The fear, though, seems secondary to everything else I've been thinking and feeling.
- What if I can't conceive because God knows I would be a bad mother?
- What if I can't conceive because I did something wrong and God is punishing me?
- What if I take fertility drugs and it ends up killing me like it almost did last time?
- Maybe I'm just not meant to be a mother.
- Maybe I'm not good enough.
- I don't want to do this if it means forcing the hand of God and taking matters into my own hands. (in vitro, fertility drugs, surrogacy, adoption)
- What if my hormonal/emotional issues will stop me from being a good parent?
- What if my husband really doesn't want more children and ends up resenting me if we do have one?
I've tied my inability to conceive to who I believe I am as a person.
I have become the master of self-deprecation.
There are so many days when my mind is overwhelmed with the thought "I am nothing." It consumes me. A lot of people say "there's a voice that tells me I'm not worth anything." For me, it's not some disconnected voice, I know it's me saying it. The past 6 years have molded this image of worthlessness inside of me. I never recognized it, though, until my therapist read my blog biography for Eat.Sleep.Make.
My first assignment was to rewrite it. I couldn't do it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't write something that didn't humiliate me in some way. It was absolutely impossible for me to be proud of myself for any aspect of my life. As far as I was (and mostly still am) concerned, I had(have) nothing to contribute to the world. (Even now it's still hard for me to believe that people actually voluntarily read these blog posts.)
It's a terrible thing... living each day in such a haze of deception and depression. I know what the Bible says. I know I am intelligent. I know I am talented. I know I am beautiful.
But, I don't know that any of that is worth anything if I'm not a mother. The things I do, the things I know, the things I create will leave no lasting impression on this planet when I am gone. These things will have no affect on my life after death. The only thing I can find that kind of meaning in is raising children to be world changers, too. I'm not destined for greatness as far as business or being an evangelist is concerned. Being a mother was the greatness I wanted.
I observe my brothers and their wives with their children. My nieces and nephews running to their parents when something happens... they're hurt, they're hungry, they're tired, they're scared. They find everything they need in their parents... love, affection, protection, guidance... It is such an amazing and beautiful thing. To see how all the effort they've planted and fostered has begun growing into tiny adults who can make their own choices and so eagerly learn new things... it's an absolute miracle. To know that your body contributed to the creation of this amazing being who never ceases to astonish you, it must be incredible. God chose you for a miracle.
For some reason, though, I have not been chosen for such.
To be honest with you, it's a lot of the reason why I started writing this blog. If I can't make an impact on this world by raising a child, then I will make an impact by sharing about it. Exposing the pain, the depression, the surrender, the hope, the battle...
I am aware that right now a lot of these posts are dark and sad, but the only way of expelling the darkness is to expose it. I have to share this all before moving forward. I know there is light at the end of the tunnel. I know I will not be stuck in this rut forever. I know my God has not forsaken me.
However, I am human. I am not completely immune to the things that happen as a result of being part of this world. So, I'm working through it. I'm just choosing to do it in front of all of you.
I know this is helping others because some have reached out to me already, but it is also helping me. SO MUCH. It's helping me to be honest with myself. It's helping to hold me accountable to this healing process I've committed myself to. It's helping bridge the gap between me and my family because they know what I'm going through now. Most of all, it's giving me hope because now I see so many others that have been where I am and have come through it successfully and joyfully.
I know I'll find my worth again.