Today is my thirty-second birthday. I am another year older, and am exceedingly aware of what feels like a lost year in the procreation department.
Last year I remember getting off the phone with my oldest friend and crying. Along with birthday well-wishes she told me that she was pregnant with her second child. That was one of the first times I remember being really sad after learning of someone else’s pregnancy. And it made me feel like shit.
This year, that kind of disappointment feels like old hat.
Last year we learned the extent of our fertility challenges (so far, anyway). We started the process for IVF (pre-testing only) and then put the process on hold. I decided I hated my job enough to quit (because obviously a pregnancy was not right around the corner-which had been my reason for not quitting sooner) and then decided to stay since it turns out we will only live here a few more months.
Last year my marriage almost imploded…and then started to heal.
Last year I started facing my compulsive eating head on, and stopped ignoring it through the endless diet merry-go-round. Last year I started the big task of getting serious about learning self-love. Last year I cried a lot. Last year I gained a lot of weight and started learning how to love my body unconditionally.
Last year I did not get pregnant, not even close.
I can’t seem to get past that last sentence. That is the thing that’s holding me back, the weight around my ankle keeping me from running. My whole life had been moving on a trajectory towards pregnancy and children, until it wasn’t, and I was left not really knowing where to go or what to do or even who I was.
I’m not sure what I want to get out of this year. The first thing I thought was “survive.” There are a lot of changes coming. New jobs (hopefully) for Mr. X and for me in a new city. Selling our house (I’m thinking positively here). Maybe starting fertility treatments. Maybe not. There are so many unknowns-but aren’t there always? I’m just in a unique position of being aware of the unknowns right now. The future is always unknown, even when it is so carefully planned out (as I had it a couple of years ago).
So here’s hoping that the blog post I write on my thirty-third birthday will have a cheerier tone. Here’s to diving into the unknown and surviving. Here’s to celebrating birthdays and celebrating life.
I really don’t want to re-live the last year, anyway.