28 May 2009


I stayed late at school yesterday to get caught up on marking. The end of the school year is, in my opinion, more stressful than the beginning. At least in September I'm all excited about the newness of the school year, but by the end of May I'm so exhausted and out of patience that even the utter cuteness of some of my students isn't enough to get me through the day.

For the first time since September I cried because my class is just so poorly behaved. After a few months of relative goodness the class has returned to their old, misbehaving ways. I feel as though I've been correcting the same behaviours over and over again, writing the same notes to parents and making the same phone calls. It has become obvious to me that my classroom is the only place that many of my students have structure and consequences. Great for their parents, but sucks to be me.

So last night one of my teacher buddies and I went to dinner after finishing up our work. We both came to teaching elementary school after exploring other things. We got to talking about my pre-teacher days and it got me thinking about how different my life would've been if I chose the other fork in the road.

You see, ten years ago I was a graduate student studying 18th century French literature, which in my opinion is the coolest century. When I finished my Master's degree I did an exchange with a university just outside of Paris. After my first six months in France I decided that I wanted to pursue my doctoral studies but in another field. I was all excited about my new research topic, enrolled in classes and attended a whole bunch of different seminars (some more interesting than others, but I learned a lot). But deep in my heart I knew that my forever life wasn't in Europe. I had a boyfriend back home and I just missed the space back home in Canada. I also knew that although academia was fun, it wasn't my true heart's desire.

So I applied to teachers' college and I got accepted. Then I decided that I wasn't going to do my exams for the seminars that I took. Everything that was leading me back across the ocean just felt right. I had no doubts. None.

But lately I've been thinking about that certainty that I felt all those years ago. I know that my lack of energy and my poorly behaved class isn't going to chase me away from teaching. I do love being around children and I know that teaching is in my blood. Despite my frustration today I felt so much joy when a little boy in my class figured out how to spell a word on his own (this is a boy that can barely read or write so it was quite the victory).

I don't know if being a mother is something that I feel certain about anymore.

I feel so empty right now. I thought that the TTC break that L.upron is giving me was going to be a great way to give myself time to enjoy things that I did before babymaking took over my life. I thought that not having to chart and give myself hormone injections was going to be the vacation that I needed. But all I can think about is the fact that I can't even try to have a baby right now. I can't even hope to get pregnant.

The logical side of my brain knows that I am in good, skilled hands. My Napro doctor and my surgeon are two people that I have complete trust in. Both are very hopeful of my chances. Heck, even Mr. JB is hopeful.

I am not.

I don't trust my body to be able to do what it is supposed to do. It's failed me again and again -- not just TTC-related stuff, but in other ways. I'm asthmatic. I have ulcerative colitis. I have so many different allergies. I'm always seem to be in some sort of pain (today it's my right wrist and my IT band, I'm sure it's a yoga-related injury). I get migraines. I try not to dwell on it, but it just seems like I got a dud for a body.

How can I trust that my surgery in August is going to fix all of my problems?

I'm sure it just seems ridiculous to abandon my dreams of becoming a mother at this point. We really don't even have a fighting chance until after my second surgery. But maybe God and the universe are trying to tell me that I'm just not meant to have children. Perhaps I'm just supposed to nurture children at school then return to my quiet, empty, childless house?

Or am I just digging this defeatist hole for myself because of self-preservation?

I feel so lost right now. I don't know if it's drug-related or that I've reached my breaking point after being on this long, painful road.

All I do know for certain is that I need this school year to end, and fast. I also need a glass of wine. A big one.


  1. Oh honey. I hope you got that glass of wine, and hubby gives you a nice foot rub to lift your spirits. I 100% understand that loss of hope, where you honestly don't believe it's going to happen. Sending you my love and thoughts xxx

  2. I'm sorry you're having such a rough time. I know what you mean about the multiple dx's and feeling like your body failed you. We're going to get through this, I promise! When's the last day of school? I'm praying for you.

  3. I'm sorry you're feeling so miserable right now. Hopefully a couple glasses of wine and some time off will help you feel lots better!

  4. Times like these always make everything look so bleak. I've had many a similar feeling. With taking a two year break, it makes me wonder if I'll ever pursue any of this again. If at the end of the two years I'll even want to be a mother.

