Still waiting …

Remember when I wrote this last week?

I read that now and think, “What an emotional roller coaster that post was.” And it was only three days ago!

I was positive Aunt Flow’s visit was imminent. After all, according to Dr. CP, I ovulated on CD10.

However, I’m still waiting for her to arrive. As someone who has always had regular periods, you can only imagine how crazy this is making me. Ha!!

My only explanation: I didn’t actually ovulate on CD10 but several days later. That would mean I’m not really 17DPO like my chart says, but somewhere between … I don’t even know. Last cycle was 27 Days and today is CD27 so … maybe tomorrow?

My obsessive self has Googled every possible question I can think of. According to post after post on several infertility message boards, testing for an LH surge too close to the last Clomid pill will likely result in a false positive.

I would think Dr. CP would know that? Who knows! But it’s on the list of questions for when I see Dr. GL again.

———————————

Last night as I was lying in bed, I found myself searching Pinterest for infertility posts. While my intended focus was infertility humor, I came across several blog posts that spoke to me.

Basically, these writers were able to find the words that I haven’t.

From the Guide to Being Friends with Someone Who Can’t Have Babies:

I need you to be patient with me. Infertility is an ongoing trial that I work everyday to overcome. Some days I need space. I need privacy. I need quiet. And other days I need a really big hug and a reminder that my worth is not solely dictated by my ability or inability to have children. Some days I might get teary eyed walking through the baby (a)isle of the store, and other days I’ll get excited and want to swoon over all the cute things as I dream about being able to shop for my own baby one day. I know it’s hard to be my friend sometimes. I love you for being here for me despite that.

What she writes is extremely accurate. The above quote explains my weekend in a nutshell. Saturday afternoon I shopped with a close friend for Christmas presents. I loved walking through the toy aisles and talking about what her kids wanted from Santa. We easily discussed how she would one day pass these toys onto my child, and then we joked about me having triplets. It was normal. It was great. But, yesterday I wasn’t really feeling the whole baby conversations. When she mentioned, as a joke, having an easy delivery, the smile on my face dissipated. She called me out on it, but I couldn’t tell her why. Frustration, anxiety, just one of those days?

So when I read the article, it all made sense. It really was just one of those days, and that’s okay.

Then there is this post On Infertility and Friendship:

Infertility has definitely had an impact on some of my relationships.

It’s a tough to pinpoint when exactly, but this journey – and life in general, I think – has caused some of my friendships to fray at the edges a bit.  The cloth is still intact and capable of standing the test of time, but we occasionally need to reestablish our boundaries to keep the integrity of the relationship.

Don’t misunderstand; I love these girls, and I love these children.  They are my nieces and nephews and godchildren.  I would do anything for any of them.

It’s a confusing and difficult thing to explain to people how this grief, this process, has changed me as a person, and thus changed the dynamic of some of my closest, most important relationships.

I think a big part of the occasional tension is just general getting-older-and-on-with-our-own-lives growing pains.

We have all started our adult lives with spouses and significant others, and moved to all corners of the state.  We all have jobs, and lives, and families, and in-laws, and vacations, and chores, and bills, and other relationships to manage.

Within all of that chaos, there are children.

For them.

Children take time, and effort, and pretty much every minute of your entire life from the time they are conceived.  I get that.  I get that my friends would have less time to talk to me about my life, let alone my sad and pathetic infertility, let alone manage any other friendships, because they have their own families to attend.

And this is where it gets hard, and a little depressing, to define: Sometimes it feels like we don’t have anything in common any more, aside from the fact that we have history.

I know this isn’t entirely true.  These girls care about me.  I care about them.  We will always have bonds that transcend whatever life throws our way.

Our struggles bring us together and make us stronger.  …Even if they are hard to understand and relate to on occasion.

I wanted to snip this somewhere, but I couldn’t figure out where. It was all perfect.

I was the last of my close friends to get married. I’m the last to be blessed with a child. It’s not a competition by ANY means, but there are days when it’s tough to be THAT friend. There are days when it feels like a struggle to find a conversational balance between their lives and mine. Ninety nine percent of the time I feel like I’m living in limbo and still struggling to figure out where my life is going while being surrounded by those who already know. At the same time, I can’t imagine my life without them so it’s worth every effort to “find our way.”**

xoxoxo

** P.S. I love when I can find a way to work a quote from the television show Castle into my writing. I love it so! I mean, it stars Nathan Fillion. How could I not love it? You should really check it out. 🙂

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3 thoughts on “Still waiting …

  1. Big hugs, girlfriend. I wish I could tell you that it gets better, but honestly, from the time I wrote that up there, it’s gotten nothing but harder. One of those friends had another baby. One moved to another country. I had a miscarriage, and feel like there’s nothing left to say sometimes.

    I will say this… The struggle is worth it, and fighting for your relationships will always yield positive results. Sometimes finding the motivation to do so when you feel like you’re the only one carrying a relationship can be incredibly difficult.

    Like this whole journey, the difficulty is worth it in the end.

    PS, Captain Mal is my dream man. Keep on keepin’ on, sister. 😉

    • Lindsay says:

      Thanks so much for stopping by, Tracy, and for the follow! I’ll be sure to do that same! I didn’t realize you wrote that over a year ago until just now. I’m so sorry to hear it hasn’t gotten easier for you. Most of all, I’m sorry to hear about your miscarriage. I can’t even imagine … 😦

      But, you’re absolutely right. The difficult road we travel makes the destination that much more rewarding. Don’t be a stranger around here!

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