It's Time for a Church Break

It seems odd, doesn't it? I need comfort. And going to church is supposed to provide that for me. I'm supposed to find solace and support at the place where I'm most likely to feel closest to God.

And maybe that's part of the problem - being in the place where I feel closest to God. The place where I feel most vulnerable because it's where I can most feel God's presence and open up.

But honestly, it's been a loooong while since I've felt close to God. So, it's not just that.

The children at our church seem to almost be there on purpose to made me feel more sad - make me feel more deeply what I don't have. There seems to be a focus at our church right now on growing the congregation with young families, so even when there are just a couple of toddlers in the entire place, we still have a children's sermon. And it kills me every time I watch it happen. When am I going to get my chance at bringing my toddler up there?

And even if there really isn't this intended focus (which I think there is), I get fixated on it more. And I'm there for over an hour with no escape. I see the newborn so clearly and then strive to avert my gaze upon it. I see the pregnancies so poignantly and I try to fight back tears the entire hour.

And what's ironic is that this week I became inspired to just 'go with it' and really convinced myself to not be obsessive anymore about when this is all going to happen for us. And then Sunday morning happened, once again.

My Sunday morning has become about mustering up the energy to not cry when I'm in church. How fun is it to go somewhere knowing you're going to sit and have to distract yourself to fight back the tears?

I think it's time for a break. I can't brace myself each Sunday morning for this type of draining energy.

I don't want to take a break, and frankly, I don't understand why this is happening. Church is supposed to be comforting. So then, why isn't it right now???

Why More Downs Than Ups Right Now?

I had a hard week. I couldn't get out of my funk of 'why not me?'. After hearing of our infertile friends this week who are now pregnant and not being able to figure out why I have these mixed feelings on it has just got me down. I am happy for them, but I'm also sad for us. But, why can't I just be happy for them and leave it at that? It doesn't always have to be about me...

And my best friend's growing tummy with #2, when we originally started trying to conceive around the same time, just keeps hitting hard to me that I'm almost at our 3 year infertile milestone. And it really hurts. And I've been anti-social in general as a result.

I went to church today because we had a big event and I felt I needed to be there for it. And I'm glad I had that excuse to go because I don't know that I would have wanted to muster the energy to go otherwise.

But as I sat there during service, looking over at my friend's growing baby in her body and our infertile friends who are now pregnant, I got the sadness for us again. Tears welled up and I just thought - here we go again. This is why I don't like coming to church when I feel like this. I see all kinds of families around me and I feel extra vulnerable and I just don't feel like crying on Sundays.

It's been a rough week and even though my fibroid surgery is supposed to bring me renewed hope, I'm having a hard time feeling it right now. I hope I can feel the hope again soon because this isn't fun...

Wanting to Scream

I can't stand that I feel this way. I got 2 pregnancy news items today.

One was via my pastor who told me that the other couple in our church who has been 'out' with their infertility announced in church this past Sunday that they are 12 weeks along. I was extremely happy for them upon hearing this. And as the day wore on, I began feeling really upset for us. Why isn't it happening for us? Why does it feel like it's working for everyone else but us?

I know that's not necessarily true, but it sure feels like it today.

Then, my husband, who was calling to check on me after I emailed him that news also tells me that our close family friend told him today that they are 9 weeks along.

Grrrrrrrrrrrreat.

It's so hard not to feel sad. It's so hard to feel like it's always about everyone else.

And I know that if I take a huge step back and look at my life as a whole, I know our time is coming (in whatever way that is). But right now, just right this day, it's hard to feel that way.

Sleep. Eat. Read.

That's what my vaca basically entailed. Here are some re-cap thoughts on our time in Edis.to, SC:

• I was really tired still from fibroid surgery and slept A LOT
• I felt the pangs of infertility watching the other 3 couples with their kids... us with none
• My husband's friend's wives/girlfriends are great and were interested in knowing more about our journey
• Ended up finding out that one of the women is 37, hoping to get married next year and also has a fibroid, and is scared about it affecting her infertility
• Another woman is on her second pregnancy but has had recurring miscarriages - two before her first child and two before this current pregnancy
• We ate a lot
• There was a lot of book swapping going on therefore I got to read some good stuff
• We played App.les to App.les one of my favorite games!

Here's a fun visual re-cap of our time (minus me sleeping!):

A Little Sadness Strikes on Vaca

I want to be positive, I really do. But sadness can creep in, even on vaca... especially on this vacation.

I'm low energy still - 3 weeks in from fibroid removal surgery. I'm sleeping a lot and am not moving the way I'm used to moving.

I can't get in the water. It's not as bad as I thought due to the low energy parts, but it's still hard to not get fully in the water.

I'm still swollen in my abdomen area, which means when I do put on a bathing suit, it can feel a little snug and uncomfortable.

And there are kids all around me. When we booked this trip earlier this year, I knew it might be hard for me. Three other couples, all with 1-2 kids each. And us: none. True, we don't have to wake up at 7am like the other adults do, but I also don't get to have a toddler run up to me and give me a big hug as he says 'mommmmy' like the other adults get. And they don't have to walk the beach alone with tears spilling down their cheeks thinking about when someone will call them 'mommy' like I do.

And I got an email from my best friend yesterday who is planning another beach vacation away next month who has suggested that because my husband isn't coming that I should room with her toddler. (Who I love). But a bittersweet thought.

*******

Ok, piti-party over. I'm at a nice beach. Away from work. Away from responsibilities. It's relaxing and much-needed. And I'm lucky to have that all.

Just needed to unload the sad parts to move on and put a smile on my face and in my heart.