It gets easier. RIght??

Hubby is the most amazing and supportive man I have ever known. I must have done something right to have him in my life. We have been talking a lot about the way I have been feeling, not just now, but over the last few years really. Talking about it doesn’t seem to make it go away though unfortuantely, but at least I can feel that he is trying to understand what I need. In fact voicing the insecurities seems to make them more concrete than ever – it forces you to formulate your thoughts into some sort of order that is cohesive enough for someone else to understand. Last night we talked for hours, largely about how indadequate I am feeling at the moment. Hubby is worried about me, I can tell, and I am getting the impression that he feels most hurt by his inability to make things better for me. It is that masculine drive to fix things I guess. Unfortunately, I feel like my problems are weighing me down like lead boots, and I am only just managing to keep my head above water. But they are my problems, and somehow I need to figure my way out of this on my own. I guess I have been living with some sort of lowgrade depression for about 3 years. The fact that no one else seems worried about me seems to indicate that I am hiding it well – maybe too well.

I am totally conflicted about continuing on IVF. I really, really, really want more children. Angel is just the joy of my life, and I love him in a way that can’t be described, but I am sure is intuitively understood by just about every decent mother on the planet. When Hubby talks about giving up, I have a physical reaction that is like a cold spike stabbing me in the chest. If he talks about it too long or if I start to dwell on it, I can feel a rising anxiety which is accompanied by a sensation of being unable to breathe. When we have had those conversations, I can feel a panic coming on, and it is like I am holding my breath in case he says something non-negotiable on the matter. I am worried that he is going to demand we stop I think giving away my dream of more children could be the death of me. Not physically (I would NEVER willingly leave Angel without his mother) but I can’t imagine how I would feel if the familiar emptyness I feel now became all encompassing, and pervaded my life entirely. I imagine it would be like feeling dead inside, and going through the motions of living. I felt like this the day of my D&C, like I was there, and feeling the pain, but kinda numb and dead to it at the same time. It was like my mind was trying to protect me from the enormity of the situation, and not allowing me to feel it fully.

I don’t want to end up living like that.

Tell me what you think