I haven't written in a bit. I usually write my Arts posts a few weeks ahead just to give myself a cushion for when I don't feel like writing. So I published a fun post on watercolors on a day that I wasn't feeling particularly together. Our support group therapist told us at our last session that grief can sometimes be cyclical and that's what I'm experiencing now. I have days when I am wildly productive and days when I'm just not.
Some of this slacking has come from not feeling well. I feel like I've been fighting some minor illness, possibly allergies, for the past few weeks. It could also be the fact that my thyroid is acting up again. I got a script to get my thyroid levels checked on our last visit with SuperDoc but I put off getting it done for almost a week.
I do that sometimes; Procrastinate when I don't want to deal with something that could be hard.
So, I finally dragged myself out of the house to get my blood work done and surprise, surprise, my thyroid levels have risen to 2.9 from the 1.0 they were at when we were TTC'ing for Little P. It's not particularly high but it's too high for TTC'ing and explains why I've been feeling like a wet rag for the past few weeks. I fell asleep at 10pm one night and EH had to put me to bed because I was so completely out of it. I've been getting up at odd hours or getting up late.
I was really upset about the news. My mind started going, thinking about whether or not it was out of wack during the pregnancy and if my thyroid is what caused our loss. And then suddenly, that train of thought led to Well, it's my fault Little P died. I wasn't checking my thyroid level like I was supposed to. Why didn't my RE tell me I had to get that checked? Why didn't they check it at Ob/Gyn Inc? I hate my body. I hate my body. I hate my body. An endless loop in my head until, mercifully, I'm able to quiet myself and turn it off.
The other day I sat and listened to music and cried for half an hour. It felt good but it was startling because I thought I had no tears left. Turns out I do. I cried about my lost motivation. I was never a particularly ambitious person but at least I was motivated. I cried because EH and I have appointments with a perinatologist, an Ob/Gyn and an endocrinologist in the coming weeks. I cried about the time I've lost to the pursuit of family and the unknown amount of time ahead. I cried because this is not where I saw myself at this stage of my life.
The saying, we make plans and God laughs, is making so much sense to me now.
I finally got the strength up to start running again this week. I picked up where I left off, running 10 minutes straight and today I ran 25 minutes straight, no walking interval. I can't tell you how triumphant I felt. It seems like such a small victory but I'm all about the small victories these days. The victory of getting out of bed; the victory of making a meal; the victory of feeling genuinely happy. I ran around the park feeling all the emotional pain of the past few weeks melt away, replaced by the ache in my waist, my calves, my lungs. I had control over my body, and not the other way around. I was teaching my traitor hormones and broken uterus who was boss. In the distance I saw a father with his two sons playing along the path and I sent love and light instead of bitterness and anxiety their way. A glimpse of the person I used to be? Maybe I was winning.
I've started to work on my licensing exam again. I finally completed the application and now have the money for the fee so I'll probably be sending that off next week. This is a victory. Infertility has a nasty way of making me think that if I'm not capable of making a baby, I'm not capable of doing anything else. I took advantage of a good day and went through all the steps to make it happen. I want to feel accomplished again. I also looked into beginning a Spanish course because why not? I was a Spanish scholar back in the day but I still can't understand my in-laws! It can only help me in the field I'm in and my mother-in-law will be thrilled.
EH completed his first semester today and I'm so proud of him. I don't know where he finds the energy but he's a bit of a geek so higher education is right up his alley. I toyed with the idea of getting a doctorate myself...but then I thought...nah.
I turned to him in the car yesterday and asked, "Am I supposed to still be feeling this way?" and he responded, "You can feel however you need to feel for however long you like." That's why I love that dude.
We're driving up to Syracuse tomorrow for the New York State Fair. We're getting ready for a day of livestock (horses, lambs and little piggies, oh my!!), games, crafts and gluttony. EH has been walking around the apartment singing a little jingle he made up about our trip. I haven't seen him this excited since Little P.
I have to admit his excitement is rubbing off on me.