Oh Nurse, Can I Get a Straight Jacket Please?

It's only noon and I have already had one of those days. I've already prayed two dozen times. Rambling, incoherent prayers for my family and myself in particular.  Half whining, half pleading for some semblance of strength and peace while trying to praise Him in between wiping away tears.

It started okay I guess. I woke up feeling better than I had the two days prior and was relieved to have the energy to get out of bed (thank you Robitussin with Codeine) and get G ready for school. Little Miss likes sleeping in these days-can I get an AMEN-and I was looking forward to our breakfast routine just him and I. I inwardly groaned as I tried to rustle G from sleep. "Get up love, it's time to get ready for school" was met with a fierce Uh Uh and an attempt to slide beneath the blankets again. I could see how this was going to play out, we've been having more of these days the past few months and I tried to put on a happy face and entice him from his warm caccoon.

"Get up and get ready and I'll pour you a big bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch".  Scowling eyes. "Let's go, buddy, we don't want to be late".  The start of tears. "Come on" I coaxed now pulling him from bed. I don't want to go to school he tells me. School is no fun and I'm sick of working!

I manage to get him dressed and down stairs for breakfast but when it came time to put his shoes on the tears started, the feet stomping commenced and a poor Zhu Zhu pet was kicked aside in frustration.  I don't like school anymore. Why do I always have to stay so long at school and work? I never get to be with you and I never have time to play!

Oh how the mother in me wanted to wrap him in my arms and not let go. I know that this is partly to do with H's deployment next week. I also know that the seven year old boy in him just wants to play and have fun.  I ache for him because I can not make this easier.  How do you tell a child that life is not always fair, our responsibilities are not always fun and pain can seem like a constant companion?

I held his hand with Prim in tow, still in pajamas, to the bus stop. He held onto me with such fierceness that even with coaxing from the bus driver he would not let go. I carried him home, put both kids in the car and drove to school while he sobbed and wailed that he did not want to go to school.  We walked to class, put away his things and a half an hour later, after holding him and whispering words of prayer and encouragement, started to leave. He began to cry all over again, big, fat, rolling tears and all I could do was tell him I love you and walk away.

I had a rock in my stomach the rest of the morning. I got home with enough time for a quick shower for me, get Prim ready for school and once again head out the door. After dropping her off I headed to the doctor's office for one more ultrasound to confirm this cycle had been a wash.

The ultrasound tech walks in and starts to do her thing. As she's reading off measurements I ask her if she's measuring for size of the follicles to which she responds that they are only checking for ovulation. What? I ask her. I thought I was here to have the follicles measured to see if they had matured over the past week. Her reply was curt and snippy and after a few more back and forth exchanges the tears could not be held back any longer.

When I get frustrated I cry.  I am not rude to other people. I am not usually confrontational and I do not reply in anger when I feel like I've been wronged. Are there exceptions to this rule? Yeah. Who doesn't loose it sometimes? But today, after my morning with G, still not feeling well and just being ticked off at being infertile plus arguing with the ultrasound tech about semantics just culminated in frustrated tears.  She was quick to finish her scan, try to explain why there was miscommunication and then wrap me in a big, fluffy hug which only made me cry harder.


My doctor must think I am an emotional wreck. It's the second time he has seen me cry and my attempts to tell him I really do have it all together probably fall on deaf ears.  How can I explain that this process is very lonely? With all of the people involved the person I need the most can do nothing but offer the token words of encouragement and now will have to do it from several thousands of miles away. How could I say that my tears were really for my son-that my smiles can only last so long before I need to be released from the sadness. That as a mother I must be an emotional trapeze artist, maintaining a delicate balance of stability in the face of so much change and disruption.

I'm sure I was the talk of the office this morning.  Maybe my tears were seen as a tantrum for not having a good cycle.  Maybe they will pity me my infertility or departing husband.  Maybe next time they will offer me a sedative before my ultrasound.  It can't matter right now.

The only thing that has to matter is making it through next week.  I have to get through saying goodbye which, as always, is the most excruciating part of deployment. I need to smile while watching my husband walk away, praying that God will keep him safe and that one day, when he least expects it, I can say Hey babe. We did it. We're pregnant.