January 30, 2010

2. expression

Posted in drivel at 4:33 am by M

Today I tried to tell my husband that I’m not fine – it was so so so hard.  My throat hurt.  It’s not used to expressing myself, setting myself up for disappointment.

I was disappointed.

He wants to make it better, he wants us to be ok.  But he doesn’t know how to fix it.  Or to fix me.  Am I broken?  I’m battered that’s for sure, but not broken. He becomes resentful and goes on the offence, whilst I’m trying to tread gently so as not to hurt him.

I need lessons on how to express myself, how to expose my vulnerabilities.  How not to piss my husband off.

It’s tough.

How do you tell your significant other your feelings?  Do you at all?


January 28, 2010

1. welcome to my crazy heart

Posted in drivel at 10:59 am by M

Welcome to my new space.  I’m still me, still the same old M, still the same email address – just a new look.  No passwords.  Well, maybe a password for photos?  What do you think?  All I ask is if you do know me in real life, if you stumble upon this space, please please please let me know.

Would you believe I’ve been a week worrying about what to call this blog?  Seriously, that’s been the hardest part.  I’ve composed a gazillion posts in my head but had nowhere to put them, so in the end I just decided to write from the heart, hence the name of the blog.

This is my third blog.  I’ve been blogging for 4 years now.  I’ve made some truly amazing, incredible connections with some wonderful women.  Now, for some inexplicable reason, I’ve  jeopardised those connections, fallen off the face of the earth – not maintained my side of the relationships.  I hate myself for it.  Why?  I don’t know.  All I do know is that I regret falling away and I miss the support, the laughs, the cries, the friendships.  I will now whittle down the frazillion unread posts in my reader, and start commenting and rejoining the world again.

It’s good to be back.

So for those I haven’t met – here is the condensed version, a timeline of our ivf/infertility/loss history.  It’s ugly, but it’s my ugly.  Ugly punctuated by astounding, incredible beauty – a beauty I still can’t believe I have in my life.

A wise woman once told me to see someone, to talk to someone.  A counsellor.

(I really do need to thank this wise woman.  She knows who she is.)

So I did.  Today was my second appointment.  It’s hard.  All kinds of hard.

My therapist is tough.  Unforgiving.  I cried when I saw the diagram on the whiteboard, a diagram that showed plainly that little girl M had to grow up fast and missed out on so many childhood things.  I mourned for her.

I don’t know how to show vulnerability.  I don’t know how to say “I’m not fine.”  I don’t know how to admit that I’m not ok.  I don’t know how to articulate what I want, what I need.  I don’t know how to not be in control, to be poised and present the facade I want the world to see.

It’s exhausting.

My son is AMAZING.  He’s incredible.  Bright.  Funny.  HUGE.  7 months old with a cheeky personality that is emerging every single day, sparkly blue eyes and a ready, gummy smile that you can’t help but grin back at.

I pinch myself every day that he is here and he is mine.

I am surrounded by breathtaking beauty.

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