It's too much.
A few weeks ago, I went to this life coaching group session and I actually said the words out loud: I can't have babies. Not without heroic effort. And enormous risk.
Every once in a while, I say out loud to myself. Perhaps I'm trying to get used to the idea.
We are likely done trying. I don't know what comes next.
I don't remember if I posted about this, but a few weeks ago I asked my brother if he was reading the blog. I had asked him to stop last year. I noticed hits from his workplace and hometown around the time he told me SIL was pg. He said, No, he wasn't reading. I asked him why the hits from work? He said he didn't know. Those hits miraculously stopped around the time I confronted him. Liar.
I sent him a bitchy email judging him for taking a "babymoon" to Mexico when he was bitching about being broke. I told him I resented his complaining about losing vaca time to support me and them using another week for this babymoon when he could be using it to be home when his newborn comes.
He's back from his babymoon and sending me resentful email at 1:20 am. I didn't read it, but apologized for the bitchiness. I told him I'd stay out of his business but he'd better appreciate what he's got.
I scanned the email. Can't believe I was even arguing with him. No sense.
And my sister recently recounted a tale of woe surrounding some dinner party and catering hassle she had to deal with.
Sorry, folks. I just helped my oldest friend bury her mother and I have just come to the realization that I will probably never conceive or even carry any children we might be lucky enough to raise.
I am in the process of giving up on my body for reproduction. I turn 40 in a month. In the family self-pity Olympics? I fucking win.
I have therapy tomorrow for the first time in a few weeks. I'm sure she's going to tell me I'd better get my shit together (school work, relationships) before I lose all of it, and end up with nothing but a mountain of debt.
Or maybe that's the couple's counselor. 'Cause, you know, panic makes me so productive. Time to kick some therapist butt.
2:43 am. Time for some ambien, I guess. At least.