Some Days Are Tough And That’s Alright

some days are tough and thats alright

It goes without saying that some days are tough, while others are blissfully easy. This same logic applies with living with infertility, I’ve found that the majority of the time you can be completely fine and get on with life like everyone else around you. Yet there are some days that are so painful that it’s hard to breathe, let alone function. Sometimes things or events can set these moods off , but for me it’s more that I’ve woken up that day and my brain has gone “Haha nope not working today!” even though I know I have to carry on as normal. Now I’m incredibly lucky that this doesn’t happen often for me, sure I’ll have moments some days that will trigger a tearful moment but after a good cry I’m usually okay and can continue as normal.

Yesterday was definitely the worst day in a long time (not including Mother’s Day last week) but as usual I stuck a smile on my face and didn’t mention it because we had things to do, but I just felt so alone. We needed to take the car to the garage next door as I needed the tracking sorted and a new spare tyre, Mitch needed to get a haircut before he started at his new job today, and I wanted to look for some books and go to Primark as I’d seen online that they had some beautiful Bambi bed sheets that I wanted to get.

Things with the car went well although our bank account wouldn’t agree with that statement. Primark and the bookshops not so much. Believe me I know how stupid it sounds saying that I was upset because they didn’t have some sheets, but it wasn’t about the sheets. Not really, as for me it was just another slap in the face from life saying “you want this but you can’t have it” Despite wanting to cry in the middle of Primark I held myself together. They had other beautiful Disney sets as Mitch pointed out but it wasn’t the same, as I then proceeded to defiantly walk around their home section four more times before accepting that they didn’t have them. Instead they had a beautiful Bambi throw so I settled for that instead, although I will keep returning until those sheets are mine.

I feel I should start this next bit by saying that I went to three bookshops over the weekend and had no luck in any of them. I know in my previous posts I’ve mentioned that having looked online there are no books out there geared towards helping people process their infertility and people sharing their stories, but yesterday I just felt so alone that all I wanted was to read someone else’s experiences and feel a bit better. In each bookshop we visited I made sure we walked around the whole shop and checked the health section thoroughly. First one, nothing. Second one, nothing. Third one, you guessed it… absolutely nothing. By the third bookshop I was feeling well and truly alone and deflated, to the point that I just stood there pointing at the books and declared “One in eight people Mitch. That’s a lot of people and there’s absolutely nothing to make you feel any better! I can’t cope with this, I feel so alone. I can’t do it” and just burst into tears in the middle of the shop. Now that is the first time I have ever cried about my infertility in public, but I couldn’t help it I just broke down. Poor Mitch had absolutely no idea I’d been trying not to do that all day and just went into auto pilot I think, he hugged tightly, told me that I’m coping amazingly, and reminded me that is exactly why I’d decided to write a book. He’s right that is why I’d decided to write a book, but at the same time I wanted to remain hopeful that maybe there was something out there. I still didn’t tell Mitch how I was feeling, I know we’re in this together and he’d be nothing but supportive but at the same I didn’t want to burden him and bring him down too.

I’m not really much better today either, everyone at work has mentioned several times today that I’m very quiet, but I’ve brushed it off as being tired and changed the subject. Truth is I am tired, but I also don’t want to “human” today. I want to go back to bed, cry it all out, and carry as normal tomorrow. I’ve realised today though that  it’s more than alright to have a blip. I’m allowed to feel sad sometimes. An infertility diagnosis requires a grieving period, and no one can tell you how much time you’ll need. I am allowed to be sad about it. As are you.


6 thoughts on “Some Days Are Tough And That’s Alright”

  1. Absolutely agree with the above. My heart also aches for you. Ellan I can feel your pain, you poor thing. And I agree with you, some days are fine and you think ‘Look at me! I’m normal!’ and other days it’s just utter utter despair. I hadn’t realised that that’s exactly how it is until you described it above. The waves of grief.

    The maddest thing is that I had a Primark experience just like that. Our last round had failed and my husband took me shopping to cheer me up. I walked around Primark (AKA HELL – but a very cheap hell, dammit!), couldn’t find anything then walked into about a million pregnant women on the way out. I could feel the panic start to rise and knew I was going to lose it. I told Rob we had to get to the car and on the way to the car park walked into another million toddlers and gloating mums. We even tried to get into a lift but it was too full of prams – you couldn’t make it up. Ended up having a complete and utter panic attack on the stairs of the multi-story and Rob had to literally drag me to the car. It was awful. A mixture of sheer loathing, frustrating, misery and aching grief and I know you know exactly what I mean.

    I’m glad you have some days that are ok. I’m also glad that you can identify the shite days and you should allow yourself to completely resign to them as much as you can. Do whatever you can to make yourself feel at least comfortable.

    I’m sure you have lots of book ideas (ridiculous that they’re not in shops – people are idiots) – let me know if there’s anything in particular that I can suggest. I feel like I’m a library the number of books I’ve bought. Sometimes my husband makes me ‘put the book down’ just to have a break.

    Hugs xxx

    Liked by 1 person

    1. My heart broke for you then, although I’m glad it’s not just me that’s had a public melt down. Life is cruel and it seems that when you’re longing for a baby of your own all you ever see is pregnant women and children. I felt so stupid after my tears in Waterstones though, but I see now that it was probably just a build up of suppressed feelings that needed to come out. I just want to feel less alone if that makes sense? Like I really appreciate you and all the other members of the community whether its here or instagram, but sometimes I just want to talk and cry over a cup of tea with someone who really knows where I’m coming from, or just coping tactics really.
      Sending hugs to you too xxx


  2. I’m sorry you hard a hard day. It’s like you say for me too. I can go about my life happy enough and then have moments or days where it all just feels too much! Sometimes I just feel so angry that I can’t just make a baby with my husband the natural way and not have to go through round after round of IVF with no guarantees. Crying it out and getting a hug from hubby helps. I think it’s also like the straw that broke the camel back. It’s each little thing that adds up. So in your case not finding the bambi sheets, added to the frustration at the book store on top of everything. I actually thought of two books you could try which I saw reviewed on other blogs; and

    Liked by 1 person

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