Two Good Eggs

Two cracked eggs find the sunnyside (and funny side) of trying to conceive

Entropy: Quiet Chaos & Questionable Optimism

I have found myself navigating a labyrinth, the turns and dead ends pushing me to think openly, though most importantly, realistically. I try to cling tightly to a philosophy of “sunshine and rainbows,”  but as our attempts continue to fail, the skies become overcast and the hues are a little less brilliant. I’m in denial and, frankly, I’m exhausted by the endless optimism that pours from my lips as I cry inside. If I admit defeat or struggle publicly, it is momentary and whisked away swiftly by a smile and feigned hope. I have become two people, one who speaks and denies her emotions, and one who feels and fails to speak.

I’m living in a false utopia in which I fantasize about tiny toes, tired tears, and swaddling blankets, and consciously ignore the poor test results, delays, expensive treatments, and realistic probabilities. “It will get easier,” I lie, knowing very well this climb is far from its apex. I refuse to accept reality and I am therefore trapped in a state of entropy.

At the beginning of this journey, we were faced with what can only now be described as foreshadowing. I became pregnant rather quickly after we decided the time was right, only to be relegated to a statistically insignificant woman who miscarried. “It’s very common.” And so are car accidents and cancer, and I would never deny that pain.  “But it was early on.” Not too early for me to spend hours crying in the bottom of the shower. “It just wasn’t God’s time for you.” No comment. I thought that would be it. One disappointment. A single lesson on loss, desire, strength, and togetherness. I was mistaken. Taking into account all the lessons we’ve learned the hard way,  it is safe to say we have minored in Disappointment, and that first instance was just a glimmer of what was to come.

And so the process repeats, month after month, with no success. Each new path or method presents itself under a bright spotlight, shining with possibility and interpreted as promissory. I fool myself, once again, into believing we’ve found the golden ticket only to uncover Pandora’s Box. The road forks and the dichotomy deepens. Surely, this will better prepare me for motherhood, the uncertainty, commitment, selflessness, and fatigue. I believe it’s already begun to make me a better friend to other women. A new sense of compassion and understanding is emerging, but the impatience for my own desires has not faded.

No one really wants to talk about the loss or our struggle, and those who do offer guarded platitudes, often rich in misunderstanding. We have reached a point where relaxation, diet, and timing are no longer key elements to conception. Now, the horizon is full of needles, medication, intervention, and paper gowns. I’m scared. And now, more than ever, is the time we need support and understanding, but I’m hesitant to genuinely accept the words of others even though I so badly want to be nestled in their comforting embraces. I speak up and regret it. I stay silent and want to reach out. Entropy.

I’m struggling with the optimism that serves as the the foundation of my personality, and the recurrent unfavorable news that should crush my resolve, but does not. I wonder if I’m actually living in the moment. Am I dealing with this properly? Attitude makes all the difference, they say, but maybe I’m avoiding reality by remaining positive. It’s my defense mechanism. Smiles triumph over defeat. Or do they? Perhaps, smiling is a bandage that covers the wound until the adhesive wears weak.

Until I figure this out, if I ever do, I’ll keep a smile plastered on my face as the chaos brews deep within. Fake it ’til you make it, I guess. It seems as though so many parts of my life are just a big question mark right now. I just want some resolution. How do you deal with uncertainty and road blocks?


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