I know I have been MIA for a bit. It's been a difficult past 6 months on this journey of mine. I'll get more into that and tell you all about it soon. For now I just wanted to share a quick interaction I had recently.
At a routine follicle monitoring appointment a couple weeks ago, I and one other woman were early. She started making conversation with me. Anyone who knows me well knows I loathe small talk and prefer to sit there quietly minding my own business. Nonetheless, I was polite and engaged her though keeping my responses short and sweet. She mentioned how she wished her cycles were Monday through Friday because she likes to sleep in on the weekend, and she had to be up early on a Saturday morning. Girl, you're trying to have a kid, get used to it. So I responded the generic, "yea I know, it's tough". Then she said something that really stopped me in my tracks. "I'm telling my husband after this one I'm done. This is our 8th month and I can't do it anymore, it's really hard." So many thoughts running through my head. The initial thought of [8 months? I'm going on 10 YEARS+, and she has the nerve to complain about 8 months.] Then of course rationale sets it. [Everyone handles things differently. Everyone's circumstances are different. I'm not here to judge. Women in this position need support. This really IS hard. Is she getting support at home? Is she trying to manage all her stress and frustrations on her own? Is she spewing to me because she can't be honest at home? Does she really know what she wants? Is she willing to give up this soon and this easily because she doesn't really want kids? Or is it because she is scared? Or is she just frustrated and doesn't mean a word she said?]
Looking back, I feel like that was my opportunity to do more. To offer supportive encouragement, having been there myself. But instead, I kept to myself and minded my own business. I'm not gonna lie, I'm a bit disappointed in myself. The purpose of writing about my journey is to help and support others struggling. In this moment, I failed to do that.
I've been there. I have been ready to quit multiple times, but I pick myself up off the floor time and time again and keep going. I keep pushing through. And when I can't pick myself up, my husband picks me up and gives me the kick in the pants I need to keep going. It's hard. It's draining. It's invasive. It is downright dehumanizing at times. But I keep going. I hope that woman keeps going. I look to the future and imagine myself one day holding my living, breathing, crying baby in my hands. And that vision is what keeps me going.
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