I woke up early this morning and braved the cold to go grocery shopping right when the store opened. I am usually the only shopper at that time as was the case again today. They don't do curbside pickup here, so it's the safest way for me to get groceries. I didn't feel that great while shopping, but I went through my list and got what I wanted since I was already there.
When I got home, I got sick. And I could just tell it was stress-related (not anything that worried me), but I was so perplexed. I went back to bed while my boyfriend put away the groceries.
I slept for a couple of hours, woke up, and got sick again. I felt a little sorry for myself, but mostly I was annoyed and confused. What stress am I under? I thought... Well, yeah, there's my new unemployment. But I have a plan for my job search. There's also the pandemic and missing my family and friends, but we are on month ten of that so that's nothing new. Aren't we all stressed? Aren't we all maxed out? I fell back asleep again.
When I woke up again at 1:30, it hit me. It's the date; it's the freaking 11th. The exact same thing happened to me last year too and I just wrote about it last week. I did a literal facepalm while still lying in bed.
Six years ago today I learned that my first IVF did not result in pregnancy. I didn't have any positive feeling that it had, but it was still devastating to get that phone call.
I swear it doesn't hurt like it used to. I promise I'm telling the truth when I say I like my life. But I also have to acknowledge what a huge deal childlessness after infertility is and how damaging failed fertility treatments can be. Even when I don't consciously remember the date, my body remembers on a physical level EVERY SINGLE YEAR. That's how big of a loss it is for me.
And that is why I will keep blogging.
But, for now, I've had some rest, some saltines and soda, and I'm gonna call it an early night.
Be gentle with yourselves, my friends. This shit is hard.