Of course I was wondering if that let's-have-kids conversation was spurned more from a vacation high rather than reality, but once we got home we were still on that high so the baby making began. Whoa, sheesh Emily, TMI. Fast forward to today. We're now thirteen months into that initial excitement of baby making. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I still have a glass or four in my hand in most pictures. That's not a cover--there's no Weiss baby hanging out inside of me, so I'm still allowed to have that glass of wine hanging out in my hand.
I wasn't going to write about this topic because the thought of sharing it so publicly feels like A) we want people to read this and go, Awwww no, poor Weisses! or B) I was just another twenty-first century human, oversharing on the internet. Let's not all pretend like we don't live for the vague, yet oversharing Facebook posts though. You see, I'm not writing out this because we want sympathy. Sympathy is the last thing we want. Sympathy makes me feel like something is wrong with us, and the sympathizing person knows it and we don't know it. I don't think I'm strong enough yet for that. I'm also not writing out this because I'm interested in oversharing our lives. There are a lot of emotions to this story that I could never even begin to share. I even asked Freddie if he was okay with me hitting publish on this post because sharing this seems like sharing a very private part of our lives that isn't supposed to be shared.
But I want to share this struggle in case this story is able to be the realistic support to someone. Because in times when I have felt like something bigger is going on with me and Freddie and that I couldn't possibly dig myself out of a dark hole, I haven't found very many places to which to turn. When I turn to the people who have had little-to-no issues conceiving, they're so wonderful and sweet, but they don't really understand. When I turn to the internet, I mostly only find stories of this timeline happening when there is something bigger going on. When I turn to friends who have gone through years, sometimes a decade, of trouble conceiving, it's hard for my mind not to go to a place of worry that Freddie and I are about to embark into many more years of this, and that's scary. I say all of this really just to say that I know there is at least one person out there also struggling feeling like this. Like there's no place, with no real story, to turn. Maybe you're feeling like you're not allowed to struggle with something, and not allowed to worry. Maybe you feel like you could control your feelings if only this one thing would work out. Maybe you feel like you don't understand anything. I am right there with you. I have felt all of the feelings this past year, and I am still going through all of these feelings almost every single day. I am learning how to rely less on others to pull me out of that dark hole, and instead use my own tools to pull out myself. Some days I'm really good at using my own tools, other days I cry in public in front of strangers. Sharing part of my struggle is for you, and it's also for me.
I've spent the last several months struggling. Big time. In fact you probably read about it here when I wrote about how I couldn't stop crying. I wrote about how I found myself questioning everything. Seriously, everything. (Everything except my Ricky Rick, duh). You see, I've always felt like my purpose here on Earth was to be a mom. And no, it hasn't been because I'm a woman and other than being in the kitchen, being a mom is the only other thing I'm good for---right?! Gag. Me. My purpose came from the fact that I think kids are the greatest. Hands-down, any day I would rather be in a room full of kids than a room full of adults. I've taught kids, I've nannied, I think my sister Ann is still five-years old---I just found my niche with kids, and I've known being a mom would be something at which I'd be good. When you think you've found your purpose on Earth you don't often stop to think, but what if that isn't my purpose on Earth right now...
There's this yoga class I've started to take on Fridays. It's kind of the highlight of my week. By kind of, I mean it is without a doubt the highlight of my week. At the end of class the instructor reads a quote/some words/a proverb/something for you to take with you into the post-yoga class world. Every single week that I've taken the class, these words have eerily lined up with things I am needing to hear and pound into my soul that particular day or week. It's gotten to the point where the more frequently this keeps happening, the more frequently I find myself leaving the studio on Fridays going, Okay God and Universe, I hear ya loud and clear. This past Friday's words were no different:
Do not worry that your life is turning upside down. How do you know the side you are used to is better than the one to come? -Rumi
When speaking with my doctor last week, I said something that I now realize is utter and complete bull you-know-what. After giving her our spiel of the past year she stopped me and asked, "Okay, but how are you doing?" I responded with my gut response which was that I'm miserable. I'm sad all of the time, and that I've never felt as lonely as I have this past year.
But you know what? My gut response to that question is bullshit (there I said it!). It's total and complete crap! I am sad, miserably sad. I do have a lot of days in which I feel extremely lonely through this, but that's not the complete truth. The complete truth is that I'm finding that by my life turning upside down this year (I realize how dramatic that statement sounds), that this new upside down side is much better. (side note: we're all on the same page that by saying upside down we're all thinking of Stranger Things, yes? Yes. Cool, moving on).
So you win, God and Universe. Freddie and I are becoming stronger because of this. We are becoming more mindful because of this. We are becoming more well-rounded human beings because of this. We have had so many emotional conversations that we would have never had if this wasn't happening to us. And I wouldn't trade that aspect of this past year's sadness for anything. I wouldn't trade the heartfelt conversations while standing in the kitchen. I wouldn't trade the time we've taken to look at our lives and figure out how to better our lives. I wouldn't trade the tears, the hugs, the support, the holding of each other. I'm trying to cherish my time, cherish this life I've been given, and maybe dare I say this, but cherish the struggle a little bit more. We are so completely different than the Freddie and Emily last year who sat down at that Venice bar and talked about Freddie and Emily as parents, but I think we're better than that Freddie and Emily.
And lonely? That's my own issue. Just as I stated in my last therapeutic blog post, I have the greatest people in my life. Friends and family members who are also struggling with their own things, but somehow manage to show up for me and show up for Freddie. Friends who listen even though they might not understand. Friends who watch me cry or cry with me even though crying makes some people so uncomfortable (i.e.: Emily 1989-2017).
So ::insert small screams:: here I am sharing a snippet of our lives and our struggles because being vulnerable brings much more happiness to my life, and that happiness overtakes the suffering. I'm not anyone from whom you should take advice, but! But but but! I will say that every now and then if you'll just let yourself be a tiny bit vulnerable, I promise you're going to get so much in return. We have people are our lives for a reason, and that reason isn't just to say How are you? Good? Good. and move on. We have people in our lives because we're meant to hold up each other, push each other along, and just laugh. Because if we aren't having at least a little bit of fun then what's the point of it all?
*I'm hitting publish on this after several weeks of writing it. Hitting publish today because today feels like a good day. Not every day feels so good, and that's okay. Give. Yourself. Grace. In the wise words of one of my best friends, accept that some days you'll feel shitty and embrace it.