Here it is, the last few hours of 2015. I'm not out partying like some are, nor am I celebrating like I typically do - at my grandfather's house with family, eating gumbo and shooting fireworks. Instead, I am at home, in my sweats, on the couch with my husband, both of us reading books (err, you know, before I started writing this post). It's quiet and cozy, and fits my state of mind.
I find myself really emotional about 2015 being over.* For the past few days I have even been getting choked up about it. And when people are like "yay for 2015 being over!", I'm just like "but... no. I'm not ready for a new year." It isn't about the year 2015 specifically. There was nothing spectacular about 2015 that makes me want it to stick around.
It's more about the passing of time. In the past, I've been excited about time passing, and looking forward to a new year and all it may hold. But for some reason, maybe simply because I'm getting older, this year it makes me melancholy.
Maybe it's because it's another year of being childless. Maybe it's because I have been overwhelmed with adjusting to working long hours. Maybe I feel more adult responsibility this year than in the past few, and sometimes I just want to be a kid again. Maybe I realize that life doesn't get easier as I get older, only harder and more scary. Maybe it's because I feel complacent.
And maybe I'm afraid 2016 will be more of the same.
To be continued in tomorrow's post...
-MNM
*My husband says it's because I've been exhausted, and am just more emotional when I'm tired anyway. He's right.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Surviving This Journey Through the Holidays
The holidays can be a really rough time emotionally for those going through infertility. And I'd imagine that most infertility bloggers will be posting about how hard it is, or how to cope.
But who am I kidding - every day can be really rough emotionally. It's not only the holidays that can trigger a moment of heartbreak. I can be just fine for weeks at a time, including through the majority of the holidays, but then something random will bring me to tears.
The holidays seem to bring with them a sense of "well, I hoped last Christmas would be my last without a child"... but I honestly feel that way about pretty much all holidays, mine and my husband's birthdays, and our anniversary. I tend to think "If I got pregnant right now, I'd be a mom by my next birthday", but also on the flip side - "because I'm not pregnant yet, I know that we won't have a child by our 5th anniversary."
I was reminded over the weekend how hard this time of year is for lots of people - especially those who have lost someone dear to them, and this is the first Christmas that they have to spend seemingly alone. You see, nothing has really changed for me. In fact, it's change that I long for. I don't want next Christmas to be the same as this Christmas, because I want there to be an additional small family member to celebrate with next year. But for those who have lost someone this year, everything is different for them, and they just wish it was all the way it's always been. I look forward to starting new traditions. They want to be able to continue all the old traditions, but they're just not the same, or they choose not to do them at all. I want to make new memories. Memories are all that they have.
I guess what I'm saying is that while this journey is hard all the time, I get through it. The holidays will be hard too, but I'll make the most of them, just like I always do. I dare to say that I will even enjoy them! And I will count myself blessed that Christmas will be the same as always for me this year.
-MNM
But who am I kidding - every day can be really rough emotionally. It's not only the holidays that can trigger a moment of heartbreak. I can be just fine for weeks at a time, including through the majority of the holidays, but then something random will bring me to tears.
The holidays seem to bring with them a sense of "well, I hoped last Christmas would be my last without a child"... but I honestly feel that way about pretty much all holidays, mine and my husband's birthdays, and our anniversary. I tend to think "If I got pregnant right now, I'd be a mom by my next birthday", but also on the flip side - "because I'm not pregnant yet, I know that we won't have a child by our 5th anniversary."
I was reminded over the weekend how hard this time of year is for lots of people - especially those who have lost someone dear to them, and this is the first Christmas that they have to spend seemingly alone. You see, nothing has really changed for me. In fact, it's change that I long for. I don't want next Christmas to be the same as this Christmas, because I want there to be an additional small family member to celebrate with next year. But for those who have lost someone this year, everything is different for them, and they just wish it was all the way it's always been. I look forward to starting new traditions. They want to be able to continue all the old traditions, but they're just not the same, or they choose not to do them at all. I want to make new memories. Memories are all that they have.
I guess what I'm saying is that while this journey is hard all the time, I get through it. The holidays will be hard too, but I'll make the most of them, just like I always do. I dare to say that I will even enjoy them! And I will count myself blessed that Christmas will be the same as always for me this year.
-MNM
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
What Defines You?
Do you ever feel like your parental status (whether or not you are a parent) defines you?
Over the years I've been defined as various things, but since getting married 4 1/2 years ago, I have felt defined by my childlessness. I mean, you get married, and you have kids, right? Unless you don't. And then you're at best questioned about it, and at worst judged for it (at least in my circles). Those who are parents don't know how to relate to you, because they left those days behind. People just don't know quite how to treat you. You're not a kid, nor are you a parent. So where do you fall?
While I have felt this way a while now, it was only recently that I formed it into the complete thought of being defined by it. I was having a conversation while visiting my in-laws, and the sweet soul I was talking to was cautiously asking about my infertility. I reassured her that I don't mind talking about it. I don't avoid talking about it, but, I'm unlikely to start the conversation myself, because I don't want to be known as both the person who has no kids, and the one who talks about it all the time. I don't want it to define me. I also recently came across a post from Resolve: The National Infertility Association, that just said "I choose not to be", and my first thought was "defined by my infertility."
There is more to me than whether or not I am a parent. I am a wife, a sister, a daughter, an aunt. A friend, a co-worker, a caregiver, a teacher. I am a child of God. There are a lot of things I am, and a lot of things I'm not. It just so happens that "mother" is not one of my titles.
Please, when it comes to your friends who don't have children, remember them as one of the many things they are besides childless. Your relationship will benefit from it!
-MNM
Disclaimer: I'm sure that parents sometimes feel their own version of this. I just can't address that side of it.
Over the years I've been defined as various things, but since getting married 4 1/2 years ago, I have felt defined by my childlessness. I mean, you get married, and you have kids, right? Unless you don't. And then you're at best questioned about it, and at worst judged for it (at least in my circles). Those who are parents don't know how to relate to you, because they left those days behind. People just don't know quite how to treat you. You're not a kid, nor are you a parent. So where do you fall?
While I have felt this way a while now, it was only recently that I formed it into the complete thought of being defined by it. I was having a conversation while visiting my in-laws, and the sweet soul I was talking to was cautiously asking about my infertility. I reassured her that I don't mind talking about it. I don't avoid talking about it, but, I'm unlikely to start the conversation myself, because I don't want to be known as both the person who has no kids, and the one who talks about it all the time. I don't want it to define me. I also recently came across a post from Resolve: The National Infertility Association, that just said "I choose not to be", and my first thought was "defined by my infertility."
There is more to me than whether or not I am a parent. I am a wife, a sister, a daughter, an aunt. A friend, a co-worker, a caregiver, a teacher. I am a child of God. There are a lot of things I am, and a lot of things I'm not. It just so happens that "mother" is not one of my titles.
Please, when it comes to your friends who don't have children, remember them as one of the many things they are besides childless. Your relationship will benefit from it!
-MNM
Disclaimer: I'm sure that parents sometimes feel their own version of this. I just can't address that side of it.