Lots has happened recently.

First, I have been remiss in not mentioning that my back pain is, for the first time in almost two years, completely under control. I have been having more pain free days then not. This is HUGE. And yet… I think I expected this to have more of an impact on my general state of well-being then it has. Yes, I am doing more, sleeping less, taking fewer mind numbing pain killers (migraines still in effect here, people), and all of that, but really, I am just still… bleh. See, I expected that when the back pain went away, I would wake up suddenly feeling this awesome sense or relief and joy and triumph. No such luck. I pretty much feel the same. Exhausted, feeble, and demoralized. It seems I was happily using the pain as a convenient excuse for the depression that is really just primarily related to my infertility. I am still broken and childless and now that a huge percentage of my physical pain is gone, I have to stare my emotional pain a bit more squarely in the face. Great. I was so looking forward to that.

But there have been small gains that made me feel deep, needed joy. My first 13 minute mile. A return to Yoga. Oh man, yoga. I went to my first class in months this past Sunday and it felt so good. I did it all. I did not modify a single pose. Forward folds and everything. I got home from that class feeling flush and high. My beau told me I looked radient. THAT was nice.

As for the hard stuff, one of my friends had her baby. A little girl. And while that is tremendously joyous news, it hit me so hard. So many of my friends have become parents recently, but this is one of the few actually living close by. And while I have had to deal with FaceBook updates from so many of these folks, I have had very few actual babies in my world. This new one is one I will have to reckon with. I will have to meet her, hold her eventually, watch her mother nurse her, and pretend that it does not kill me. That I am not wracked with jealousy and heartache. And it’s just a warning of what is to come. As more of my closer friends (and by ‘closer’ I mean both in proximity and friendship) get pregnant and have their babies, I will have to face this over and over. I know every infertile woman before me has had to deal with this, but I truly find it baffling – how are you supposed to look your friends in the eye when they have the only thing you can’t? Knowing that they are moms and you never will be. How are you supposed to feel kind or generous when you see their children? When all you want in the world is to feel the love that those two humans share. How can I handle it as each new baby in turn calls each friend ‘mama’, when I know no one will ever call me that? The hole in my heart could fit an iceberg.

And this is not the time to remind me that I can adopt. Really, it’s not.

This month also brings to a close my third attempt to conceive post recanalization. So much for that. I’ve made the appointment to go see Dr. K. It’s time to talk fertility drugs and good god, that terrifies me. Can I afford them? Will they make my headaches worse? Will they make me gain 30 pounds? Will I be dealing with the the emotional upheaval of my last few attempts to have a child in a hormone-induced insanity? These are all good questions. But the most important one – will I take them? Yes, of course. Will they help? My guts tells me probably not.

But I have to try.