So Tired

I had a terrible weekend -- the worst that I've had since I found out about our infertility.  I woke up crying on Saturday, and pretty much cried the rest of the weekend.  I just couldn't stop.  All I could figure is that I'd ovulated some time over the weekend, and that my hormones dipped as a result.  I don't normally suffer from depression, but I think I was experiencing real symptoms of depression this weekend.  It was downright scary.

I could hardly drag myself to church on Sunday, but my husband was moderating the service, so I wanted to make a show of support.  Although I was on the edge of tears much of the time, I made it through the service relatively unscathed.

But at the end of the service, I was standing next to a pregnant friend of mine, watching her watch her one-year-old son toddle around, when she asked me, oh so innocently, "So what about you? When are you going to have kids?"

I started with the standard reply from the infertility textbook, "We'd love to have kids, but it probably won't be for a while."

I was hoping she might drop it, but she kept pressing on.  "Why not?  Come on!"

Ok, take two.  "We'd love to have kids, but we can't."

She looked puzzled.  "You mean, because of your husband's work?" (DH has been freelancing on a major project, the release date of which has been pushed out again to this summer.)

"No..."  I was starting to wonder if she was really daft, and if I was going to have to spell it out.  But then I realized something that hadn't really dawned on me before.  Infertility is not foremost on everyone's mind, least of all a fertile person's mind.  I don't think this friend even considered that we might be going through infertility.

So being absolutely exhausted with keeping up this strong facade, of having to hide my infertility, of feeling beaten down by life in general, I was just honest with her.  "We're infertile."

I wasn't sure how she would take it.  She and I aren't super close, but we're part of a small church, and so we get to chat often.  She gasped, and put her arm around me, and said, "Oh Christina! I'm so sorry."

I just broke down.  I started telling her our story and, of course, cried while I did.  When we first started talking, there was no one in the room with us.  It was right when the waterworks started that, wouldn't you know it, everyone decides they need to come into the room and straighten up or gather their stuff.  Anyway, my friend was supportive and kind about the whole thing.  Sometimes she said daft things like, "I understand" (I doubt she did), but I know she meant well and her heart was in the right place.  Overall, I did start feeling a little better after that.

The important thing that I realized from my conversation with her, and from my crappy weekend, is that I'm so tired of hiding the truth of our infertility.  I'm so exhausted with carrying this burden by myself and feeling like I can't talk about it with anyone in my real life.  Feeling like I always have to put on a happy face and pretend that everything is alright, that nothing gets to me.  There are times -- and none magnified as strongly as within these past couple of days -- when I just feel like my world is crumbling all around me, like my life is skidding out of control.  When the life that I'd always imagined has disintegrated into ash, blown away by a puff of air.  I wonder if I will ever be me again -- just me -- without the shadow of infertility as my constant twin.  Is it scary to say that I honestly don't remember the person I used to be before infertility?  Before the constant worry?  Before the perpetual low-grade sadness that's draped itself over my life like a constant film of dust?  They say that this pain will one day go away, and in my logical mind, I know that's true.  This too shall pass.  But regardless, I'm still terrified I will never get back to that old me again, that I'm lost forever.

Over the weekend, I downloaded the new Deerhunter album, Halcyon Digest.  I've been playing one track over and over again -- "Helicopter."  The lyrics are haunting.  They make mention of drugs, but I don't get the sense he's talking about illegal drugs.  It seems like he's talking about legal drugs for a medical condition.  I can't figure out what the exact meaning of the song is, but it resonates with me if I put the lyrics in the context of infertility.  It's suited my mood and mindset, so below are the video and lyrics.

I am thinking about seeing a counselor to talk through my feelings. This all may be worse than I've been admitting to myself.  Maybe it's time to talk to someone.

"Helicopter" by Deerhunter

Take my hand and pray with me
My final days in company
The devil now has come for me
And helicopters circling the scene

And I pray for rest
Could you pray for us?
We know he loves you the best
We know he loves you the best

The light's inside my cave
I'm tired of my pain oh 

Oh, these drugs, they play on me

in these terrible ways

They don't pay like they used to pay

I used to make it day to day

No one cares for me
I keep no company
I have minimal needs
And now they are through with me

Now they are through with me
Now they are through with me
Now they are through with me

Now they are through with me