I fell apart on Sunday. I woke up feeling off and was soon unexplainably crying.
I felt hollow, defeated, and just so sad.
So I just sat with my feelings. Well, I sat with them as they poured out of my tear ducts. And came out with my shallow breaths. And I realized that my body was remembering a bad anniversary.
It's been five years since my first IVF did not result in pregnancy.
Five years since I got that phone call.
Five years since I hung up the phone,
collapsed on the floor,
howled from a place deep inside me,
feeling the worst pain and trauma
that could only be caused by
the most devastating loss of my life.
And this past Sunday I felt a fraction of that pain and sadness again. To say the least, it sucked.
So, Sunday sucked. I cried. I felt sad. I cried some more. Pretty hard.
Then I got out of the house and followed through with some plans I'd been looking forward to and I was really glad I did. It wasn't a very good day, but I did the best I could with it. Then it passed.
And I'm still left with a bit of an "exhaustion hangover" but that's fine.
It's all a part of the grief and recovery process.