Usually on December 31, I look back at the previous year with some wistfulness. I take the time to appreciate all that I have learned and all that I’ve been given. You do not give me such a luxury.
True, I learned a tremendous amount about myself this year. I learned what it feels like to lose a pregnancy. And then another one. And then another one. I learned that no matter how bad it hurts, you go on. You go on because you have to. You go on because that’s just how it works. The pieces are all there, you must figure out how to put them back together and move ahead.
It’s been interesting to see that the drive to grow my family is stronger than the drive to give up. To stop with the hormone injection cocktails, the random weep fests caused by hormonal fluctuations, the stress caused on my marriage, the insecurity I feel about what this is doing to me as a parent, the enormous outlay of money that we don’t have, the loss of friendships because I just can’t talk about this with anyone. And living through losses and infertility is all encompassing. It’s incredible how much a person must and will sacrifice for this. And I do know it’s worth it. My incredible 4 year old is a daily reminder.
Within the confines of your days, 2011, I have shit my pants in public. Twice. (Thanks Lupron and Vivelle). I have cried in public at wholly inappropriate places and times. Again, courtesy of of Vivelle. I have watched well over 10 friends, family members and co-workers get pregnant and have babies. While I was in the middle of losing my own. I’ve gathered every ounce of strength I have just to get out of bed in the mornings, plastered on fake smiles and pretended everything was fine. And it never was.
So, there’s no love lost between us, as you make your exit, 2011. You leave me a broken woman. I will never be the same. I will go on, I will thrive. But I will never be the same.