Coping with work and infertility
For the past two years I’ve felt pretty damn exhausted and stressed. It’s no wonder that life hasn’t come from me. I think my body is barely holding itself, let alone another.
With commitments and financial responsibilities, giving up work hasn’t been an option .. until now. Even now it’s not ideal. I’m a worrier and so I’m sitting here picturing the worst. We’re going to be broke, I’m going to miss my financial independence and it’s going to be a struggle. Work has defined me, I’ll be lost when people ask ‘What do you do?’ I won’t get maternity pay – should I by some miracle fall pregnant. I’ve arrived at a fork in the road and I don’t know what to do.
Weighing up health and happiness
Last night when I sat with my friend and she weighed up potentially applying for a role in San Francisco, I looked at my own scales too. Even she knew the joy of just one child would outweigh what I’m achieving by running the machine.
So ladies … after shaking a magic 8 ball a million times as I’m so indecisive, today I’ll be telling my boss that I’ll be handing in my notice shortly. I’ll initially ask him to consider reducing my hours. I’m scared they’ll ask why, then judge me and react secretly with a ‘O God she’s trying to get pregnant!’ without quite realising what a nightmare infertility is. I also fear they’ll prefer to get someone in who doesn’t have all this extra baggage. Maybe I’ll hold back details for now.
Just as I finish writing these ramblings, a pregnant woman sits across me with her baby on board badge. I’ll take that as a sign to keep to plan even when doubt creeps in because I (like you) hope to be wearing that badge sometime soon.
Wish me luck.