Anxiety

It's a horrible feeling. You are drowning in your own thoughts. Your fears get the best of you. You start questioning yourself with every breath you take. At the same time your breath becomes shorter and more labored. Yep, you are experiencing a freaking panic attack. Throughout my life I have been acquainted with anxiety. Nothing serious but noticeable enough to keep it in check with the occasional meds. Unfortunately this infertility roller coaster has brought up the worst out of my once controlled anxiety.

Infertility seems to be so much about loss, no? Loss of control, loss of the opportunity to get pregnant each month the "natural way", the loss of experiencing the joy you see in expecting mothers. And in many cases pregnancy loss. Sometimes it's like you are in a constant mourning state.

After experiencing my last miscarriage those feelings of loss were heightened. It became more tangible. I was able to feel that smidge of joy I so many times envied. But it was all taken so forcefully from me. I remember waiting in the doctors office after the suspected ectopic pregnancy was confirmed- everything was so matter of fact. They explained to me the next step which was the dreaded methotrexate shot. Shock was an understatement. Was I doing this? Was I putting an end to this myself? Even tough I knew the pregnancy wasn't viable, in those moments all reason goes out the window. There were two lines in the HPT, I saw them. I had the cravings, the morning sickness- now they were telling me that it had to be terminated for my safety? I was living my worst nightmare. It seemed like a cruel joke.

I became a robot in the days waiting for it to be over. Just going trough the motions was enough to convince the people around me that everything was OK, when in reality I was falling apart inside. Once the bleeding had stopped it was as if the mental barrier I had put up to separate myself from what was happening came crashing down. A spiral of pity, sadness and panic awaited me. What if this was it? What if I wasn't meant to be a mom? What if.... what if? The uncertainty and pain clouded all my rational thoughts. The nights were particularly bad. There, without anything to occupy my mind with I was left alone with my racing thoughts. Even though I had all the support from A and my family, it wasn't enough. Nobody could feel my physical loss, the emptiness. I was alone.

It's been almost four months since then. Everyday is a struggle to keep the memories at bay. It's still hard to think about where I would have been if the pregnancy hadn't ended. My world would consist of buying baby stuff... planning for the birth. Occasionally I catch a glimpse of my body in the mirror and imagine how the growing belly would've looked like. It's still hard, but I can manage. The anxiety isn't so bad these days. I sought help, and slowly started picking up the pieces.

We women facing this treacherous road are strong... so strong. Maybe we don't realize it until it's happening, but the strength and will power it's always there. If it weren't for it we wouldn't be able to go trough it all, time and time again, hoping for our silver lining. May that strength hold us all up trough our journeys.