I presume I engage in a normal amount of self-care nonetheless thanks to exercise, sleep, play, healthy eating, etc. But apparently it’s not enough, because apparently the whole chasm of emotion and suffering from the anticlimax of our infertility run is stubbornly not self-healing.
About 7 months have passed since the fallout and I basically plan my life around avoiding the topic altogether. Unfortunately, being 32 and married for 4 years means just about everyone asks. “When are you having kids?” It’s an absolute land mine of a topic that I live in fear daily will come up, because when it does, and when I can’t forcibly shut it down right away, I lose it. At best I tear up, say I can’t talk, and awkwardly leave. At worst I cry. Hard. Every time, I’m left feeling raw and unhappy for hours, days or even weeks. I don’t want to cry at the gym, or in the grocery store, or to my parents or to my grandma or to the new people we’ve just met. I just don’t want to talk about it ever again.
Unfortunately, I’ve had to learn that is an unrealistic request.
So today I called the phone number in the back of my planner and made an appointment. “Call Kaiser” has been on my to-do list for months, and finally I can scratch it off. It’s not the fertility nurse this time, it’s the counseling department, and I have an appointment in a couple weeks to help navigate what they say is “symptoms of anxiety from dealing with some pretty heavy stuff.”
I don’t like to talk about it, including with a therapist, and I’m already nervous and full of dread. But somehow I find the discipline to exercise and drink a lot of water and eat healthy and rest, so here is one more facet of self-care to check off the list, whether I like it or not.