Week Update

I got home last Sunday night, so I've been home a week now. The time has passed in sort of a haze. There were many times I meant to make a post, but just didn't for some reason or another. Sometimes it's just me falling asleep because my energy is just not there - body diverting it to healing I suppose. Sometimes I got distracted... and sometimes I forgot. I'm not sleeping well. I quit the percoset last Tuesday, because it was totally messing with me - I was watching the curtains melt in my hospital room, and it was keeping me high for 24 hours. I've been making due with ibuprofen and tylenol, and so far that's been okay until last night and a little this morning. I feel like my insides are doing somersaults in order to heal... with lots of random stabbing pain in weird places that don't seem like there should be anything healing there.

Meanwhile, I'm working to come to terms with the fact I will never have my own child. I almost broke down at the church cantata yesterday morning. Something about church is making it really hard for me. Whenever I go to church, the emotions just get ramped up. Not only am I mad at myself for my delusional belief in God's involvement in my life, I'm questioning my faith, but then, I'm also thinking of everything I had planned for our little family. I can still see the children in my mind's eye - participating in children's choir... getting impatient during the church service... playing a sheep or pig or whatever in the church Christmas play.  That's a hard image to watch fade away. The pastor even said we would have cute children... but the little curly haired brunettes, with green eyes, cute cheeks and slightly larger ears, are not to be. It makes me cry thinking about it. I know I need to grieve, but it is hard.

I told Wayne this morning, I know I'm going to need to watch my tongue at work. I deal with so many pathetic and sometimes just neglectful parents, I can see myself going off. How can someone do some of the stupid things they do, when they have been blessed with a beautiful child (or as is usually the case, many children)? Wayne and I would be wonderful parents, but life has denied us, and yet I've taught 12 year-olds who got pregnant by stupidity. I feel punished for my responsibility. All the years I've had sex, I think I had two pregnancy scares, and they were due to failed methods. Turns out, if I really wanted a kid, I should have been reckless and not trying to wait until I was mentally and financially ready. I guess I didn't realize how much the loss of fertility would affect me... or maybe it's just the shock of having it taken from me when I thought I still had some options.

After meeting with the fertility doctor, I had felt so hopeful, because he said it just takes three things - egg, sperm and uterus... so all we needed was a uterus. It sounded so simple. Now we're down to just one ingredient.  Wayne said it's up to me if we pursue having children, but I'm so exhausted. I'm sick of disappointment and losing what seems like such good odds, I don't think I could go through rounds with a surrogate, along with harvesting eggs from some other woman. My husband mentioned my sister, who would probably gladly donate eggs - but she looks so different from me. No one ever mistook us for sisters... I just feel like I would look at my child and always see him/her as my sister's child.  I would probably prefer finding a donor who kind of resembles me - but that would ramp up the cost to something just exorbitant and ridiculous. If we were fairly secure financially, and Wayne's business were up and running, making money, I might consider it... but now that just seems selfish. We'd only be having the kid because we wanted, not because we could provide a secure home and future.

Other days, I feel fine with the childless future. I look at my husband and other chosen family, and feel content and happy. Lots of people have been helping me and offered to help. I feel blessed and loved. I've been reading hystersisters - an online site/forum for women going through a hysterectomy for whatever reason. Lots of women have posted about how terrible their family is in helping take care of them. I can't lift more than five pounds, I can't bend over, I can't pick something up I dropped on the floor, I can't reliably stand up for long periods or sit in a regular chair, and I can't do my work... yet my family and friends are taking care of me, without getting mad or upset or sick of my helplessness. I feel lazy, and that's like a cardinal sin to me, but it's all ok.

So that's pretty much my ramblings for today. I'm getting tired and will probably fall asleep again.