I miss the me that never cried.

It's almost always at night when the feelings come out. It's just past midnight, so it's time to record my rambling thoughts. It helps get them out of my head so I can try to sleep.

Today marks exactly two months since I had my baby.

The feelings pour out of me when I'm getting tired, there is less to distract me, and it's been a long day of holding it together.

The nights are too quiet, I'm stuck in my house, and I can't run away from my thoughts.

You know, years ago I used to pride myself on never crying. There was no movie that could make me cry. I used to roll my eyes when people teared up while speaking in church because I just couldn't understand.

Then infertility happened.

I went from someone who rarely cried to someone who cried at the drop of a hat. Not even just at things related to infertility- all of my coping skills went downhill. My emotions became so much more raw.

I used to sit in church and cry (subtly) almost every week. Since David is the organist I would sit alone and see everyone else surrounded by their children.

So I was already feeling unstable from four very long years of battling infertility and failing every month to get the one thing I want out of life when I lost my son.

At this point, I'm proud of myself if I go half an hour without crying. This is why I can't be in public yet lol.

One day I decided to count how many times I teared up because it's really getting ridiculous and I'm sick of it and want it to stop.

I had a fairly good day and my count was about 20.

I tried again the next day and stopped when it got to over 50. It goes without saying, but that was a bad day.

I've felt a bit more hopeful the last few days because it looks like we'll be able to try IVF again much sooner than I initially thought. Like- within weeks.

Unfortunately that tiny bit of hope is not quite enough to cure ridiculous things like crying at Target when every other person you see has a baby. It makes sense if you think about it, because generally people without young kids are at work during the day and not at Target. But still.

I'm still thankful for that tiny bit of hope, but it doesn't turn off my grief and it doesn't mean I'm not stressed about both IVF and being pregnant again.

Doing IVF is frankly horrible. It's certainly survivable, but it's deeply unpleasant and if you didn't have to endure it to have kids you should feel incredibly privileged.

Countless doctor's appointments and uncomfortable procedures, painful needles, being covered in bruises, and medications that have the side effects of making you feel even more emotional. But by far the worst part is the stress and uncertainty of waiting to find out if it was all worth it.

At my clinic you go in for a blood test 9 days after an embryo transfer. Then you leave and wait for hours for the phone call to know if you're pregnant and what the HCG level was. You don't know exactly when they're going to call and you feel sick with worry all day while you wait (and by the way, for round #2 in October, I would have to get up at 4am, drive to Illinois, do the blood test, rush to work and get there late and then try to work while waiting for the dreaded phone call).

If it was positive, you have to repeat the whole process over again in a few days to make sure the HCG goes up appropriately. In my case last time, I had to do the blood test 4 times because my HCG levels were on the low side and they weren't sure if the pregnancy would continue.

Then came the ultrasound torture. The moment of truth finding out if years of waiting, months of preparation, $20,000, and weeks of pain and side effects were worth it and there is anything in your uterus. 

Is the baby in the right place? Is it the right size? Is there a heartbeat?

Last time, after 4 blood tests I waited another few days for the first ultrasound. I was 6 weeks and there was no visible baby or heartbeat yet, which meant more uncertainty. I had to wait a whole week for another ultrasound at 7 weeks to see my son and the flicker of his heartbeat for the first time.

It was an entire month of complete uncertainty. I couldn't say the words 'I'm pregnant' out loud for the longest time because I was so unsure and worried all the time. Instead I said things like 'the test was positive for now but we'll see.'

Long story short, there is not one part of me that can relate to people that simply have sex, pee on a stick a few weeks later, and then celebrate with no doubt in their minds that they'll be bringing home a baby in 9 months.

Do you know there are people who get pregnant easily and then actually complain that their husband can't come to appointments with them or that they can't have baby showers because of Covid? I can't fathom being so incredibly shallow.

(Yes, I'm sure I've had first world problems in my own life at some point where I've complained about stupid things too. But this is venting time.)

If we're lucky to get past the hurdle of getting pregnant, I'm also terrified to be pregnant. 

I'm scared the baby won't make it again. I'm scared my body will fail again and kill another one of our children.

I'm scared that I'll go crazy not being able to do anything. Some of the only things that have helped me cope the last few months have been getting out, exercising, long walks, and deep cleaning. I won't be able to do any of those things.

I'm scared of being sick again. I'm dreading the nausea. I was on the verge of throwing every day all day for months (and I did throw up at least a few times a week). I'm scared to start that process over from scratch.

Basically, I'm scared that I won't be strong enough in this state that I'm in to get through all of this. But I have no choice.

I just wish I was normal. Can't I be normal in one way related to fertility? Not just one of us, but BOTH my husband and I have fertility problems, I had issues with extreme nausea the whole time I was pregnant, and now we find out I also have problems staying pregnant.

Why would I be optimistic at this point?

I miss the old me.