Warning: This post is mostly venting. It's whiny and full of complaining and sadness. Bear with me, and understand that writing is how I process things. I'm not trying to get any sympathy or be an attention-whore. I'm not trying to be comforted. I just need to put it all out somewhere.
Thanks, and sorry.
Deep down, I knew that's how things would be, and in all honesty that's probably the easiest path.
I'm struggling. A lot.
I feel worse than I did when Mr and Miss Bubbles (See my posts from about a year ago) had their baby--probably because we've been trying longer and this is my brother. My youngest brother.
I feel like a horrible person. I can't even be happy yet. I want to stomp my feet and break things and scream that this was supposed to be me. I'm ready. We're ready. BabyBrother isn't ready. That girl isn't ready.
I hate the Universe.
I hate that at the ten-year anniversary of the worst year of my life, I get to feel all these sick things and I can't even be happy for my own fucking brother. I hate that the dates are almost the same. I hate that every time I slow down long enough to think about it I break down into hysterics.
Most of all, I hate the ripped-out-heart feeling. Mostly because the truth of the matter is I know the number of babies born isn't finite. I'll have a baby someday. And I get a niece or nephew in the meantime. I want to be happy about it. And when I'm around my mom or my brother or even some of my good friends, I do feel relatively happy about it. It's the solitude, and the silence, and the fact that as I sit here I know I'm going to start my period within the next 24 hours. And, like I said, that horrible hole-in-my-chest, knife-twisty, searing hurt in my soul.
I don't want it.
And naturally, because all the other feelings aren't enough, I've felt really mad at BoyWonder, too. Some of that is the nature of the douchebaggery he pulled Wednesday night, and the rest of it is every stupid thing that never bothered me before. Things that aren't even his fault. But I'm still mad. And I still want him to be away from me. And it's not his fault. None of this is anyone's fault. And yet, I'm finding ways to take it all out on everyone else in my mind.
I'm mad he waited five years to propose. I'm mad he's never excited about anything. I'm mad he had defective testicles. I'm extra mad that he doesn't understand why I'm sad. Ever. I'm mad that he never thinks to just hold me and tell me everything will be okay. That he will make it better, even if he can't.
And none of that really is his fault. And I love him. More than anything, I love him. It's not his fault. I keep telling myself that. It doesn't help.
Just once, just one motherfucking time in my life, I'd like for something to be easy. My whole life before BoyWonder was struggling. I have an amazing, loving, close family, but we struggled through a lot together. And even the first few years of our relationship, BoyWonder and I struggled. We were young and it's hard to adjust to living with someone, and we struggled to make it as a couple. But the last few years have been pretty good.
So is this my payback for having a comfortable life? More hardship and hurt? It hardly seems fair. (Insert 'life isn't fair,' here)
I was just starting to be okay with our TTC struggles. Well, not okay, really, but I accepted them for what they were and was ready to start again once we get the final test results back in August. Now I want to give up. I'm tired of being disappointed. I'm terrified that the first time I see my new niece or nephew I'm going to bawl uncontrollably and ruin a perfect moment. What should be a happy moment. If I'm not pregnant by then, I don't know if I'll even be able to see the new baby. I hate that.
I'm sad for BabyBrother, too. I'm sad that he's not in a position right now to be excited. I'm sad that he was just starting to get his life on track and now he has to readjust to something so huge. Something that, five or ten years from now, he would be able to be relaxed and happy about. Not that a baby is ever a bad thing, but it's not that amazing if you're still learning to be an adult, if you're still living on a shoestring budget just taking care of yourself.
I'll get over this, eventually. I hope.
Maybe the Universe will be kind, and BoyWonder's numbers will be phenomenal when we go back to the urologist. Maybe my body will cooperate at some point, too. Maybe NewBaby will just be here a few months before s/he has a cousin. Maybe things will start to get easier. My back can heal. My heart can heal. And my pride, too.
I suppose I should be hoping for a speedy recovery.
Cookies for anyone who actually read all this whiny drivel... (Well, I'll bring cookies next time. I'm actually considering a lortab, a root beer with vanilla rum, and a nap. And yes, it is only 10:30 AM)
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