Me...Post Hyst

When I first started this blog my very first post ever was an intro to me.  That was nearly 100 posts and two years ago.  For those of you who have been around since the beginning, you know that I am a different person now.  I mean I am still Sara Jean.  I still prefer to be called Sara by anyone who isn't my husband or very close to me.  I still love pink, and keep my toenails in a constant state of pinkness (assuming I am not having surgery in the next few hours).  I still love my Sassy dog and my Bandit butt, and I would still take in any animal in need as long as I could.  Fundamentally, I am still me.  But I am not.  I am different.  I am a different person, and I have been meaning to explore exactly what that means, and so since I am awake in the middle of the night, yet again, I figured why not now?

For years, with two husbands and countless doctors, my life revolved around getting pregnant.  Time was counted with periods and fertility treatments.  Moods were described in pain levels and not actual moods.  Dreams revolves around that little plus sign on a piece of plastic that would change our lives forever.  Even though I was in pain, I was hopeful, and faithful, and I KNEW that it was going to happen.  I knew that I would get pregnant.

Everyone kept telling me that my time was coming.  I remember calling my mom after a negative test and she kept telling me that my time was coming and I just has to be patient, because she knew that I was going to get pregnant soon.  People would remind me that there was always a chance, always that little percentage of hope that would get me pregnant.  My world was that little number.  My world was that hope.

And now it never will.  It will never happen.  I am never going to get pregnant.  There will be no more pluses or minuses on pieces of plastic, no more temperature taking, no more pills and sperm counts and wondering and worrying.  No more of that.

And no more pain (I hope).

Was it worth it?  I thought I was SO ready for this, but this person the surgery left behind?  This isn't me.  I don't know this barren women whose whole world of hope and faith is just...gone.  What do I look forward to now? School?  Adoption? Vacations?  They somehow just seem....less.  Less than that hope, less than that dream.

So this is me now.  I get up and write and read and go for walks.  Despite my slight depression over everything lately I am very much looking forward to starting the adoption process next month.  I still keep my toes pink...but none of the polish seems as bright anymore.  I still watch what I eat, but not because I might be pregnant.  Thats the real killer.  Before this...there was always that chance...that possibility, that I was carrying a little piece of me.  Never again.

So I will paint, go to school, read, maybe even get another hobby.  Anything to get me over this hump.  Something has to be able to do that.

Right?

"Always be a first-rate version of yourself, instead of a second-rate version of somebody else."

~ Judy Garland