Overly sensitive.

Just checking in, once again. My situation remains the same. It’s official, I’m ready to give up. Nothing has worked in our favour, whether it be adoption or infertility. We have been broken by both. Summer is here and so are the baby bumps. Everywhere I go, they follow me. It’s so terribly hard. I almost want to hide inside so I don’t see it. It would make me feel better. I put on a happy face when I have to. These are my ways of coping.

It will be a year in a couple weeks that I flew down to California to meet ladies dealing with infertility. We had a great time bonding and discussing the struggles we all face. As of today, only two of us are still struggling. Some are moms already and the rest are baking their little beans. Our friendships have changed as well. It’s tough when you are still struggling and that struggle isn’t a common thread that is still talked about when you have reached your goal. I feel more “alone” now than ever. Sad reality, things change.

On another note, my dad is still battling AML. He has a 30% chance of surviving this ugly disease. He’s made a restaurant bucket list, it’s quite funny. He’s checking off his mental list of foods he wants to enjoy. Today it was fish and chips with a whole bunch of malt vinegar, I’m guessing. I got the love for malt vinegar from him.

He came back from a nasty infection that almost took his life. It was so difficult to see your father thin and wanting to give up. I’m glad he pushed through the infection and finally recieved the antibiotics that would treat him. He’s been home for a couple weeks and he’s soon to be on another round of chemo. They say he can only do so many rounds then they will only give him meds to be comfortable and live out his days at home. I dread the day that this happens. I was hoping to have a child before he is no longer with us. But now I’m not confident. Hopefully the man upstairs cuts us some slack because we really need it and we need him.

Adoption was supposed to be a great alternative to natural children. We started this journey the same time as our infertility journey. Ultimately it’s lead us to heartache. Proposed children, last minute change of plans, and oops, sorry, they were placed in another home. Frustration and anger are a few of the emotions I possess. I think our system is flawed and we are now advocating to find a full time worker who is always working and can see any profiles that come across his/her screen. Do I hope this will help us? Maybe. It’s worth a chance. Something good is bound to happen, I’m sick of all the shitty things.

My life is consumed with thoughts. Every day, all the freaking time. Since my ankle and feet are a bit buggered right now, I can’t hike. And that was my outlet. So for now, I camp. Not quite the same but it’s being in nature and enjoying the fresh air. And for Vancouver right now with all the forest fire smoke lingering into our city, it’s hard to find.


6 thoughts on “Overly sensitive.

  1. Oh man, this all sounds so familiar. For us it was my husband’s mom who had cancer… we started trying when she was diagnosed and went to IVF when she slipped out of remission. Such a double (triple?) whammy of sh*t for you guys. I understand too about just wanting to hole up inside. I’ve always been a bit of an introvert, but the whole infertility thing has made me downright reclusive. Keep trying for what you want. (And we’re starting to look at adoption too – so overwhelming.)

  2. I hate that you’re going this. The heartache of infertility is crippling and I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with so much disappointment and challenges with treatment, adoption and changing friendships. I’m also really sorry to hear about your dad. You sound like you’re very close with him. The restaurant bucket list sounds awesome, btw. My mouth got watery thinking about the fish and chips with malt vinegar, lol. Do you have an email address where I can reach you? Maybe we could get together for coffee or lunch sometime? I think we’re both patients at Olive and I’m not sure where you live but I’m out in Surrey. This journey is hard enough as it is, please know you’re not alone.

  3. shit. Sorry things are so stuck. And sorry is really the least adequate word for it, to be honest. You don’t deserve this. You’re a good person and you will make a great parent. This journey is so cruel and random. My thoughts are with you. Hugs.

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