I’m many things

Should I admit how long it took me to remember how to even log in here?  Well, a while.  But,

1. I’m still here

Still chugging along.  Baby ButIF is now Waddler ButIF (daycare’s terminology, not mine).  He’s, just, so absolutely everything.  And into everything.  And falling on everything.  And eating everything.  Which means that…

2. I’m struggling with the rest

The blog, obviously, but also all other aspects of life.  I know saying it again and again doesn’t resolve it, but birth and death converging in the same 8 month time creates a wake so large I’m not sure when the ripples will cease.  Sometimes it feels like they never will.  And, of course, what gives first is caring for myself.  Not only mentally and spiritually, but also physically.  So now…

3. I’m hurting often

I’ve only recently realized that one thing that infertility gave me was carte-blanche to focus on my health.  It was 5 years of the best sort of self-obsessive, no excuses, endless war to health.  Or at least some sort of odd version of “health” that included drugs, and needles, and miscarriages, and scarred veins.  But, health it was.  When I ached, I went to the doctor.  When I bled, it was meticulously recorded on the calendar.  When I ate, I religiously popped pills with exactly the right dose of water.  When asked of symptoms, I had a list.  When telling my medical history, I brought out my own collated file.  Two years ago this week, we were starting our IVF cycle and I was logging long hours in the car back and forth to the RE.  Now I don’t have a PCP, my glasses are broken, I weigh more than the day I went into labor, I’ve had a suspicious bruise that’s ached for over a month, and I’m too tired to care.  When did it become so easy to stop caring about myself?  Probably about the same time that I realized that…

4. I’m lost and can’t find directions

I hate my job.  I own homes in two states, and am trying my damnedest to pick up everything we’ve made here and move to my childhood home.  My run-down, falling apart childhood home that we can’t even insure until we get a new roof, rip down the swimming pool, spend lots of money.  Money we don’t have thanks to the stock market’s timing, my husband going part-time to return to school, the cost of the tuition for that school, the cost of sending the littlest ButIF to daycare full-time due to inflexible child-care policies at the only daycare in town.  The town we’re trying so hard to leave, the town my husband isn’t in because he’s regularly fleeing to our other uninsured home to meet with contractors to spend money we don’t have.  Is it a home when there’s no family in it?  My marriage is, well, complicated.  But, as with our marriage, more broadly…

5. I’m not giving up

This isn’t a happy post.  An exuberant return.  It’s honest.  And, that makes me feel like I’m letting you down.  Just like I’ve felt like I’m letting so many people in my life down these days, not the least of which the littlest ButIF.  It’ll get better.  I’ll get better.  I feel better now than I did when I set fingers to keys, and I’ll feel better yet when I click “Publish.”  This blog is part of me, and part of me I’m claiming back.  I’m struggling and hurting and lost, but I’m here.

3 thoughts on “I’m many things

  1. Your honesty is what makes us all love you and keep coming back to find out how you’re doing. I can’t imagine all of the stress that owning the two homes has put on you and your family but I do imagine that it will all be worth it when you’re all settling in and beginning to build a new home together in one spot. Keep focusing on the end goal and in the meantime, do not neglect yourself. You’re worth it, you deserve more.

  2. If you didn’t live a bajillion hours away I would take you out for a hot beverage and let you cry and vent and then give you hugs. You’ve been through so much in such a short amount of time. Hating your job and the town in which you’re living puts even more stress on everything else. And finances are the devil. I know it doesn’t help much but I’m here, as are so many, with love and support whenever you need it. :: hugs ::

    • Thanks so much, m’dear. Just hate the “what if’s.” There’s no point in wishing I hadn’t moved, but, well, hard not to think about what that outcome woulda’ been…

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