Working Through It

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Working Through It

June 16th, 2005 (CD 47 Cycle#2)

I wonder how many of these TTC journals begin for the reason mine is?
I am so irritated and frustrated and sick of this waiting game, but I don't feel like I can go to my board and vent, as supportive as the girls there are, and complain about not being pregnant yet. I've only been at this a little less than three months; this is actually only our second try at getting pregnant, because I had such a long cycle the first go round. There are girls on my board who have been trying for years, some of whom have had multiple miscarriages, and for the most part, you don't hear them complaining; what right do I have to whine and moan and groan because I haven't gotten my BFP? I have a really good friend, I actually met her on the boards, but she's pregnant herself, and having a rough time with it so far; Lord bless her, she listens whenever I need her to, but I hate whining to her. She's got so much else to deal with, right now, I feel bad loading her up with my issues. But I have to vent somewhere; I can't bottle things up, they always end up leaking out in angry outburts at my husband and Audrey and Stephen, and that's not fair. So, here I am.
I've wanted a baby since I was 13 years old. I've always been a dreamer, and I've always been a baby person, and so it seems like my dreams have always been about babies. Makes sense, eh? Wink Babies are soft, and they smell sweet, and they don't really give a hoot about what they look like or what people think about them. They just are, and I've always wanted to be a part of that. There's never been a shortage of little people in my life; I've been babysitting since I was eleven years old, I worked in daycare for 2 1/2 years, and I've been raising my dss since he was less then two years old. You would think that I would be at least relatively happy to wait until God or whoever is in charge of these things decides that it's my turn to have a baby. Everybody tells me I should be; after all, Stephen was a baby when I got him, it's not like I've never had one to take care of, right? Yeah, I know that. I've been through all the stages, from diapers and potty training to the first day of preschool, but it doesn't make me want a child of my own any less. I don't love Stephen and Audrey any less because I didn't give birth to them; they are mine, to the end of time, and a baby isn't going to change that. But the fact is, I DO want a baby, so bad I can almost feel him/her in my arms, sometimes.
I've always hated the fact that I look so much like my father, especially in the last few years when the split between us has become so much wider and so much more permanent; I have always said that when we had a baby, I wanted him/her to look just like Paul. Stephen and Audrey are both the spitting image of their dad, and they're both gorgeous, so it wouldn't be a bad thing thing at all for our baby to look like him, too. But then, I keep thinking that as much as I look like my father, HE looks just like his father, and I couldn't ask for better than him. I worshipped the ground my grandfather walked on and even though family problems have made it so that I haven't been able to see him since I was 10 years old, he is still one of the most vivid memories of love from my childhood. The older I get, the more I think I could be content to have a child who looks like me, because that means that he/she would look like my grandfather, too.
June 20th will begin month 3 of my journey toward having a baby. Three months isn't so long in the grand scheme of things, but I wonder what it will feel like if it ends up being 6 months or a year or two years? Will it feel like nothing or will it feel like forever? I'm guess I don't have any choice but to wait and find out.

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I officially became a nanny today. Starting from today, I will be caring for a little boy from my church named Gus, and for the most part, I'm thrilled about it. Gus is the textbook definition of an easy baby, so I don't even feel like I will be earning the $80 a week his mom is paying me to watch him. As good as Gus is, I nearly cheered when his mom came to get him, I was so tired from chasing around after him all day. At the same time though, it left a hollow place in me when he had gone home and all I had left were his pacifiers sitting on the windowsill and his toys all gathered up into their basket. I thought that having Gus in the house every day would be cathartic, and to a certain extent, it is; it's soothing to sit and hold him when he's falling asleep and fun to blow raspberries on his belly to make him laugh, and satisfying to be the one he fusses for when he wants attention. But at the end of the day, I still have to hand him over to his mom and wave goodbye as he goes off to his real home. I am ready for a baby of my own, and so far, all I've got is an empty cradle. I can't give up hope yet, it's way too soon for that, but I am so impatient....

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Last seen: 1 year 5 months ago
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July 1st CD 62 Cycle 2

I was talking to a good friend of mine last night,
about the same thing that I always talk about with this particular friend; the fact that I'm not pregnant yet and the possible reason why I'm not. She is wonderful to talk to; she's sympathetic, but not to the point that she hesitates to kick me in the tail when I need it. She's very informed about this whole ttc thing, but not to the point that she pooh-pooh's everything I say in favor of her own ideas. She's pregnant, herself, and I would be perfectly content to ditch/hide my own feelings about what's going on in favor of all her new developments, but she won't let me do it. She says that even though I let people lean on me all the time, I don't lean on other people as much as I need to. She says she thinks I bottle things up too much of the time instead of finding a place to vent, and I guess in a way, she's right. I spent the first 18 years of my life with a man who did nothing but pile his frustrations on everyone else, to the point that nobody wanted to be around him. I spent a lot of my growing-up years angry and frustrated, and as much as I needed to vent then, I rarely had anyone around me who wanted to listen. By the time I was a grown-up, 24 or 25, I had learned to stuff things down inside and deal with them internally, rather than run the risk of losing more of the people I loved because they were tired of listening to me whine. I came to the TTC boards initially because I needed information; I was convinced at that point that we would be pregnant within a few weeks and that the boards would never be more than a place I went to for answers to questions and occasional light conversation. I didn't know that they would end up being the place where I would finally start learning to let things go.
I still, for the most part, hold back a lot of what is going on in my head, simply because so many of the girls on my boards are going through so much more than I am. But every so often, I just can't stand it anymore; I feel like I just have to have a dose of sympathy or advice or what have you, and I have to have it from people who understand this stuff I'm going through. My husband was a daddy at 19 and again at 23, he wasn't given the choice either time about whether he wanted to be a father, so I think it has taken some of the shine off of it for him. I truly believe that he wants a baby of our own, but the waiting doesn't seem to wear on him as much as it does me. He's been through babyhood from start to finish with both of our kids, so there aren't really any surprises left in it for him. For me, motherhood will be nothing but surprises, and I am ready for the party to start. I am ready for the first ultrasound and the morning sickness and the big belly, I'm ready for the doctor's visits and the 3rd trimester discomfort and I'm even ready and eager to find out what labor is really all about. The only problem now is that my body isn't cooperating with me, anymore. My cycles were clockwork for half my life, bang on time every month from the time they first started until just a few months ago; then, just when I really needed them to be regular, they went completely wacky on me. As much as I know that I need to do something, that things more than likely aren't going to straighten out on their own, I am still stubbornly avoiding calling the doctor. I am, deep down inside, terrified. I am scared to my bones that she is going tell me that there is something wrong with me, and that I have to give up my hopes of being somebody's biological mom.