The Second Best

When changes occur in your life - no matter how big or small - conversations that you've had and shed countless tears over before happen all over again. I try to put on a brave face and spare the other person's feelings. No one should feel bad for making conversation. And there are sometimes that I will talk about it; explain the shots, the dangerous drugs, the endless appointments, the crushing disappointment, the utter despair, the bitter resignation and the blinding sadness that comes in waves at the most unfortunate times. But not always. Sometimes I pretend to be grateful to be traveling down a road that I would advise most people to be thrilled about; in fact that is what my job calls for most of the time. So I try to act "as if"...as if this is truly all I ever wanted.

Hope is gone, she confessed
that when you lay your dream to rest
you can get what's second best
but it's hard to get enough

And yet that's just not how I feel most days. There is a dark hole that goes largely ignored when I'm having one of the "good days". I can laugh and joke and be wildly productive, sometimes even a joy to be around. Those are the days that I succeed in ignoring what has become a defining part of my adulthood; the days that I act like this is the life I always wanted, when I can overcome the tears and grief and move forward; one foot in front of the other. I'm not saying that this life is bad - because for some people it's not; it's just not what I would have chosen for myself. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

She wants to run away
but there's nowhere that she can go
Nowhere the pain won't come again

There are some limits that I've found have accompanied the soul-crushing despair of being child-less; limits that hurt me personally for their basis in jealousy and bitterness that was never a part of me before. My heart aches when opening invites to baby showers; so I buy incredibly thoughtful gifts that will be most likely be delivered by a stranger so that I can count my tears in peace. When offered the possibility of holding a baby I will likely decline, since the last time I did so erupted in tears so profuse that it surprised even me. But I do find some comfort when I see the utter joy in my friends' eyes when they look at their children or when their children look at them. I remember fondly the experiences I was afforded by my sister that lovingly included me in her birth experiences. She taught me everything I know about being a parent - that I'll never use. And each time I bring them to mind the pain always follows. I don't want to lose those memories - I hold onto those feelings with all that I have in me. And I go through life looking for the "second best". I know I will likely be disappointed; I know that it won't be "enough". But there are some days that I let my pain loose like some enraged animal:

I am sad. 

I cry. 

I feel guilty for not being able to give my husband a child.

I cry.

I am angry. 

I cry. 

I feel sorry for myself. 

I cry some more. 

I reset my counter of "Days without a Breakdown" and then I move on.