It's 3:14 in the morning right now and I have yet to go to bed. Perhaps it's from my relapse of diet coke which I have unsucessfully been trying to quell, or perhaps it's because when I stay up past a certain hour my mind begins to run through the whys and I don't have the strength to fight them off. 2010 has been a particularily hard year for the McFarland Family. For a number of reasons I don't care to relive in this blog - yet even so, I think the month of August tops them all.
The month started out wonderfully, actually. I was about to start a round of particularily potent antibiotics in order to fight a nasty rash I had joyfully earned out of my round with IVF and needed to take a pregnancy test "just in case" so I wouldn't harm a potential fetus with the medication. Imagine my complete and utter surprise when it turned out positive. Not believing what I was seeing, I took another. Definitely a positive.
In June, we had ended our round of IVF with a defeated resolution to stop trying. We figured if a $12,000 procedure could not result in offspring, then it was definitely out of our hands. It was sad to realize that we were not in control, but also a little bit liberating to think that I could finally be rid of the horrible effects of trying to get pregnant artificially. We figured for some reason, God did not want us have children at this time. We even started seriously considering adoption. After the initial shock of the IVF not working, I was actually ok with stopping everything for awhile. I definitely needed a break physically as well as emotionally. So I let it go. I had a little bit of trouble in July when everyone I knew who wasn't yet pregnant informed me that they were but I got over it. Then I myself was apparently pregnant.
Had lots of doctors appointments to make sure I was pregnant (still had a hard time believing it), and was carefully monitored because of my previous miscarriage and the fact that I have a hard time conceiving. It actually turned out to be a horrible thing because I got to watch the miscarriage slowly unfold in about three weeks. I hung on to some glimmers of hope until about the seventh week when I knew it was finally over. When I finally finished the "process" I would have been about nine weeks.
As if that wasn't bad enough, it all happened while my step-father was dying of cancer. Because of it, I missed his passing while my husband stood by while he took his last breaths. I missed his viewing, but luckily (that's probably no the right word here) I pulled myself through his funeral. It's hard to be supportive to another when you yourself are experiencing such agony. I know poor Eric was feeling pulled in two different directions while all this was going on . . . wanting to be there for his mom but knowing I needed him too and probably being very vunerable himself. All I could think while this was happening was, "Seriously? Right now? At the same time?" I can't help but look back at it as a sick and twisted joke. And once again, ask myself, "why? What purpose did that serve?" And I can't come up with an answer.
I wanted a break. I needed a break. Don't get me wrong, I was happy about the pregnancy but I feel as though this blow is more than I can take right now. I guess it will just take time but I'm so worn out. I feel like yelling, "OK! I'm taking a break now and I'm really serious about it this time!" The next time I get pregnant (if I do), I will be petrified. It's sad to think that something that is supposed to bring such joy can bring such utter terror to someone.
I know a lot of my posts have been doom and gloom lately but it's not my fault. I'm a generally happy person. But circumstances are out of my control. I only hope that the future will bring my understanding of this month.
