I’m sitting at my desk at work. It’s 7:53am. And I’m sobbing.
It’s all just too much. And I can’t keep up. And I’m a horrible teacher and my kids are suffering for it. And there are very large, very important projects that aren’t getting done. These are the kinds of projects that need to get done because if they don’t, whole communities of people will be upset and disappointed. And angry.
But I don’t know what I’m doing and there is no time to learn. There aren’t enough minutes in the day and I’m drowning in my obligations.
I’m just so angry that I was put in this situation. I’ve given this school nine years of my life. I built their Spanish program from nothing. And what do I get in return? They slash my program to 1/3 its original size and totally fuck me over with all these classes I don’t know how to teach.
And things at home aren’t much better. I spent 20 minutes of my commute talking my daughter down from some horrific tantrum. These days only mommy will do and when I’m not there my husband suffers mightily for it. He, like me, is totally overwhelmed at work. Since the Newtown shooting he has been working at a fevered pitch. This is truly the watershed moment of this movement. If change doesn’t happen now, it probably never will, at least not for a long, long time. And so it’s crazy at work and both his bosses are on vacation and both their outgoing message direct inquiries to Mi.Vida, who is totally overwhelmed with media inquiries and everything else. My man is amazing, but he doesn’t handle stress well and the whole thing is just leveling him.
And so here I am. Crying alone in my classroom, wondering how I’ll get through the day. And really I just want to TALK to someone and maybe get a hug but there is no one to talk to so I’m writing to you. You, gentle readers, are all I have sometimes.
I just don’t know what to do. I guess just keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope no one notices my puffy read eyes, or at least doesn’t have the balls enough to ask about them (middle school students usually do, though) and assume that at the end of this school year I’ll have produced the things I’m expected to produce so that no one is overly angry at me.
See, now that I got all that out I’m feeling better. Talking really does help.
What I wanted to write about today–before I got an email at work and my head exploded–was how hard it feels to be standing still while I watch everyone else move forward. Posts about cycles starting or being scheduled, pregnancy milestones being achieved, birth plans being prepared for, newborn routines being established puts into sharp focus just how long it will be until we can even take one step forward, let alone several.
Mi.Vida still doesn’t even have a urology appointment, as it takes his insurance provider FOREVER to process referrals. When he finally does get an appointment it will probably be months away, and then, if there really is in an infection that needs to be treated it will be another three months after that treatment until his swimmers show improvement. That means it won’t even be the summer before we can even think about treatments. My daughter will be turning three before we can even think about trying in earnest to get pregnant again.
And now I’m sobbing all over again, just writing that.
Because that is the other thing about all these posts focusing on current or upcoming treatments, all their babies are so much younger than Isa. They still have a chance at bringing home a sibling that isn’t so much younger than their first child. I don’t have that chance anymore. It’s gone, as if by magic–in a puff of smoke–it no longer exists.
How did I get here, hoping against hope that my children could please, please just be four years apart? How did I get to the place where I can’t imagine any of this working? Where the idea of being pregnant again makes me laugh at myself because it seems almost absurd. I can’t even imagine it anymore. I’ve lost the expectation of it and with that expectation went my ability to even dream it might be so.
I’m sure I just feel so hopeless because of some (very, very, tragically) sad news from yesterday. Two things actually, equally heartbreaking. And because work feels so overwhelming. And because the intense needs of my daughter and the stress of my partner and all the things that press down against me threatening to flatten me into nothing. I know I just have to breathe through this time, even if those breathes are staccato-ed with sobs. I know these are champagne problems, especially in the context of this community. I know, especially after the news of yesterday, that people live through so much worse. But somehow that perspective just makes me sadder.
I don’t really know how to end this, but I must. There are projects to be started and they aren’t going to get done with our some tired, halfhearted attention from me. This is my life. I must go live it.
UPDATE: I got my AMH levels back and evidently I have the ovarian reserves of a 40+ year old woman. The RE says that although IUI isn’t necessarily off the table, he recommends we go straight to IVF, which we can’t afford. So yay for this fucking day.