I CAN ALMOST SEE IT, THAT DREAM I’M DREAMING
BUT THERE’S A VOICE INSIDE MY HEAD SAYING
“YOU’LL NEVER REACH IT”
EVERY STEP I’M TAKING, EVERY MOVE I MAKE
FEELS LOST WITH NO DIRECTION, MY FAITH IS SHAKEN
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During February’s ICLW, I was introduced to a new blog (A View On My Life). On her blog, Rebecca had posted the video for a new song called “The Climb.” The lyrics of the song completely resonated with me. So much so, that I didn’t give a damn that it was being sung by Miley Cyrus. I’ve become slightly obsessed with the song since first hearing it. Today, the lyrics are especially piercing.
When I got up yesterday, the breast tenderness that has plagued me since shortly after the IUI was gone. The change was so drastic from the way they’d felt when I went to bed on Friday that it was almost as if it had never been there, and I found myself questioning whether I’d been imagining it all along. I knew then that any sense of hope was over. I wasn’t ready to admit it, but I felt it right down at the very core of my being.
And still, when the spotting started, I was slightly taken aback. I did a little research on implantation bleeding. I wanted so desperately to give myself something to hold onto…some other possible explanation. But my attempts at hope for this cycle had passed. No matter what I tried to tell myself, I knew that this was something else, something worse. Something that meant the end to all of the hope we’ve been clinging to for this cycle.
I expected to cry, but somehow I couldn’t. Yes, I even tried to force on the tears. I felt like I needed to rid myself of the emotions that have been tied to this cycle, but the tears wouldn’t come. Instead, I stewed on it…getting more and more angry as the minutes ticked by.
I feel so stupid. I knew…KNEW…that this cycle wasn’t going to work. Haven’t I been saying that all along? So how is it that I allowed myself to get so lost in the fantasy of it all? I’d calculated due dates (November 15…the day before my own birthday). I dreamed about the holidays being transformed this year, as our family gathered to celebrate the first Thanksgiving and Christmas for our new addition. I browsed online stores, looking for the perfect items to purchase for our little miracle. Why? WHY? All along I knew that there wasn’t going to be a miracle, at least not this time. So why wasn’t I able to get control over my imagination? To stop the cozy warm thoughts that would later make this all seem even more cold and harsh?
I woke this morning to find that the spotting has progressed to a heavier flow. And with that, the tears finally came. I feel so very, very sad. As if I’m mourning. Grieving the loss of something that was never mine to lose. And now I find that I wish the tears would stop…that it wouldn’t hurt this damn badly…that I was stronger, more capable of dealing with this…that my husband wouldn’t have to watch me slowly fall apart.