Infertility is my Belly Button

Contentment.

More and more, I’m learning how terrible I am with this concept. I have *almost* everything I could ever want or need. I have the most fantastic husband I could ask for. He spoils me rotten (he’s letting me get the iPhone 5s next week!), he cooks for me, cleans for me, works on his Masters degree, works at his job, teaches classes, hugs me, kisses me, supports me through everything. He is seriously amazing. I know, you’re all jealous. We have a house that doesn’t leak, keeps the cold/hot air out and keeps the warm/cool air in. We have two crazy dogs who are so excited to see us, even if we’ve only been gone for a few minutes. We have two cars that work most of the time. We both have jobs, insurance, food, and clothing. We both have interests, hobbies, projects. We both have families who love and support us. And yet, in the midst of all of these amazing people/animals/things we’ve been blessed with, I still have this nagging hole in my heart and mind.

We bought a big house so we would have room for our kids. We got jobs so we could pay for their food and fun adventures as a family. Sam is working on his degree so that we can easily afford for me to stay home with the kids. All of our plans, or at least all of mine, are centered around people who don’t exist.

And when you’re planning for a future around people who don’t exist, how do you live your current life? I seem to spend most of my time cycling through periods of hope and despair and indifference, focussed inward on the hole. My mom used to talk about “Belly Button Syndrome.” She said there is a period in a baby’s development where they realize they have a belly button. It is fascinating to them. They can’t get their minds off of how amazing their belly button is. She said most people never leave that stage. They are fascinated by their own person, focussed inward on their own self (the good or the bad). They barely see the people around them, except to share with them the complete awesomeness of their belly button. I used to think I wasn’t like this. I thought I looked around, congratulated others on their belly buttons, aware that I had one of my own but not focussed on it. I have come to realize lately that infertility is my belly button.