I debated with myself if I should write this. But, I always feel better after I write, and I haven't posted in a while, so here goes.
I call it the "Shattered Heart" effect.
Mr. Salt and I visited my aunt's house for Christmas. The house was full, I was expecting my side (i.e. my mother's side) of the family to be around. But, my aunt's husband's family was there too. No big deal, just means I can't 'visit' with the family as I would like. Too many people around.
So after the obligatory hugs and kisses between my aunts (younger, whom I'm referring to now, and older, who I'll get to in a minute), grandma, and cousin, I get drawn to a side room I realized now after all this that I was trying to get away. Maybe I sensed something.
Younger Aunt: I have something to tell you.
Y. Aunt: I'm expecting twins.
Instantly, I felt my heart literately break. The Shattered Heart Effect struck again. The Shattered Heart Effect when something causes me extreme deress.
Nobody noticed the fake smile I pasted on my face as my immediate family surrounded my younger aunt with excited tones. Nobody noticed how quiet I got, not really cotributing to the good cheer. Nobody noticed when I excused myself(twice) from the grand announcement to the rest of the family to go to the restroom and cry my heart out. Nobody noticed my red eyes, or how I clung to Mr. Salt.
I felt so alone.
I felt crushed, but so guilty. My aunt has a one year son already, and now she's having twins? I can't get just one! But why am I not happy for her? Why do look at her with envy?
This, as you can see, caused me extreme duress. Why, you ask?
I've talked about it here. My PCOS prevents me from having a regular cycle, and how my chances of having kids drop if I don't take the require meds.
Also, Mr. Salt and I have been wanting zhindians for a while now. This year, we're really getting serious about it. For me to have even a chance, I have to be serious about taking all my meds, even though they make me nauseous, and have some interesting side effects. Looking at my pill box, I have to take five pills a day right now, dropping to four once I induce a cycle. There's insiline resistance drugs, prenatal drugs, and progesterone to reboot the system, as I call it.
All this for a Zhindian. Which will be worth it. But now, I hurt.
And what bothers me is that no one, besides Mr. Salt, saw how hurt I was. Granted, I'm good at hiding it, but when Mr. Salt decides that leaving the celebration is good for my well being, no pings to radar went off. I guess everyone was wrapped up with the celebration to notice.
And, just when I thought my older (and the nosiest) aunt was going to ask me what's wrong (she had dragged me to a quiet room to talk), all she asks was if Mr. Salt and I were having any money problems, how long my hair is getting, and my job. If I ever thought about opening up to her, it stopped just because of it. I know my eyes were red during the whole evening.
And nobody asked why.
Sigh. I'm rambling, but tha's what blogs are for. Hopefully, I'll have good news to share someday. But for now, I'll just pray.