I have been ordered by my husband (yes, he is brave and no, I did not murder him in his sleep) to cease and desist all readings of all Internet blogs regarding infertility and/or miscarriage immediately. It seems that my melancholy about the baby game has been brought on by appalling amounts of spare time on the computer looking up stuff on Google. It's true. I'm a blog junkie. Help me.
However, I don't feel the need to abandon all blogs altogether, considering how much inspiration I've found in my friends who write about their issues with fertility. I just need to let go of the ones that are so depressing I want to shoot myself. These women are desperate, and beyond reason, in some cases. 7 or 8 IVFs and/or miscarriages later, and they're still trying to convince themselves that it's going to be fine. It's hard to read, and harder to accept that this may be my fate in a year or two. I could very easily be one of these women, so encompassed by their own grief and hopelessness.
I'd like to think that I'm stronger than that, but I can't deny I've felt moments, slight flashes, nanoseconds of doubt and fear that have made me feel a connection to these would-be mothers. I admit, I'm easily drawn into someone else's nightmare. And it is a nightmare imagining seven IVFs/miscarriages. To pick up the pieces that many times and to try again is unfathomable to me.
So in a year, if I start writing blog posts that sound like a kicked puppy, please call an intervention and get me into therapy, stat.
