(Warning: This might be the most self-pitying post I’ve written to date. If you’re looking for a ray of sunshine, skip this one.)
I woke up this morning at 4:45 with cramps. My period has officially started.
This is miserable. Not that this is news to most of you reading this. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t at some point experienced this particular kind of misery. It doesn’t seem to have an end point, just a recurring nightmare replayed every 28 days.
About two years ago, a friend of mine from high school had a stillbirth. It was obviously heartbreaking for her. As if that weren’t bad enough, people have said the most INANE stuff to her, like “You can always have another one,” “God must have needed another angel,” and “Everything happens for a reason.”
Everything happens for a reason. This is complete bullshit. What reason is there behind my friend losing her child? What reason is there behind my brother and his wife’s 4 miscarriages? What reason is there behind my inability to get pregnant? What reason is there for any of the shit we’re going through?
We use this phrase all the time, like when we have lost a job or are going through a divorce. These are things people say to try and put pain in context, to make it bearable. Hell, I’ve even said it to myself. But I don’t believe it anymore. There are no greater powers at work here. And if there are, they really suck at their jobs.
I used to believe in God. Not a hardcore church-goer, but I always believed that something out there “had a plan.” Sure, I had a plan, but you’d be surprised how often that plan would get completely screwed up. So it was nice to think that there was something else that saw the long game when I couldn’t.
To be honest, this whole thing has turned me into an atheist. I’m not being hyperbolic here. I remember very clearly driving down the road with terrible cramps and the sinking realization that this month was another uterine no-show. Just rounding a corner, I thought “There is no God in this.” And like that 34 years of Catholicism was gone, a direct correlation between my consistent infertility and my lose of faith.
I know what I have to do, guys. I really do. I need to pick myself up and move along. But I think I’ll pull the covers over my head a little while longer before I pretty myself up and get to work.
Every month is another shot, right?