I didn’t mean to. That wasn’t my intention. It certainly wasn’t what I wanted.
But I did it. I still did it.
It’s just… he’s been hovering. Honestly, everyone has been hovering. For the last 48 hours my phone has been ringing off the hook with people checking in on me. And when I say everyone, I mean everyone. I even got the sweetest call from Teeny today, just checking in and letting me know she’s been thinking of me.
Truly – it is incredible. To have all these people caring about me is incredible.
But it’s also overwhelming.
I try to remind everyone that I don't know anything now. That I won't know anything for at least a few days. That nothing has changed, but when it does I'll let them know. In the meantime though - I find myself consoling everyone else; my dad included. Reminding them that I'm fine. That they're the ones who sound anxious.
I can hear the worry in all of their voices. The hope. The concern. The future they want for me; but also for themselves (as grandpas, aunties, uncles, friends…)
The wishes that very well may go unfulfilled.
Leaving me with more than just myself to worry about.
Because so many people are invested in this process now.
And honestly; I wish they didn’t know.
I am good right now. I have a handle on my emotions and am fully accomplishing a calm and level headed demeanor. But every time I’m asked how I’m doing – it makes me wonder if perhaps I shouldn’t be doing so well. If perhaps the concern all those who love me have for me right now isn’t a sign that I should be more on edge than I am.
And that, is putting me on edge.
I am so incredibly blessed to have so much support. I genuinely cannot even complain about not having a partner in this, because I have more hands to hold than any other infertile woman I know.
But… I also have more hearts on the line should this round fail.
And there is pressure in that. Pressure I just wish I didn’t have to deal with right now.
When all I'm trying to do, is get through the day without obsessing about those embryos that were placed in my uterus yesterday.
And all everyone else is trying to do, is remind me that they're there.
(Courtesy of Google Images)
Remind me what they could become, if everything would just for once go perfectly.
It’s one thing to acknowledge the pain I myself will have to go through if this round too fails. One thing to have to recognize that getting through that is going to be extremely difficult for me. Totally doable, but still difficult.
It’s another thing entirely to have to hear the worry in my father’s voice right now, and know how much more enhanced that worry and sadness will be if I don’t get those two lines.
To know that he will be hurt. My grandparents will be hurt. The rest of my family will be hurt. My friends will be hurt.
And it will be entirely my fault, because I wasn’t capable of keeping my trap shut throughout this process as most infertile women would.
I wish I could be more like one of them. Like the smart women who don’t breathe a word about their pregnancies until they enter the second trimester. The women who endure alone, but who at least don’t bring anyone else down with them.
Because I have to be honest – right now I am far more concerned about the reactions of others should this round fail than I am about my own.
I know what to expect for myself. I know I will make it through.
But I also know I will not be able to handle the looks of sympathy on the faces of those who love me.
Or worse; the sadness in their own eyes over what they too will lose if I can’t make this happen.
And I wish they didn’t know. Because at least then, I wouldn’t have to worry about them while also worrying about myself.
Perhaps that makes me selfish. Actually, I know it does. I know it makes me the type of person who takes far too much on herself because she doesn’t trust anyone else to carry the burden.
And I know that isn’t necessarily a good thing.
But it’s who I am. It’s who I’ve always been.
And I wish they didn’t know.
Because in this moment, when I am doing so well at maintaining my own sanity – I almost cannot handle the concern and worry which indicates that perhaps I could lose it at any moment. Perhaps my world is going to come crumbling around me. Perhaps I might break down – and those who love me just want to ensure they are there if that happens.
Even long before it actually happens.
I just can't handle being treated with kid gloves, even before anything is actually wrong.
And so, I told my dad to back off today. I told him to stop hovering. I told him he was bugging me.
And now I feel like a jerk.
Because I know he loves me. More than anyone, I know he loves me. And I know his concern stems from that love. Love I should feel so eternally grateful for.
But right now? Right now, I am proud of this calm I am maintaining. I am proud of the level headedness I have exhibited. I am proud of the peace I am feeling regarding those two ice babies nestled up in my insides.
Right now, and for at least a few days; I can’t worry about anyone else. I can’t worry about how they might be affected by the turns this cycle could take. I can’t worry about their feelings. I can’t worry about the stakes they too hold in the outcome.
Because it is those worries that will threaten to break me. To cause me to start overanalyzing my symptoms and thinking about this process non-stop. To start feeling as though no outcome besides a positive will do, because there are just too many people who stand to be hurt by a negative.
It is when I start thinking about everyone else involved, that my heart starts pumping too fast and I forget how to breathe.
Not in worrying about myself; but in worrying about them.
And I wish they didn’t know.
So that no matter what the outcome here is; they couldn’t possibly be hurt in the process.
But they do know. Because I am an open book. Because I have always been an open book.
And so, if this round fails and there is collateral damage amongst all those who love me in this life; I have no one but myself to blame.
Because I’m the one who told them all exactly what was going on.
And in the process, I have already hurt my father’s feelings.
My sweet, kind, loving father who wants nothing but the best for me.
One way or another, I truly believe that I am going to be just fine when everything is said and done.
At this point; it’s everyone else I’m worried about.
And I wish they didn’t know.
