Ahh, I was reading through my past writing (yes, I love re-reading my own words, am v narcissistic like that) when I came across this one, written before we were married.
I still remember that day well: I was literally sick to my stomach and miserable as hell. I mean, I was puking my guts out the entire night and day! As I slept the day away, he sat quietly at the foot of my bed, doing the geeky things that he is wont to do. Although really, he could be surfing pr0n for all I know. (Kidding! Love you, darling husband of mine) But it doesn’t matter, it felt really good knowing that someone has got my back covered.
This may not be the worst “worse” that we will encounter in our future but right now, his unflinching support while I’m bent over the loo takes the cake.
I wrote that at the end of the post and reading that now, I am sitting here shaking my head at how accurate I was. Really, an upset stomach has nothing on this infertility shit. NOTHING. As in the infertility shit would deliver a killer suckerpunch to an upset stomach in, oh, a milisecond.
I remember reading this study (it’s my Type A personality emerging, I started reading up on IVF as soon as I realised we might be there. That’s also when I received my PhD in Googling). Anyway, back to the study. Apparently, the study results showed that women plagued with infertility show the same stress levels as those battling cancer and HIV. And I thought, NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.
It’s been tough, really really tough. Some days, I don’t want to be around people because I feel like I am existing in a void which nobody can understand. The anxiety, the intense sadness, the money woes, the pain…it’s like the world is spinning and I am left standing there alone.
But I am not. He’s there with me. Sometimes, he can be an arsehole. But then again, he makes me laugh like nobody else can and he picks up after my slack when I feel down in the dumps. In the past few months, he’s really bucked up and done good.
So yes, these times are hard. But we are not giving up on each other.