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February 2, 2004 ~ Fear and Fragility
Monday.
I almost didn't post that last entry. Not just because it was so emotionally raw, but because afterwards, I couldn't help but think that I was being ridiculous to have had such a strong reaction as I did. I felt almost guilty, for I know so many people who have tried for years and years and years, and still no results. I know people who have no hope at all, people who want badly to be able to create a child, but will never have the means. And me, breaking down over what may not mean anything at all. Melodrama in a mini-failure. What right have I to complain?
But, it was honest, so I posted it. It was how I felt and acted in a certain space of time. Sometimes, what looks like calm water has an incredibly strong current, and you find yourself just above the falls with little chance of fighting your way back to safety. Before I knew it, I lost a few precious feet and was over the brink.
After writing it, I kept wondering, Why did I get so upset? I hadn't had such a cathartic cry in a long, long time. (And I must admit, the writing and the sharing of it was pretty cathartic, too).
I thought about it all day, but didn't really come to any conclusions. Later that evening, I had a long conversation with Grouse, though. He made me laugh (which I desperately needed), but also just talked about what had happened in that gentle, unassuming, reassuring way of his.
You know how sometimes what someone says to you will just pass you by at the time but will resurface later, long after it was said? Well, over the last few days, one of the things that he said keeps resurfacing:
"What it does tell us, though, is that you have not truly resigned your reproductive future to 'fate' or providence."
I didn't really think about it when he said it, but that observation, right there, is really the crux of it, I think. He's right. Morgan and I have let go our control in some ways, but we have not invested our trust. It is too early to worry. We need not put such tremendous pressure on our shoulders.
Those tears? Yes, they reflected some grief and sadness, but they were also heavy-laden with another emotion. Fear. Fear that we won't succeed, fear that we will be kept from our goal, but most of all I am terribly, terribly afraid of infertility. Logically, I have no need to worry, yet. Just two failed tries is far, far from proof.
So, yes, I am terribly frightened of infertility, and I think I need to wrestle with that a bit, hold that fear at bay since it is not yet worthy of so much of my energy. Fear will do me no good.
What happens now is not in our hands, no matter how determined our trying. We must do our part, love and strive and dwell in creativity. That is all we can do, come what may. It is oh so hard to let go, however. To trust. That is where I need to focus. I can't let every little bump in the road affect me so badly that I fall to pieces. Have to let go. Have to trust.
Thank you for all of your comments and concern. I'm fine. Slogging on through, keeping hope alive, learning to trust, and trying not to be so fragile.
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