Connections and Frustrations

Today, I'll start with the good.

For the first time in a very long time, I'm starting to feel connected to people outside my very small, very tight-knit group of favorite people. It's weird because this consists mostly of listening/reading, and then responding with my completely unsolicited, barely-educated advice.

But I'm reaching out. I don't know what I'm reaching for yet, but I have a feeling that these connections will be important soon. I don't know why I even feel that way. But it's a nice, fuzzy warm feeling, so I'm going to go with it.

I think part of this is because I'm struggling.

Have I posted yet about my stepbrother? He and his wife are expecting their fourth child. Their EDD is two days after what should have been mine.

And my very best friend is pregnant. And she's terrified. I'm doing my very best to help, to be a good friend, but it's so hard when I want so desperately to be in her shoes. When I feel so strongly that she should just be grateful. But I know I'll panic when it's finally my turn, so I'm listening. I'm supporting. I'm sending her happy vibes every time I think about it. I'm clinging to the thought that maybe one of these clomid cycles will work and we can be pregnant and freaking out together.

I want to tell her I think she's probably the luckiest woman on the planet, in some aspects.

Some background:

She and I have been friends since the fifth grade. We have been grounded together for our mischief over and over. Every adventure ended in grounding or punishment of some time--we were wild children. I'm not proud of it. But she (and another friend I'll be getting to in the next few posts, probably), was the closest thing I ever had to a sister.

She was like me, but different. She's the ballsiest girl I know. Seriously. If you do something she doesn't like or doesn't approve of, you will face her wrath. But for the entire time I've known her, she's been attracted to... well... abusive bastards, is what I want to say, but that isn't the case now.

Her high school sweetheart was psychologically and emotionally abusive. And really controlling. He told her to quit taking birth control. For some reason I still don't understand, she actually did it. Instead of taking my advice and just lying to him. They were together for a long, long time (well, for teenagers, I mean). Miraculously, she never got pregnant.

Fast forward to the summer I met BoyWonder. Actually, the same night I met him.

My friend and I (we're going to start calling her N so I don't confuse people) were going to a get-together for the fourth of July. This is where she met The Bastard.

We liked him at first. Well, she 'loved' him. I think in all honesty it was probably just really good sex, because The Bastard wasn't anywhere near as intelligent as N is, and he wasn't that nice. Or funny. Or really anything redeeming. And honestly, being around him gave me a slick, oily feeling in my gut. I was nice though, for my friend.

 A month into their relationship, he threw away her birth control pills while she was at work. And when she got home and dug them out of the trash, he yelled at her and told her she didn't need them. Because they were going to be together forever, and she was going to have his babies.

Again, I told her to lie. Take her pills. For the love of all that is holy, you've only been together for a month. Take your birth control or make him fucking move out of YOUR apartment. He's trying to trap you.

But she was in love. She didn't run. And she stopped taking her pills.

A few months later I started noticing things that made me sick. BoyWonder worked second shift back then, and he and I had an apartment in the same tiny complex where N and The Bastard were. I spent a lot of evenings with them because in a town of 150 people, there really aren't that many options. I would be over there, and we would be playing cards or making dinner or watching a movie, and I'd notice him holding a lit cigarette an inch or two away from the back of her arm, so if she moved wrong it would burn her. Or I'd go over there, because we would have plans of one kind or another, and she wouldn't answer the door. (I later found out that it was because he didn't want her hanging out with me. I was a bad influence.)

He cheated on her. She threw him out. It lasted for maybe a week.

Some time after all that, he started doing meth. Just every once in a while, but still. N's parents were addicts when we were kids. I mean, bad, drug dealing, child-neglecting, attempting-suicide-rather-than-get-busted meth addicts. She knew how bad it could get. She knew she was probably predisposed to get hooked.

But she loved him. So she started doing it, too.

BoyWonder and I moved. N and The Bastard moved, too. To a town close to here that's just crawling with speed freaks. We kind of lost touch. I knew what was going on and it made me sad to see it. I knew he was hurting her, but she wouldn't talk about it--couldn't talk about it, because he was always around. I knew she was doing speed, but she wouldn't talk about it--she knew I would never understand. I wanted to help her. It really wasn't possible, though. I kept my distance, because even though I was still fairly young, I was still easily persuaded to try new, fun things, and I had a more dangerously addictive personality than N or our other friend, who at this point was living with N and The Bastard and had also picked up the habit.

I started to just avoid them, because I didn't know what else to do.

And N was still off her birth control.

For a few years, I only saw her a handful of times. I worried about her. I thought about her daily. Hoping she was alright. Praying she didn't get pregnant. Pleading with the Universe to please, please protect my friend, since she wouldn't protect herself.

It was a dark time for both of my friends.

I think it's been four years now, since she finally got rid of The Bastard. I don't remember the details of how it finally happened, or why. I remember her coming to see me and my feeling of overwhelming relief that she was okay.

And life got better.

She met an amazing man. They were married last May. I cried tears of joy for my friend who, for so long, I was convinced would either die of an overdose or a bad beating.

We've been spending more time together, because she has a husband who loves her and wants her to have friends. So we've had a chance to talk about having kids and the possibility of never having kids.

She wasn't even sure she wanted them, and after all those years of not taking birth control, and never getting pregnant, she genuinely believed she couldn't. Which is why she never bothered to use any in this relationship, either.

So all this time, we've been talking about my PCOS and struggles with MFI and all the testing involved, so she would know what to expect should she ever decide to find out why she hasn't gotten pregnant... I don't think it was infertility. This is one of the very few times I can say that the Universe was protecting her. Protecting her babies.


This is what upsets me about infertility. Even after I tell this long, sad story about my friend with her hard life, my friend who I love like a sister, I still cried for twenty minutes at work when she texted me to tell me she's pregnant.

And then I cried and punched my steering wheel about a hundred times on my way home from work.

Even though I'm happy for her. Almost as happy as I will be when I finally see two lines that are actually going to stick around. I'm still sad. Still angry that it's not my turn yet. I know it will be. I know it's coming up soon. Hell, for all I know it could be happening right now, and it's just too early to tell.

But that doesn't make it easier. It doesn't make it less frustrating. It doesn't take away the pain.

But what can I do? All that's left for me is to take care of myself, love my friends and my neighbors, and just keep moving. Just keep moving. Just keep moving.