It's almost midnight and I can't get to sleep.
I tried, and failed.
I'm usually not an insomniac; I usually fall asleep peacefully and sleep soundly all night, so I'm always perturbed when I can just not my mind to stop racing long enough to drift off to dreamland.
At least I know why I can't sleep. I came home in angry, no, furious tears after a church event where I felt absolutely swarmed by all things pregnancy and baby. Three of the other ladies were very, very pregnant, and there were many jokes and half-complaints about baby-carrying. Many expressions of interest and concern for the expectant mamas.
An entire aspect of life - namely, pregnancy and childbearing - that not only do I not feel a part of, but I want to run away from as fast as I can while screaming at the top of my lungs.
At this point in my blog's life, I feel like I could recycle any number of posts:
I felt extremely jealous tonight. Just like last Lent (and many times between).
I felt angry at my childlessness and others' (unintended) insensitivity. Just like I wrote about here.
I felt vulnerable and exposed as I was the only one (seemed to me anyway) not laughing at the pregnancy jokes or rummaging in my purse instead of engaging in pregnancy-related conversation.
I have to trust I'm moving forward with increased acceptance and peace, but sometimes it just feels like I'm in a sickening vortex where the same emotions and challenges keep getting dredged up again and again, except with even more intensity as the babies around me and my months of childlessness keep multiplying.
The worst of it is, no one seems to hear my heart-cries of pain. (Kind of what I wrote about here.) Of course that's not entirely true - my dh would remind me immediately of all the wonderful, caring, supportive friends who have rallied and prayed for us, of course including blog friends!
But sometimes it just feels so darn lonely. Like I just want to say, "Can we all not talk about pregnancy? Because it feels like daggers to my heart. Honest." (An impossible plan) Like I crave someone to just get it before I have to spell it out for them.
Frankly, I just really want the pregnant belly or the child in my arms. It is just so hard feeling like an outsider in woman-land, feeling like the wierdo who isn't able to conceive and birth a baby already! I know there's ultimately no answer to the pointless question "Why me?" but that doesn't mean I don't ask it sometimes.
I should really try to fall asleep. Last thought: I appreciated this post by "All You Who Hope" so very much. Not because it gave me hope that one day I may indeed look back on this time as a horrible bad dream - I'm not really in a hopeful mood tonight - but because of its acknowledgement that infertility is blazingly, mind-numbingly, soul-crushingly, depressingly hard.
Jesus, I trust in you. Jesus, help me.