This morning as he was leaving for work I offered to go shopping for a new bag, asking if he wanted the same thing or that I could look for something different. His reply:
First I have to deal with the grief and sadness, and saying farewell to this bag before I can think about moving on.
I'm not even sure it was meant jokingly.
This was more or less the lesson we took from our counselling session together.
Last Sunday we went to the library and at some point I asked if we should get some books on adoption. (Is it unfair of me to test the water that way?) We have not really spoken about adoption or other next steps. The only suggestion for a book he gave was something on getting happy again after being sad.
Maybe these are both subtle hints that it might be time to pick up my life?
February is the sixth month of me not having a job. Other people might phrase that as half a year. Makes it seem so long. Maybe I should peek outside my cocoon and start looking or a job. Maybe admit to myself that relaxing all these months didn't make any difference whatsoever. Babywise I mean. Is it weird to feel like I'm betraying myself by looking for a job? I don't have to pretend that nothing happened. Because nothing happened. I'm not making sense anymore, am I. Sorry.
Maybe getting a job means admitting I can't have a baby and that I'm over it. That I'm ok with it. But I'm not.
Mhmm, maybe I could get a job while I'm still sad. Maybe being sad can be my evening job. Maybe during the day a could be like my former self, that persnickety pestering tester lady. (thank you May) Maybe I could work with a sad smile instead of my cute smile.
Yesterday a bloggy friend of mine called. She told me her story and asked if I would put that online for her, because she couldn't. I was happy I could do something for her, that she trusted me enough to ask. While I was typing I suddenly felt like a fraud. Infertile me typing a story about contractions and cervix checks . I had to look up what a cervix was, but wiki didn't really explain why it getting shorter was a problem. And I wasn't going to google it.
Strange sensations of not belonging....
Time for fresh air and blue sky now....
I don't think asking that question at the library was unfair. It was a safe way of broaching the subject and getting things going. What was his response?
ReplyDeleteI don't have any advice about the job. The only thing I can say is that you should do what feels right to you.
Valery, I agree with Sweet Georgia - it was a natural way of bringing up a subject, with no pressure - you are exploring avenues, that's all. Nothing wrong with that.
ReplyDeleteAs for the job, BIG, immense sigh, hard to know what to do. If you are starting to think about it, maybe you are going to be ready soon? Work helps me, the people and routine, it normalises me, but for you, maybe not? I think you'll know when you're ready.
Hope the fresh air helped. Hugs for my not so far away friend.
Good on you for not googling it... Sometimes staying away from google is the smart thing to do ;-)
ReplyDeleteAnd about feeling a fraud? I'm living the whole thing for the second time and I STILL feel like a fraud. Still feel like an infertile. When I look at our children I know I'm not, not anymore, not by a "normal" person's standards. But that infertile part of me is still there, and always will be.
I hope with all my heart that you will be able to look at your child one day, genetically related or not and, like me, say: "Yes. I am infertile. I always will be. But I am also a MOTHER. This is MY CHILD!"
Thanks for the updates on my blog, thanks for being there, even though it must have been hard for you...