Life, Liberty & the Pursuit of Baby

As a general rule, I'm really an incredibly happy person. I know it may not seem that way from the tone of some of my blogs, but I am. I don't write a lot about how I'm all gloriously happy because I assume it would annoy the ever-loving crap out of everyone. I feel the need to mention my incessant happiness at the beginning of this blog entry though, because, but for the super-cut Ellie pictures, this post won't be all that cheery. So, ya know, enjoy! and stuff. Whatever.

You know the family drama I've been talking about? Well, without going into the details, I will tell you that I'm not on speaking terms with my sister right now. My baby sister. She was my best friend, and now I don't even see her. That was my choice, but it was one I felt I had to make for a variety of reasons. It was the hardest decision I've ever made, and my entire being hurts because of it. I miss my best friend, but, unfortunately, she's not herself anymore, and I couldn't keep my thoughts to myself any longer. I hope things change in the future. I hope our relationship can be repaired. I think we're both too angry right now, though.

Also, I think I'm headed for another shoulder surgery. I had surgery for an impinged tendon on the right side in 2007, & the left side is doing exactly the same thing now. It makes doing my job incredibly painful. I got great results from the surgery on the other side though, so at least I know it won't be a waste of time.

Today was a terrible day at work. I was there until 5, which I don't mind, but I was in court on my machine the whole time, which aggravated my shoulder. To top it off, every single defendant today was a massive pain in the ass. Fast, argumentative, and refused to slow down or stop speaking over others. By the time I left, I was completely wiped out.

Brian & I had a decent night until we got on a touchy subject & he said something that he shouldn't have. It wasn't relevant to the conversation, and it was really hurtful. He didn't even mean what he said, but it still hurt. It had to do with how my relationships with my friends have changed as a result of the four years of infertility. I lost a lot of friends because I was so depressed & sad all the time. It was all I could do to go through the motions in my everyday life, keeping my job and marriage intact. I couldn't find the energy to do much else. He kind of threw that in my face tonight, bringing up a recent situation with a friend of mine, & then saying I had put too much on him or into him or something. Honestly, I don't remember the exact wording. What I heard, whether it was what he meant or not, was, "Please stop hanging all over me you pathetic, needy woman. Also, you have a fat ass. Buh-bye."

My husband is quite possibly the sweetest man on the planet, so, of course, that's not even close to what he meant. Unfortunately, it's a hot-button issue for me. I went through so much to get pregnant, and to have how I handled it thrown in my face in any context is like being kicked in the metaphorical balls. Again.

I think the worst part for me is that I thought he totally understood what I'd been through, because I thought he'd been through it, too. But he doesn't, because he didn't go through what I did. He never experienced the guilt I did because it was my body malfunctioning. He never had to sit in terrified anticipation of the horribly painful cramps every month. He was never treated like a drug addict by doctors for asking for pain meds to relieve the pain. He didn't have to endure two very painful surgeries or jab needles into his body full of migraine-inducing hormones. He doesn't live with numb spots on his ass because of said injections. He wasn't pumped full of fertility drugs that made him gain weight rapidly and/or cause horrible mood swings and hot flashes. And he never once had trouble sleeping, while I was awake for the better part of three years, or so it seemed.

What he got was his own special room at the doctor's office With a DVD player, a sterile cup, and the best selection of porn the U of I could come up with. His experiences with the doctors, while maybe not altogether comfortable, ended in an orgasm & with him asking questions like, "I wonder who picks the porn they provide?" (There was apparently an unusually large selection of anal fetish porn). My experiences left me feeling as though I'd been violated by the dildocam without so much as a, "Can I buy you dinner?" or, "What's your sign?" beforehand, and left me asking questions like, "What's wrong with me?" and, "Will this torture ever end?"

So how could he understand? How could anyone who's never gone through this from my end? And I don't know anyone but one cousin who's been through what I have. At least not to this extent. She lives pretty far away, and while I know she'd be there for me if I needed to chat, there was something so comforting about thinking my husband, the person I spend the most time with, knew and understood. I don't really need to talk about it, but something about that knowledge comforted me.

Now I just feel all alone.

Oh, and, pictures! From Easter! Where my sister didn't come, which made me really sad, but I refused to let it ruin Ellie's first Easter. Enjoy!