I cried yesterday, and the day before. Come to think of it, I cried the day before that too. I feel like I could cry right now. I spoke too soon…I am crying right now. I have many reasons for this.
First of all: the medications. This month, I took Femara. I also injected my precious, $250 dollar prescription of 10,000 units of HCG. I injected it on CD 20 when I still had not gotten a positive OPK. I figured that if I had follicles, they were darn well big enough to kick out of the nest. I finally got the positive OPK the day after I injected myself – thank you HCG. No thanks to you, Femara. I also have not been taking my Prozac. I was on it for generalized anxiety and when my mail order prescription didn’t come in the mail, that perhaps this was a sign that I should see how I do without it. Mistake #1: I didn’t wean off. Did I have SSRI withdrawal symptoms? Maybe. Mistake #2: I shouldn’t have stopped. I haven’t been doing well. My husband says that for the last month and a half, I have been short with him. I don’t do it consciously, its just what comes out.
I am only 1 week away from graduation. I should be happy, but I am not. I am scared. I am anxious. I have an amazing job waiting for me as long as I don’t screw anything up. Truly, I am over the moon happy about my new job. In late December I have the pre-employment physical along with a hair follicle drug test scheduled. I haven’t taken any drugs, but I was at a concert at the beginning of November in a large, liberal city where nearly everyone in the theater was dancing in a cloud of marijuana smoke. I was so nervous about breathing it in and having it affect my chances for the new job that I left halfway through the concert and didn’t go the next night. I know that the concert probably will not affect the test results, but I am worried. What if it does? What if I lose the opportunity in front of me?
I also have to pass the licensure exam before I can start…and I just found out that I may not get the test dates until the week before I can test. Talk about throwing my anxiety into overdrive. My academic adviser told me yesterday that the reason that I am so anxious about this is because the job is something I want so badly. Makes sense. I want it so badly that I am terrified of losing it.
Wednesday night, as I was bathing my pup, I began crying. I cried because I couldn’t afford to get her a nice haircut at the groomer and now her hair is all uneven because I cut it myself. I kept crying as I pulled myself along to make dinner for my husband. I couldn’t turn off the water works. Thoughts kept coming about how I’m a failure. I’m failing at life. I am fat. Overweight. Unhealthy. I cannot get pregnant. My body has failed me just as I have failed my body. My body has failed my husband. My body has failed my family. Infertility has stolen my happiness, our hopes for a biological child, and has left me with empty arms, an empty nursery, empty diapers and empty baby clothes. I moved at a snails pace and kept having to blow my nose and wash my hands because I just couldn’t stop crying. I have a lot of debt. I can barely afford my bills right now because my time for the last few months has been devoted to school. My calender had to remain open to fit in the preceptor hours as I didn’t receive them until late into October. I had taken the risk of working two part time jobs without scheduled hours and everything had worked out until these last few months as the hours had dried up at my good paying job. Now, I’m broke and my spirit is broken. I’m in debt. The money that I do have is hemorrhaging out….$90 here for my nursing license, $200 there for the NCLEX test, $ for review courses, $ for teacher gifts, $ to join a professional organization, $ to fix the sway bar on my car. $ because my sweet little pup hurt one of her legs that already had surgery. $ for Christmas gifts. $ for college. Oh, and $ to make the minimum payments on my credit cards. I’ve been working every chance I get and that means that I don’t get to spend much time with my husband, the man that I love, my best friend. I miss him every day. I have to stop cutting up chicken to blow my nose and wash my hands again. I wipe my tears with my sleeve. I can’t keep doing this. I literally can’t keep making dinner, its just too hard.
My husband was in the living room watching TV and heard me crying. He asked what was wrong.
All I could choke out was “I’m depressed.”
From the other room, I heard a heavy sigh and him mutter something under his breath. FML.
Sobbing, I ran to the dark bedroom and began heaving into our bed. I don’t know why, I don’t know exactly how, but I am depressed. I feel distanced from hubby and I know that it is the depression making me feel that way. Now, I realize that my husband has had enough of the roller coaster too, just like me. The roller coaster of emotions that has brought us here and has left me clinging to the shell of myself; a broken person with shoulders rounded, tears streaming, and a heart so heavy with sadness, fear, anxiety, and hopelessness that I feel it could pull me down.
On top of all of my feelings of failure…I miss my grandpa. I truly, deeply, heart wrenchingly miss my grandfather. He was my rock, the anchor holding me to the only real family that I have known. Now that he is gone, I feel like an orphan. I feel alone. Before grandpa died, I could feel my grandmother through him. Now that he is gone, she left with him. They left this world together. (He passed away in June, read about it here.)
I don’t talk to my mother because my life is significantly less stressful without her. She is drama. She embodies negativity. She lives in a world where she is always the victim. To her, the world is a horrible place. My life is indebted to her by virtue of my birth. Although I will always wish her well, it is a relationship that I cannot physically, emotionally, or psychologically tolerate.
I have a father, but he has not played a significant role in my life. He is there, but he has his own thing going on, his own life, his own friends, his own plans that I really am not a part of. It was because of my grandfather that my dad became involved at all. My aunts and uncles, who have and always will support me, have their own families. Their own children and grandchildren. Their own holiday gatherings and traditions. Their own needs.
My husband and his family is all that I have. I am an orphan. I wish that I could feel my grandpa’s energy; his calm demeanor, his silent strength, his unconditional love. I wish he would come to me in my dreams and tell me that all is well. That everything will be ok.
But it isn’t ok right now. I am depressed. My husband and one of my teachers knew that something was going on with me before I could identify it myself. I called the mail-order company and got my Prozac refilled and on its way to me. I know it will be about a week after I start taking it that I will begin to feel better. That’s what happened last time with my anxiety. This time, its not only anxiety, but also depression. Although I should be celebrating graduation, I honestly feel like I’m at the lowest point of my life.
Right now, I’m putting one foot in front of the other and taking baby steps. One assignment at a time, one day at a time, one hurdle at a time. I know that things will get better, that pits in our lives don’t last…that there is a peak waiting around the bend. I have an amazing job waiting for me that I feel destined for, passionate about. My husband is loving, loyal, supportive, and willing to help carry me through this. Our home is beautiful and cozy. Our pups are our constant companions, never letting us down and always greeting us with unending love. On Thursday we had a dinner & movie date night (free movie tickets from last Christmas) and it was very nice to leave our drama at home and spend some normal time together. I don’t know what I would do without him.
Taking Femara this month, I actually felt guilty. As I took the pills, I realized that I had wanted time off from TTC, needed time off from TTC. After this month’s tests are negative, when Martha rears her ugly head, I am going to take a break. I am going to focus on myself and getting to a better place. I already began the couch to 5K program and partnered with a friend from work for motivation. I’ve taken steps to responsibly budget and start to pay off debt. I contacted the physician with the OPK news on CD 21. He admitted that this is not an expected response to Femara and it would be acceptable to return to Clomid. Good thing we got that sorted out.
So this is my update. It isn’t positive, or full of hope. However, it is honest. It is raw. It is real. This is what I am experiencing right now. My TTC friends, I know that you also have days like this. Days where you don’t have the strength to muster the mask, the facade that you present to the world. Days that despite the makeup, smile, positive words, and the cute dress/leggings/boot outfit – your red, puffy eyes and raw nose betray you.