    But we can't think that far ahead, because who knows how we'll feel in two years, let alone two months.

    Life changes in so many unexpected and amazing ways.

    I'm thinking of you.


  5. Exhaustion, for me, is the surest way to bring on despair. I hope that some post-school year rest will restore some glimmer of excitement and hope. You sound really worn out.

    But I don't think, even if we have great faith, that it's ever fair to conclude that God wants us to do this or that. God's will is so beyond the human mind. And so many terrible, horrible people have babies thoughtlessly. So that just can't be it. Though I know the feeling...

  6. I too have been thinking of those diverging roads, why I went this way instead of that way, and how exactly did I end up here. Maybe it is the weather, or the drugs, or a stage or mourning that we go through - I think it is important to doubt and to question - it is important to wonder - how will we know if it is all real - what we truely want if we do not question. It must be even harder when you have such strong faith, I do not, but wondered if someone in the universe was trying to tell me something - to be "extreme infertile" - to be sick (it is hard to think straight when you are always sick, when something hurts).
    Also - lupron does do strange things in the mind - it really does.

  7. maybe your finally being forced to just love yourself.. love yourself and the body that you have just as it is... maybe then it will stop fighting you and bring you that sense of true hope again.

    I don't have as many months of TTC under my belt as you but I have come to realize that TTC is not just about getting pregnant but a journey of self discovery, who am I, why do I want this, what will it mean if we don't or do have children, do I want children? I think it's just another chapter or chapters of life and I'm kinda grateful for this time TTC and all that I have learned about myself.

    I have hope for you and know you'll find your way... perhaps some more restorative yoga would help you get there?

  8. Why do I just feel like you are not yourself since you been on lupron. I just want you to know that you will get through this and don't make any rash decisions. I would drink the whole bottle and not just the glass. :)

  9. I'm so sorry you're feeling like this. Maybe when school is done and you have time to relax you will feel better. I also know what it feels like to just not have your body work. How can we think it ever will after all this time? Plus, seeing all of us bloggers who have had surgeries and still not conceived probably doesn't help you! But there are lots of success stories of people conceiving after surgery, so hopefully you'll be among those!

  10. I teach kindergarten and this has by far been the worst year of my career. There are days when I envy my friends with office jobs and think "what if". Most of those days occur in May. I have a rough bunch this year and I just keep counting the days. Between the endo. and work, I have worn myself out completely. I wish you the best for what is left of your school year.

  11. Your body might not work like it is supposed to, but that in no way means you cannot be a mother. If that is what your heart desires, you know there are ways to make it happen, even if you can't rely on your body. It is too soon to give up on your body's ability though, you have to wait and see how things are after the surgery.

    Lupron fucks with you. There really isn't any better way to say it than that.

    If you want to get together and chat, let me know. I really get where you are coming from.

    Have a glass or two of wine, and then have a glass or two for me.

  12. I always start to depair over the worthwhileness of my life and the value of my choices in the week before my period. I don't know about everyone else, but when I REALIZE I'm PMSy, I feel better, only because I realize that my doubts and depression are NOT reliable indications of the direction of my life. I think all that goes double for lupron.

    And, I don't know whether this makes any difference, but I was really surprised to hear of your whole list of health issues. I think of you as being so healthy and fit! So, maybe your personality is in great health, and your body is just confused.

  13. Hi:

    I've been reading your blog for a while now and have nominated you for a Sisterhood award. You can find out the details of the award at babydancings.blogspot.com.

  14. You sound incredibly stressed :( and all these health problems are probably a cumulation of all that stress. Is teaching your true passion? I just wonder if you need to have a change of direction. Sorry if I sound so direct, I've never followed your blog but I feel your pain and I know the anguish of infertility & all the stress it has put me through. Wishing you all the best xo

  15. After 10 years of endo, 2 surgeries, a year of trying, and now one hopefully last surgery to fix my uterus, I know what you mean about feeling like your body is failing you. And I know what you mean about wondering if you even want a baby anymore.

    I stumbled upon your blog after a night of tears. I send you lots of love b/c this is not a fun place to be.

    And Lupron sucks. :) Be thankful you're not having hot flashes. Ick!