Ethan's Age

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Deep Breath

So, yesterday was hard. It's very hard for me to face the real possibility of not being able to have children. But, brave face woke up this morning. (Until my mother called, and I had to force myself out of my cave of self-imposed ignorance.)

Last night, my loving husband placated my need for aggression and agreed to play racquetball with me, despite the fact that his back was seriously tweeked out. It was really nice to be violent with something and get all that angst out.

I left work early because I was sitting at my desk in tears. My co-workers don't really know what is going on right now, and several of them are far too nosy for my liking, so I've kept this information to just the baby blog, jon and to some extent, my supervisor.

I got a OPK+ this morning, which wasn't accompanied by the *YAY* that it should have, because I wonder if it even matters. I picked up the phone and made an appt for the internal ultrasound for this afternoon.

The friends circle I have, god bless them, are childless and unmarried, or married with chidren coming out of them like bunnies and I feel a bit alone. Even last night, when sharing this information, I was told that I was "Still young." Yes. I'm still young. But I'm still infertile.
So, I want to take the time to recognize you, the reader who may or may not know me. I've received beautiful comments and emails of support and love. I've been overwhelmed with the caring I've found in this circle of strangers. Your encouragement, information, and support have caused a huge burden to be lifted from my shoulders. Thank you for walking with me.

I will be updating later this afternoon when more information becomes available.


  1. A burden shared is a burden halved. Lay it on me (and us), and we'll help you carry it.

  2. I totally know where you're coming from on the "I have nothing but either childless/childfree or 'breed-like-bunnies' friends & family members" front.
    Thank you, for sharing your story with me and your other readers. I know we help you, even if it's just with the knowledge that you're not alone. And it's definitely a two-way street, knowing that you're out there struggling with similar issues as me, makes me feel a little less alone and hopeless.
    I hope you get wonderful news at your appointment this evening.

  3. I've been horrible at actually commenting so now I will so that you know that we really are listening. (This is Emma, btw.) And I know that none of the platitudes or well-meant comments help at all. I wish that I had some really eloquent way to convey what I really know but it's just this: it will happen. It will. I've seen way too many baby miracles to not to believe in even the smallest inklings of hope.