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.