Today is my 38th birthday. As in every birthday, I eagerly awaited my early morning phone call from my father. It was the classic short but sweet phone call but it was something I enjoyed. Sadly, no phone call came. It’s hard to believe he’s gone. I don’t think I’ve grieved his passing but today hit me really hard. It will be like this for every special occasion. One piece will always be missing.
I’ve taken the initiative and contacted my works extended support they offer. With all the loss I’ve had in my 38 years of life, I sure have a lot of baggage. I try so damn hard to be strong but sometimes these walls need to break down and I need help. Today I saw my GP, and had a bit of a cry. I’m frustrated and at a loss of what to do. I don’t sleep well at night, I’m up at least three times a night, my foot still hurts after seeing a specific podiatrist since October, and I’m just so emotionally exhausted.
It’s been 5 weeks of no Facebook and I feel good about it. No triggers, no constant reminders and no irritating people making 18 posts a day. Maybe one day I’ll go back, maybe not.
I start my grief counselling tomorrow and I recieved my grief package from work. One day, one session at a time I suppose.
Next week is our appointment with the fertility clinic. I’m pissed off. If my eggs weren’t good, why did I go through almost 3 rounds of ivf with two losses and nothing came of it but a traumatizing experience? I hate that my body and modern day science has failed me. I hate that basically my only option is buying eggs from a donor to possibly carry my own child. Yes, it’s only money. Yes, people will always have an opinion. And yes, ultimately only you know how much you can take.
Right now, I can’t even think about life except for minute by minute. I feel lonely, empty, angry and just so freaking exhausted.