For over a year now I have been a complete wreck. Actually, it's probably been over two years but this past year was definitely worse.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with my story, my mother passed away in late February 2012 after a decade long battle with her body. Her pancreas, bowels, scar tissue, and liver all went to war against her already damaged heart and in the end her heart couldn't fight the battle any longer. She was only 55. I'm already in my 30s, so if I were to have a child next year, and if I were to die young like my mother and both grandmothers (they were 49 and 58), I would be leaving a teenager motherless. That bio-clock of mine feels like it is ticking faster than most because the women in my family just haven't lived long lives.
Mom's death came 6 months after my third miscarriage and seven months before my fourth loss. It was only a week or so after my 4th loss that a family member, who had a one year old already, announced she was having twins. To say her announcement was devastating to me would be an understatement.
For months all I could think about was what I didn't have in my life that others around me seemed to get so easily. Even the other women who had miscarried in the same year I did all got pregnant and had their babies. The mere site of a pregnant woman would start a repeating pattern of emotions: anger at my body, jealousy of their condition, self-pity, and then guilt over my inability to "get over it".
Lather, rinse repeat, so to speak, especially on Sundays.
It was on the 4th of July this past summer that I came to a shocking realization: I had PTSD. I was listening to a family member talk about the twins and I immediately became physically ill and had to leave or risk tossing my cookies everywhere. Just the mere MENTION of them was making me ill and there was nothing I could do about it.
I knew at that point that I needed help, but for anyone who has been through therapy, it's not as easy as it sounds. For one, not every patient can work with any ol' therapist and have their problems fixed in a few hours. It takes time to develop trust and oftentimes it just isn't a good fit. I've been there before, so I'm speaking from experience.
I called 10 different therapists in my immediate area and could not find a single one that was available outside normal business hours and that took our insurance. You see, I can't take sick leave without causing major scheduling problems for 7 sets of parents and financial hardship for myself. It was a highly frustrating situation because I wanted help and could not get it.
Unfortunately, not being able to get help when I wanted it only added to my feelings of hopelessness and anger. It was then that some family started suggesting that I see a therapist. You know what? It is never EVER appropriate to suggest someone go see a therapist (except maybe your best friend/spouse). Ever. It's rather like sticking a knife in an already infected wound and saying, "HA! You're bleeding and everyone knows it!" So don't stab them in their gaping wound. It's hurtful, no matter how well intentioned you may think you're being.
In this day and age everyone knows that counseling is available for those who want it. And can afford it. And can take time off work to get it.
But apparently not for me. . .
I'm not one to give up a fight. My mother used to say I was the most stubborn of her children and although I didn't believe it when I was growing up, I sure believe it now. When I put myself on a path, nothing is going to get me to stray unless I let it and that doesn't happen often.
As October approached, my PTSD only got worse. It was in October 2005 that I discovered I was going to be a mom and it was October 2009 that I found out I was pregnant again, after 3 years of trying. So there I was, 4 years later, hoping that October 2013 would be lucky for me like the 4 and 8 years before.
It wasn't lucky and now I have adjusted to the fact that if I ever have another child, the age gap will be well over 4 years. I'm not happy about it, but I did everything I could and it didn't work so my focus has shifted and rather than pumping my poor body full of hormones and wasting my limited ovarian supply, I'm taking a break to get my body chemistry back in balance and to get emotionally stronger.
I'm making progress. I had to hear all about the twins repeatedly today and didn't have to make a mad dash to the nearest restroom. I did develop a silent migraine, but I still consider it progress from even just a few weeks ago.
My husband and I are saving for two very expensive purchases. He really needs a new car and I really would like to give IVF a shot. The result is that he is saving his money and I am saving mine. It's one of the first times our financial goals haven't been aligned, but we're both cutting expenses to meet our goals and I think that's good for each of us.
Once I have enough money to cover the cost of the IVF meds, we'll move forward with IVF. I hope. My husband still isn't entirely convinced we should--not because he doesn't want another child but because the debt really worries him. In my mind, you can't put a pricetag on a child. If we have one, it won't matter how much money we will have spent: that child is ours for Eternity. For him, the debt is something that won't magically disappear and that we'll both have to work longer to pay off. Neither of us is wrong, but it has made for some lengthy discussions as we try and work with one another so that we're both on the same plan.
So I will continue to focus on the things in life I do have and that do work for me. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am a good mother. I have two beautiful daughters and I don't want them to see me broken again. My daughters mean more to me than anything else in my life and although I feel in my heart that I'm "supposed" to have 2 more children, I'm trying very hard to love my life as it is here and now. My children are growing up--fast--and I need to make sure that I'm emotionally healthy enough to be there for them when they need me and to be the best mom I can be.
