A couple of nights ago, I was looking back on photos taken before Grey and I jumped on the TTC bandwagon. In a lot of ways, life was simpler: we both had an idea of what we wanted out of life and the paths to obtaining those goals were generally clear. We had our rough moments (most people do), but my motto was "with a little hard work" whenever attacking a task that seemed difficult.
The past 2.5 yrs. have changed all of that. Looking back, I now realize how naive I was with this "sunshine and roses" line of thinking. Though it is true that a happy-ending to this story is entirely possible, what's also undeniable how changed both of us already are and will forever be because of this journey.
On some ends, this change has been for the better. Grey and I were always close, but living with infertility has strengthened our marriage in ways I didn't know possible. He has journeyed to the pits of hell with me, standing beside me during moments where it would have been easier to simply walk away. Before this experience, I was simply happy to be married to someone I loved. Now there isn't a morning I don't wake up and thank the universe to bringing this man into my life. Many other things have changed too, like learning to put the needs of myself and Grey first, learning to be more patient, etc. All these life lessons that would not have come if we had not been on this path.
But not everything has been for the better. Since losing this second pregnancy, I've become hardened. The grief has caused me to be less sympathetic to the problems of others. Some of this is legit, as it amazes me how much unnecessary drama people allow into their lives. But some of it makes me wonder if the scar tissue has turned into a thicken hide, making it very hard to connect with others.
I realize what I'm talking about isn't a new concept. There are many posts from so many amazing women in this community that cover this from many different angles. They do a better job of dissecting this than I can hope for. But what I will add is how foreign it feels to be so detached from the world. Almost like something has been broken inside of me.
As women, we learn from an early age that our role is to be "the caregiver." We spend much of our lives learning to put ourselves second for our families and loved ones, making sacrifices to help promote other's well-being. My childhood conditioning is very much to that extreme, as I was taught that my problems had to wait because "so and so" had more pressing issues that needed to be dealt with. The rational is that we are supposed to be "strong." With any hurt or disappointment, the first words of encouragement are how strong and beautiful we are. These words are meant to encourage perseverance and pushing through. Helping us find the will to reload our burdens and move forward.
Since this miscarriage, I don't feel "strong" anymore. Frankly, I feel like I've crumbled. My trust in my body has been greatly shaken and I worry at times about my sanity. Hence the hardened feeling. Because I am like that animal who, having survived being beaten time and again, is now surrounded by humans who don't understand how frighten I am. And yes, I've already snapped at many hands.
This post has no point other than the fact that I'm trying. I'm trying daily to move forward and on. Because the only other choice is to stay in this current state and it's not a place I want to be. But with the trying comes the realization that I am forever changed and what that means. How deep and ugly these scars truly are.
We have our follow up appointment with Dr. Optimism on Friday. And both Grey and I have ideas for a plan. The end of this 2 week wait is in sight.