Sunday, October 26, 2008


The title of this post just about sums it all up. I am unhappy. Not happy. Happy no more.

Today, I watched a bunch of soldier tributes on YouTube. Don't ask me why - I have no idea. Sometimes I just feel the need to connect with something outside of this little bubble of sorrow that I live in. To look outside and say, you know what - there are much, much bigger issues and problems out there.
So I watched these heart-wrenching tributes, reunions and so on...Crying as you saw soldiers walking through and airport and people standing up clapping. And then, suddenly, I realized something else: all of these people had one thing in common - aside from the uniforms, the tear-stained faces of joy as a loved one returned to safety: kids. Lots and lots and lots of kids. Proudly waving flags, sleeping in strollers, hugging a returning parent.

And so I cried some more.

I'm almost getting to the point where I feel like I should just give up. I feel like I'm dealing with this by myself - like Kenton doesn't even GET IT. I mean - I know this is going to sound so incredibly horrible: but how come he doesn't feel guilty? How come he doesn't feel BAD?

I know - I sound like the world's most selfish, petty and horrible wife every to (dis)grace the face of the earth. But I just keep thinking - if I were the one with the problem, I would feel so horrible, like I'd somehow let us down. I'd try to find some answers, talk to doctors, do whatever it takes to sort this out.
Not Kenton. He's so absorbed with the day in, day out of work, it's like this whole thing isn't even real.

I go between being angry as hell at him and being angry as hell at myself. Because, the embarrassing and sad truth is that, sometimes, in the dark hours when I feel most insecure and cheated - I wonder if I made a mistake in marrying him.

There, I've said it. Or, rather, typed it. Now, of course, I feel like the biggest bitch EVER. Kenton is, in so many ways, my soul mate - if there is such a thing. He is so much like me in many important ways, and complements me in others. Yet...there's this nagging thing in the back of my head that keeps saying, maybe this wouldn't have happened with someone else.

Of course this is all piggy-backing on some other issues in our marriage, but that's not within the ambit of my blog. So, all in all, I'm basically living in this inner sanctum of absolutely unadulterated HELL - going between thinking that I could never love anyone else the way I love Kenton; and wondering if I need to seriously, clinically, analyze my situation and my options.

So I feel like my heart is breaking all the time. I mean, I just about have gotten to the point where I don't feel like I might be violently sick at the mere sight of yet another big, proud pregnant belly or a peacefully sleeping infant. But I feel so, so lonely. I feel OLD. I feel useless.

I feel so, so, so UNHAPPY.


Anonymous said...

Hang in there sweetie. I know it's a tough place to be. You're not alone though. I've learned that guys are a hell of a lot different when it comes to dealing with this. My husband goes through day to day things, but I know us not being able to have children is on his mind, even if he doesn't show it the way I think he should. I hope your husband picks up on your moods like mine does with me and finds a way to cheer you up the best he can.

Hugs and prayers,


Erin said...

I'm sorry to see you are so blue. I'm right here beside you.

The soldier tributes kill me, too. I know the exact one when the soldiers walk through the airport to find a clapping crowd of spectators. (It was originally a Budweiser Superbowl commercial, if I recall correctly.) Sometimes we need to realize that, as shitty as our lives are, there ARE worse fates than infertility. Tough to believe, but true. We could have cancer. We could be homeless. And although they drive us insane most days, we have loving husbands.

About Kenton's seeming indifference: I am willing to bet he is dying inside. Our infertility come from me (high FSH, POF) and the guilt has eaten me alive. I wish he had been the problem, so then I could feel less sad. I feel like I have destroyed my husband's life. I've even encouraged him to leave me. Although he does not say it, I am almost positive that your situation makes me sick. Men are strange. Having to accept his infertility must be devastating to his "maleness". I am not saying he has the right to be indifferent; I'm just saying he is probably paralyzed with guilt but can't verbalize it. I know I am paralyze by guilt, but, being a woman, I verbalize it all the time!

None of this makes you feel better, I know. Just want you to know that you are not alone in your sorrow. Since Friday night, I have cried five times ... and I'm on Zoloft! Even the meds can't cheer me entirely.

Here for you, every day. Keep venting!


Courtney said...

I know it is hard. Keep your chin up! The best things in life are those worth waiting for!

Teresa said...

Oh my gosh do I ever understand this unhappiness. I'm so sorry! You're not alone. I hope you feel better soon. :)