I’m still not really coping.
I’m so afraid that we won’t be able to have children. And the thing is, you don’t ever really know until it works out or you give up. Sometimes it feels easier to convince myself that it’s not going to happen than to be hopeful and open to my utter lack of control over the situation.
I’m also still struggling with why. “Why us?” (And angrily, but not without also feeling horrified at myself, “Why not them?” as I watch all the other women I know move obliviously, blissfully from pregnancy to motherhood.) I wish there was an explanation for why this happened, something that would give some purpose to this suffering.
I’m somewhat scared and ashamed of how intensely I want to be a mother. How much I don’t really care about anything else now. Is this really all I am? Yes.
It seems so vulnerable and dangerous to want something this much.