Morning Realization

This morning I realized I am a high functioning optimistic-positive-depressed-person; I believe Xyrem is helping me more with just my narcolepsy.

Last night I had a very interesting session with my Xyrem (remember it lowers my inhibitions).  My husband’s family came over for dinner to hang out for a while, and while everything was fine and went well, I wasn’t really in the mood to hang out with other people yet.  I was still very sad about the embryos, and I don’t like to “fake” interactions.  Before they came, I took a Vicodin to help with my sciatica, but towards the end of the night, it started to wear away.  When my husband’s sister’s family arrived first, I showed them the picture of Number 5 and Number 7 because I wanted to share it with them, and I wanted to share the picture with them before the parents arrived.  They have a beautiful little girl who is 1.75 years old.  My husband’s sister is like my sister too, and during this time, having sibling support is really important.  Unfortunately, my own sister who I’ve been close to my entire life hasn’t been talking to me since last September, right after my breast surgery (a long story).  I emailed my entire family when we found out we were pregnant, and I emailed everyone again (on Saturday) when we found out the pregnancy would be terminated.  No response from either her or her husband after either email.  As my sister-in-law said to me, I’ve extended many olive branches and I just have to move on.  My mother also called me yesterday which was very stressful because she wanted to know why things went wrong with the pregnancy and every last detail about my future plans, including if I wanted to work or not.  Next time I’m not going to tell my parents until after the 1st trimester, like most other people.  I just can’t handle that additional stress right now.

At night when the Xyrem started working, I started to speak more freely with my husband.  When I feel sad, I usually don’t voice it or I suppress it; I keep it to myself and try to compartmentalize it.  I’m also allergic to alcohol (asphyxiation) so I’ve never had that as an outlet to relax or relieve stress temporarily.   But maybe that’s a good thing, or I might have been an alcoholic (I told you I’m a positive person!).  I started telling my husband how the Xyrem lowers my inhibition because I was crying again Friday night when thinking about the embryos.  I said sometimes I feel like I could just really cry it out, REALLY cry and allow myself to feel all the emotions and just let it out REAL GOOD  just one time.  And then I said maybe I should just let myself cry right now and that it would probably be really good for me; I basically wanted permission to cry.  I told him that even though I was crying right now as we’re talking, I was still holding it inside in a big way.  I was still controlling the intensity of my cry. I guess I learned to control my crying when my dad yelled at me that one night in high school when I had my hypnogogic hallucinations.  I wanted to freely cry and for my husband to be okay with it and to not freak out, and for him to comfort me while I cried.  He didn’t say anything and I took that as a sign that it would be okay for me to cry, so I looked into myself more deeply and started sobbing; I really wanted to let go and sob and wail in despair without being judged.  Ten seconds later my husband asked me “what’s going on over there, huh?”  I replied that it was the embryos.  I told him I already really loved them, and it really hurts.  He said, “don’t worry, we’ll make more.”  I said, “I know, but I”m still sad.”  I just needed to grieve first to move on.  Then slightly agitated, he said “C’mon.  They were so little.  It was only two weeks.  They were like nothing!  Just focus on making more.”  I told him not to say that.  I told him “I know the process was very early but they were NOT nothing.  DO NOT say they were nothing.”  I sobbed a few more times and then I stopped crying but was still tearing in the dark.  He said, “you really want to have a baby, don’t you?”  I said, “yes, I really do.”  I told him I had always kept my emotions about whether or not I wanted kids at bay because I knew early on there was a good possibility I wouldn’t be able to have kids.  Even before we were engaged I made sure he knew everything going on with me medically (I had already had my surgery of 59 fibroids) and even had him go with me to a fertility doctor to make sure he understood all the risks and implications.  I didn’t feel sorry for myself and I didn’t want to be married to anyone that had unrealistic expectations or anyone that would make me feel guilty about things that were out of my control.  I am what I am.  I told him that once I knew our surrogate was pregnant, it was hard not to feel and think like a mom already, and I loved the embryos.  I told him that it’s been really hard going through everything I’ve been through, not being able to do so many things, not even being able to go up and down our stairs twice without feeling winded because my expanders pressing down on my ribs make it hard for me to breathe, not feeling awake during the day (although now it’s improving), and feeling pain and discomfort everyday.  I told him it’s…really…hard (I’ve never told him that), and I told him but despite all this, I still always think that whatever I’m going through is nothing compared to someone who is battling cancer or any other life-threatening illness, that I can’t even imagine how scared they would feel.  I told him that as a kid, I was always a naturally empathetic person (even if I didn’t necessarily express it) and that I wanted to take other people’s suffering away from them, to help them, to bear the pain for them.  But as a kid, I didn’t know how to handle those emotions.  I finally reached a point where I didn’t feel anything at all, happiness or sadness, and didn’t want to live the rest of my life.  I’ve since learned how to pick myself up and “compartmentalize” emotions which is why my husband always asks me how I can be so  strong.  I tell him you have to be strong and dare to feel and look at disturbing things and to keep yourself together in order to help those in need.  I told him this is all very hard for me too because I’m not really able to help others right now, and he told me that I need to take care of myself first.  I know.  I know that, but that still doesn’t make it any easier.  He said I already am helping others, with my blog, with my baking, when I’m teaching my students, which is true.  But the unfortunate truth of teaching is that everything else that teaching comes with (other than the students; I love the students) sucks so much more out of me than I can replenish, and when I have children, they deserve to have a mom that is full on the inside.

It’s Sunday and I’m off to a bridal shower in a little bit; time to hold it together after letting myself all out on the internet.