Round and Round we go

I’ve become someone I loathe.  I’ve become my own situation.  I’ve let this journey of grief overcome me.  I feel done.  Heartbroken.  Tired.  Bored.  Sad.  Longing for my naivety, remembering how it felt to have hopes of a summer baby as soon as we started this journey.  Recalling those first joyful tears I cried in my shower after my very first positive pregnancy test – saying to the universe “thank you, thank you so much” thinking that my heart may heal and we could feel love again after the life changing traumatic loss of my father that I had recently encountered.  Now wishing I didn’t have to know these feelings, this situation.  Each negative pregnancy test is getting harder and harder to handle.  I’ve had two early morning panics in the last 10 days, plus a general low about what has happened and what lies ahead.  I panic when I think that in over 2 years of trying, we haven’t made progress- in fact, I’m worse off now than I was before.  I’m 3 babies down, but the thing that is worrying me even more is now being one tube down.  So my mathematical equation looks like this today:  2 years older + 1 tube down + increased stress, anxiety and awareness = panic, panic, panic.  Failure.  It is groundhog day.  Not just the repeated pregnancy losses taking us both back to the start, again and again.  Not even the fact that I woke up in the very same bed after my second ERPC – deja vu.  It is that each month, we are going round and round and round this hamster wheel.  Tracking on the app, testing in the morning, trying when we can, hoping as much as we can until….hopes dashed, hearts broken, questions raised.  IVF is scaring me.  I know it is our next step.   I know it is all working towards our end goal.  But, taking hormones has never been my “thing”.  I don’t feel happy about overloading my body with drugs, injections, hormones.  Whilst they thought my increased level of thyroid antibodies was a problem I was prescribed Levothyroxine; even the tiniest dose and my skin flared up.  I may be feeling pain inside, but I don’t want to be dealing with reactive acne skin on the outside too.  Learning to look at my ectopic scars without them triggering my emotions each day is enough.  Then, this job.  My career.  What career? It’s nothing to me.  It was meant to be a short term stability fix after my dad died and life crumbled around me.  Our wedding was so fabulous – let me hold on to that for one moment….and breathe….except you weren’t there Daddy, and we must have both dreamt of holding our baby by now, not knowing this path was ahead.   Stuck in my job, hoping to cash in on my 6 months full pay maternity at some stage, which believe me, I have earned.  There’s no escape.  “How’s work going?” you ask – “oh, it’s the dream” I think to myself… “it’s just where I saw myself right now”.  Round and round we go.  Someone tell me this journey is going somewhere.  I’m beginning to go mad.

Round and round we go.  Someone tell me this journey is going somewhere.

I’m beginning to go mad.

Round and round we go.  Someone tell me this journey is going somewhere.

I’m beginning to go mad.

Round and round we go.  Someone tell me this journey is going somewhere.

I’m beginning to go mad.

Round and round we go.  Someone tell me this journey is going somewhere.

I’m beginning to go mad.

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