Blind sided

Well i think now that there's no point pretending to myself that this isn't a fertility blog. I think I need to just accept that and go with the flow, hoping that it might be in some way therapeutic.
I went back to work today after my op, and this afternoon suffered what I think is about as close as I've ever got to a nervous breakdown. It was all going so well... I was almost bouncing off the walls this morning, feeling great. Feeling like I'd had a good week of rest and managed to get some perspective back in my life. Boy, was I deluding myself.

Over lunch I sent an email to the lady who leads the Guide unit I assist with. She'd already mentioned that her old assistant wanted to come back this term, which would now make 4 of us. I was emailing her to see how she'd feel if I looked for another unit, who might need my help more. (There's such a dirth of volunteers for Girlguiding - if you're interested, let me know!). She wrote back to say that after Christmas there would only be 3 of us again, as she's expecting.

WHAM! I don't think I've ever been quite so affected by a pregnancy announcement before. I've suffered, sure, but I've always been able to hold it together. It's not like I don't like this lady - I really do - and yet news of her happiness just plunged me into a pit of depression. 'Why not me, why not me, why not me', going round my head like a mantra. I started to cry at my desk, right out in the open in the middle of the office. Luckily no-one was immediately around, so I managed to dry my eyes a bit and make a dash for the toilet, where I then sat for 20 minutes in hysterics. Eventually I realised I was just going to have to go home. I went to tell my manager and then cried on her shoulder for 10 minutes too. She is so compassionate, and it helps a lot although in some ways makes it easier to fall apart, I suppose. My department is so incredibly female, (and also incredibly fertile at the moment - 5 pregnancies in the last 12 months - HELL), which has its advantages, and disadvantages.

The bear works at the same place as me, so I saw him before leaving (to give him bus fare as I was taking the car). He just looked so worn out by it all, as though he was thinking 'here we go again, I thought she was making some progress' (I expect that was a bit of transference, he didn't actually say so). i felt as though if I were a celeb I'd be booking myself right into the Priory, so on my way home I drove past my turning, and straight on to the doctor.

I thought he'd probably tell me to relax, and send me on my way, but actually he was great. He told me it was good that I had asked for help, and was incredibly understanding and nice - and kept the Kleenex flowing. He's given me a prescription for some anti-depressants that are baby-safe (just in case) and some sleeping tablets to take the edge of the night anxiety attacks I've been having. I haven't even taken one yet, but I feel better knowing I have them - like I've been thrown a lifeline. I didn't want to go down the medication route unless I had to, but I've just been finding it increasingly hard to cope with my feelings by myself, and I just look forward to at least a month where the edges are just rubbed a little smoother.

In my blog of a couple of days ago, I mentioned not wanting to become the crazy lady who just thinks about babies all the time, and now I realise that it's no always about what you want. I guess nobody ever really wants to go crazy! I know I'm a long way off the psych ward just yet, but I realise how fragile the mind can be, and how if the pressure just keeps building up, it's going to blow eventually, no matter how hard you try to tell it you're fine.