I just pulled my kuchen out of the oven. No, that’s not infertility blogger code for something related to follicles or fertility assistance devices. Today I’m a little pissed, and so today I’m baking.
No particular reason really, but I’m just angry. Not the road rage angry, more like the despondent, deep achey, silent cry angry. I was thinking and praying this afternoon, giving myself a moment to really wonder, “What if this doesn’t happen?” And the truth is, it feels unbearable. As though something would happen and I would just dissolve in sadness. My husband keeps talking about how he knows we will be parents and that in a few years will will look back with gratitude (not for infertility but for how it all panned out).
I’m not yet convinced. I’m pretty worried that I never would get over it. Yes, we will be parents by some means. We’ll adopt if we aren’t able to conceive, but it does not feel humanly possible to wait two plus additional years before being a mother and having a baby in this home. It seems like it would feel so empty and so agonizing, for so long or maybe forever. There really isn’t a whole lot more to say about it — again, it’s the deep achey angry and our language falls short in representing it. Maybe I should have more faith like Hubs does but I can’t imagine getting to a point where I don’t feel slighted and resentful should I never be given the gift of conceiving a child.
It’s hard to be angry with God. I find myself feeling guilty about it and fearful of it simultaneously. I know He can handle it on the one hand, but I’m also really really angry and thinking some things related to Him that I never have before. Like how could He withhold this from me? Why give me this desire and then not fulfill it? What else am I supposed to do with it? What am I doing wrong and why would He just be sitting around waiting until I figure it out? Does He really have the ability to soothe and one day heal this deep deep sadness? And what if it grows only deeper and greater?
I can’t say I can answer these questions, although it actually did feel satisfying to bring them into my awareness. They’d been hiding out in my mind’s deep corners, there and affecting me but not yet ready to be dealt with. So I did what I usually do about once a week, I cried and let myself feel fully and I asked Him, I pled with him, and this time I even pray-yelled at Him.
And once I’d let my crying run its course and figured out that the puppy wanted to bite and not comfort, I headed into the kitchen to bake mindlessly. A kuchen. Which, according to Real Simple is german for cake. With apples I picked yesterday with my best pals in town, where we could just be ourselves and feel how we felt and say what we needed to say and be quiet when we needed to be quiet. Which, I figure if I can be like that with them, I can be like that with God too. And just be in process. And be angry. And not try to hide it.