Hey, Jealousy

The thing about infertility is that you can't escape from it. It's always there. Sure, there are moments I forget about it, a few precious minutes when I am too happy or preoccupied to remember that my body doesn't work right. But they're just moments. Not days, not weeks. Moments. And then, if only for a second, the pop of a pill or the stab of a needle forces me to remember.

Most days, I am able to smile through it and soldier-on.

Then there are days like today. Days when the emotional tidal wave hits without warning, and I am overcome with fear, anger, resentment, and doubt.  And the jealousy. Oh, the jealousy. Sometimes I feel like it's eating my soul with its wickedness and I wonder who I've become. Last week, I was actually jealous of a pregnant dog. A DOG.

Over the past few weeks, no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to turn my good moments into a full day. There are just too many triggers. It makes sense, though, when you think about it:  There are people all around me. People created by people who could make people. People who could do something that I cannot.