare him that), so I managed to keep my tears in check and just talk.
Honestly, I’m both impatient and scared. Impatient, because I want to get this friggin’ IVF show on the road and get through it already---get to the point that we might have a real shot at this, at conceiving, carrying, and having a baby of our own… And on the flip side, I am scared to death that something else will go wrong. That we won’t make it to a transfer. That there will be no embies to fertilize or freeze. That we’ll experience another miserable failure, and have to go back to scrimping & saving up our money for the next __ (months? Years?) in order to afford future IVF treatments. That it will be another __ years before DH and I will be a mom and a dad to a sweet, precious baby.
On a lighter note… DH got P90X for his birthday a few weeks ago, and I’m trying to go through it with him. Luckily, he’s not doing it hard-core --- he’s done Days 1, 2, and 3 over a two week period (which is MORE than fine with me! Those suckers are tough man!). I’m looking forward to doing Day 4 this week—Yoga. I think I’m going to enjoy watching DH do Yoga more than anything…. Let’s just say this will be “beyond his comfort zone.” But we’re both trying to be more active and get into better shape. DH, just ‘cause he wants to. Me, ‘cause I know I should be more active, and at least my activity and diet are within the realm of control, right? Nothing else is, so I might as well enjoy this and make the most of it!
Lord, help me to give up bread and chips, and anything else that DH may choose to eat in front of me that’s bad (which you know he does ALL.THE.TIME.
Ps. Can you please strike his conscience about that for me, and make him feel just a tad guilty about that??
My LBs sure would appreciate it.