One week down. 

As someone who struggles with depression, I often have to focus on how far removed I am from my trigger incident to move forward. It’s a coping mechanism I’ve had in place since I was a teenager to remind me that I can move forward.

I work for a large company where we have our own campus. During the workday I spent 99 percent of my time in one building. In the last week I’ve encountered seven new pregnant women. This is in addition to the handful I’d already seen in the cafe or milling about in the hallways. I can’t escape them as I’m slowing expelling my hopes and dreams onto a maxi pad. I’ve heard all of the “it’s in the water” jokes. Trust me, it’s not.

Sorry if that maxi pad bit was too morbid. I’m feeling a touch filter-less.

Emotionally I’m all over the place. My mood turns on a dime. I remind myself that it’s okay to be upset; not only am I grieving another loss, but I’m also facing an enormous decision about what comes next. I spend a lot of time feeling lost. A lot of time feeling jealous of every mom or dad who posted a first day of school photo on Facebook or Instagram. For as much as I want to believe I’ll make that same post someday, the reality is that I may not. And someday isn’t now. Or tomorrow. Or even next year.

I’ve had so much support in the last week that I should be bursting with gratitude. And I am. I am incredibly grateful for the well wishes and the amen, sistas. You all completely understand these feelings. This insane emotional rollercoaster that you both desperately want to get off and are too afraid to leave behind.



Keeping resentment in check

One of the things that I’m certain all wanna be/future mamas struggle with is resentment, particularly while trying to conceive. It has been a real challenge for me to keep in check. Each time I hear of someone who is pregnant, or whose partner is pregnant, my brain asks¬†why not you? I often hate that that is where my mind goes, but there seems to be little I can do to stop it. Even if I am happy for the person — and I almost always am — it is just what happens.

I may not be able to change my first thoughts upon hearing this news, but I can control my visible reaction and response. In the last few weeks especially, I’ve expressed my disappointment in it not being me to my husband many times after many, many baby announcements. I (probably wrongly) assume that it was easy for them to conceive. They may have gone through the exact same thing that I am. But I always manage to tell myself that they were lucky or blessed. Two things I hardly feel describe me or my situation. They’ll probably glow and look like they just swallowed a basketball at 38 weeks, too.

Of course I have no ill will towards these women, and I sincerely hope that they have healthy pregnancies. I wish I had an easier time feeling the positives. I know my time will come. I just want it to be right now.