Lately, I find myself in a bout of emotions, crashing and rolling like waves. Lately, there have been times when I'd encounter so many photos of babies, baby announcements, even a photo of a dead baby in its coffin (who'd even think sharing THAT on Facebook?), and....
I throw in the towel.
I see people share posts of loving their mothers, loving their children, being so grateful of being a mom, and I kept thinking, "is it me or are they doing that on purpose to rub it in?" Several times I remind myself, they have the reason to be happy.
A part of me then snaps, "Then why can't I either be happy?"
*sigh* No way to go around that right now. And I think what adds to the complication is that I'm not in a relationship, so I don't have someone, where I could let go and be told it's okay.
I was getting to know someone. He knew of my situation. Yet I knew then he didn't 'get it' when he asked "what if I wanted children later on? What if I want to have kids? I don't want adoption but children of my blood." and I looked at him and said, "that's something you have to think on."
I knew it when later on when I heard nothing from him.
It has been seven months since the hysterectomy. The world has been moving on, while I find myself stuck. I have said that I have been okay. Things are good. Things are going good. I'm better.
Guess what? It's all lies. I'm not okay. I find myself hateful- angry- bitter- tearful- sad.
I hate 'em. I hate that they have babies and I don't. I hate guys who think they can decide for us women. I hate the cultural mentality that a woman is nothing without children. I hate women who think everything can be fixed by having children. "If I can't find a job, might as well have a baby!" "To save my marriage, I gotta be pregnant." "Everyone else is pregnant, so if I am not pregnant, I'm a freak." I hate 'em.
I am angry that I didn't get a say in having children or not. I am angry that everyone else around me is able to pop babies out, except me. I am angry about the woman who had killed her unborn baby a week before its due date. I am angry at the world for moving on. I'm angry at idiots who feel women should keep their legs crossed, blaming the woman for rates of pregnancy when clinics providing birth control, one by one, are shut down in name of "religion." I am angry at people who want small government, yet is fine with the concept of having government in our bedrooms, even in our beds (or bathtub or car or on the beach.) I am angry that I am infertile.
I am also bitter at ex friends who claimed they were friends, but when they found out I couldn't have children, they dropped me like a hot potato. Such pals I had... Bitter at folks who said they'll be there as they did a week after my surgery, and then they disappeared off the surface of the world, basically blocking me, not explaining- nothing. At least I'm entitled to an explanation, wouldn't you think? Now I find them on another page under a different name (while a friend left a comment on my page), brown-nosing someone I knew. They had fed on each other, being supportive of each other on the surface, yet being so hateful behind each other's back, being angry that one copied one other, "She got that idea from me, I'm sick of it!" and "Can't she be original, why does she copy me in everything?" I could tell one other about what they had talked about each other behind each other's back, and me trying to stay neutral all through it, with ugly truths, but why should I open a can of worms? I have enough on my own hands without dealing with their drama. Beside if they could do that to someone (me) who trusted them during a vulnerable time, I wouldn't trust them again, as far as I could throw them. Burned once, lesson learned.
I am tearful here and there. My eyes fill up with tears looking at a baby announcement I got in mail. I wipe tears away as one new grandmother joyfully shares a photo of her holding her grandson. I reach for a tissue as I finish a movie 'Bride Wars' with such dismay, as two characters look at each other, "you're pregnant?" with excitement. I struggle not to cry as a co-worker talks with other about their babies. Tears go down cheeks as I touch my hand on the monitor, aching to have my own baby, not even liking that photos of babies are found on Pinterest inadvertently.
I am sorrow filled. I grieve that so many things had happened horribly. I am sad that some folks are dastard, that they would go low to hurt when someone is already low. I am lying on bed, saddened that sometimes truth hurts, even leaving wounds behind.
So..I'm better. That has to be the biggest lie one has to live with in the world of infertility.