Day 04 — The worst thing ever to happen to me…
I’ve been thinking about this one for awhile. The trouble is I’m a fortunate girl whose problems usually involve food or a bathroom in some way.
So when I start thinking about the “worst” things that have ever happened to me, the first things that come to mind are as follows:
- The time I ran out of hot water with conditioner still in my hair.
- The time I realized that the 2-1 shampoo/conditioner really doesn’t work at all.
- The time(s) I bit my fat little cheek because I chew too fast.
- The time I poked myself in the eye.
- The time I poured egg beaters into my coffee because the carton looked like half & half.
- The time I poured half & half into the skillet because the carton looked like egg beaters. What the hell!
- The time I made a horrible vegetarian “meatloaf” that everybody choked down in effort not to hurt my feelings. Although that might be on their “worst” thing list. ((hugs))
Sure, there have been plenty of truly painful experiences – broken hearts from loves I thought would never end – sending my beloved pets gently into that goodnight are still memories that cause me to pause and reflect.
But I took on this meme so I will give you a genuine answer.
During my marriage – we wanted a family and it just wasn’t happening for us. We’d tried on our own for a year and nothing. We went to the best fertility hospital in Boston and, after taking fertility drugs with no success, decided that IVF was our best chance. For a year I got daily hormone shots, got my IVF treatment and eventually it worked! We got pregnant and I couldn’t have been happier – I was elated, giddy to see a little beating heart on the ultrasounds, talking to my belly, writing letters to my unborn etc.
But soon I started suffering from “fertility sickness”. My ovaries had swollen to a ridiculous amount and I started retaining so much fluid that my skin started to stretch. It was ugly. And painful.
And soon after that, when my husband came with me so that he could see the beating heart… … there wasn’t one – no longer a beating heart. It had died. And I had lost my composure and started to bawl and wail uncontrollably. I just couldn’t believe it. I was absolutely crushed.
That night my husband said he wanted to try again. And I said I didn’t think so. And I meant it. I know many people are successful after trying multiple attempts but I just didn’t want to go through all that again. And he did. And soon I started to resent him. It wasn’t his fault and he didn’t do anything wrong – but little by little I began to detach myself from him until I didn’t feel anything anymore.
In so many ways I was selfish and weak. Other people had suffered much larger tragedies and come out of it strong and tried harder and found success … but I just quit – all of it.
And then we divorced.
That was December but truthfully I can’t remember what year. I don’t think about it much anymore – and sometimes the whole thing – the marriage and everything seems like it happened to another person.
All my life I’ve heard that I’m emotionally detached – that I’m cold. Sometimes I still believe that.