"I'll have a scoop of everyday stress sprinkled with infertility..."

   The first thing I want to do is thank Genevieve and her friends for the warm welcome to my little blogging adventure. It means a lot. In the past months, I have read Genevieve's blog along with several others and sympathized, have been comforted, and cried with some of the writers; most of which have been struggling with infertility for far longer than I have. The common theme I have found in all of the blogs I have read is faith. Although everyone has their bad days, the majority of the posts are hopeful. They have given me faith on days when I thought I had none left, so thank you.
   Having days where I feel like I have no faith left makes me feel weaker than I would like to admit, especially after reading some of the posts I have. I can't help but think, "these women are so much stronger than I am...", and it makes me wonder how I will handle this in 2 or 3 more years. There is a lot I fear saying aloud, afraid mostly if I do that it will become a reality.
   With all of the things going on in my life other than the baby issue, by the end of today, I just felt like the walls were closing in, like the weight on me is going to make my legs give out, so much so I couldn't decide on red or white wine, so I bought a bottle of both. Now on my third glass of wine, I realize some of the weight has a lot to do with my fears, so in an attempt to overcome them, I'm going to blog them. It's not really saying them out loud, but it's a step in the right direction...I think. So here are my two biggest fears:
   I'm afraid that one day I will be told I will never be able to have a child of my own, and if that happens, I'm afraid that Billy will decide I can't give him everything he deserves and leave. (I just want to clarify, he has never given me any indication of this, and has been more supportive than I can say through it all so far)
   I think it goes beyond fear though, I feel guilty for being unable to do the one thing that is supposed to come natural to me. I want more than anything to be a mother, but equal to that, I want to make Billy a father. I want to give him a child, and the thought of not being able to do that breaks my heart.
   And beyond the guilt is the anger. I think this is the strongest of feelings at this point. I am on a break from hormones in hopes that my cysts shrink on their own, losing time that I could be trying. Meanwhile, it seems like everyone around me is getting pregnant. I don't dislike people for getting pregnant when I can't, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't bitter. Three people this week alone told me they were pregnant, and then I have a night like tonight, where I have a couple of glasses of wine and ask the pointless questions. Why me? If the doctors had done their job when I was 15, would I be having this problem now? Is there something I should have done differently? All of which are impossible to answer, which surprise surprise, makes me angrier.
   I don't like the feeling of having no control over what is happening, so I accept it, and continue to have faith, what other choice do I really have?