I’m back to hospital next week, nearly 9 months since they removed the polyps they felt were affecting our chances at conceiving. My period is due on Monday.
It’s hard to think how positive my team were when I had my op and post op assessment. So much so, this appointment was a “just in case but we don’t think you’ll need us by then”. I so wanted them to be right.
So far all the baby dust is being distributed amongst my family, friends and colleagues. It’s almost like a parcel being delivered to a neighbor but your name isn’t on it, so they keep it and you have no proof it was meant for you…
I decided today that I’m going to go back to therapy. I spoke to my other doctor and he said it’s a good idea.
For some reason I always assume they’ll cross examine me about how I’m feeling, not believe and belittle me. I suppose I feel so used to people telling me “enjoy yourself before you become a Mum” or how lucky I am to “have time for yoga, work and charity projects!” that I struggle to take my mental health seriously.
A few triggers:
1) My sister in law posting her scan photo all over Facebook and Instagram.
2) An old friend (who is too much drama to unfriend and unfollow) replied to my post about trying to rehome my final foster kitten:
“With three kids I have too much responsibility to take on a cat, sorry”
Really?! As if I was even asking her! As if I don’t have responsibilities myself!
3) Handing over my foster kittens was harder than I thought. I had three, the first two went as a pair on Friday. The final one, today.
The final one grew very attached to me while he was alone over the weekend. He would suck my clothes for comfort. It comforted me too, oddly. I imagined how beautiful it would be to breastfeed a child of my own one day…
Hoping some CBT can help me cope better.