Monthly Archives: August 2012

The Fear That Underpins it All

I’m getting clucky.  Really clucky.

And that can only be a bad thing because, for a number of reasons, there’s no way we are going to be trying to conceive any time soon.

And that makes me sad.  Sad in a way that reminds me so strongly of how I felt when we were trying to get pregnant the first time around.

When we were TTCing, I didn’t get angry.  Or jealous.  Or frustrated.  I know I’m in a vanishingly small minority among IFers, but I used to love seeing babies and pregnant bellies; I wanted to hear people’s stories about pregnancy, birth, and parenting.  It gave me hope; I think in a way it enabled me to live vicariously through other people’s experiences.  So no, I never felt angry or jealous.

But I did feel sad.  Sad down to the core of my being.  And I really don’t want to feel that again.

There are so many anxieties that fuel this sadness.  How on earth am I going to take time out of my very demanding, very inflexible career to have a baby?  How will we support two children if I do take time off?  When will my husband be ready to embrace the idea of having another child?  Worse yet, what if he never wants another?  When will there be time for the third child I already know I want?

And behind it all, there is the other.  That base fear that underpins it all.  What if there is no second child?  What if this time the treatments don’t work?  What if I wait too long?

What if I miss my chance?



Filed under Baby Making, Round 2, Fear, Infertility

On how it feels to miss my son.

I like my job. My coworkers are (for the most part) pretty nice people. I enjoy what I do. It’s stressful, but satisfying.

But damn I wish I didn’t have to do it for 50+ hours a week. Because spending that much time away from my wee man feels pretty rotten.

Some days I find myself thinking about him constantly. Wondering what he’s doing, I find my hand creeping towards the phone just so I can hear about how much he ate for lunch or how long he napped.

Because when I’m away from him I feel like part of me is missing. I feel like the best part of me is missing.


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Filed under Working Mother