I have always been a very driven goal-oriented person, I know what I want, and I work towards that – sounds like a recipe for success right? What if that goal turns out to be unattainable or unsustainable? What do you do? Countdown to breakdown 3, 2, 1…
Growing up, I valued career. Seeing a generation of women in business, rocking their shoulder pads, pumps, and sports cars, the image was intoxicating. I was determined, I was going to look good, and I was going to be a boss, and those things were heavily intertwined.
Coming out of university, I hit a wall. I came into a workforce that was on the tail end of a recession. The job search was competitive, and salaries were low. When I was 23, I landed a job that I thought would be my big break. The interview was a group interview, 10 candidates had to work through case studies to show that they were the best fit for the position, and I won. I got the job, and I couldn’t believe it. In hindsight, this interview was genius, create a line up outside of a bakery and people will join, doesn’t matter if they are serving turd pies. Well, turns out this job was a turd pie. I worked in a highly competitive environment, the hours were long, and pay was rough. One day, I did the math, with the overtime that I was working, I was making $6 an hour. This was when I started to question my “boss” dream.
I was getting burnt out. I was 24, working 10-hour days, living with a roommate, and barely affording my life, and my suits weren’t even that great. I started to get sick, I lost dramatic amounts of weight and developed migraines. When the migraines first hit, I was terrified, the left side of my face went numb and drooped. I went to the hospital, the neurologist, all tests came back normal. I was scared and I genuinely hated what I was doing. I started to look at the boss dream, past the beautiful women, past the illusion of power, and it turned out that the motivations behind this dream, were not motivating to me. The money didn’t motivate me. Being strapped for cash, I longed for financial stability, but nothing more. In those times of despair, I realized that what mattered most to me were relationships. I felt best when I was supporting others and taking care of people.
While the idea of the life I wanted came crashing down, I was getting more serious with my now husband. My husband and I started dating at 22, he was different from anyone I had dated before. He did not need me, at all. He was independent, he had his own friends, his own life, and his own hobbies. Our relationship developed slowly, we grew our friendship, trust, love, and foundation while we developed personally. And for that I am truly grateful. I had my 20s to have fun, fall on my face, and figure out my shit without being tied to someone else. My 20s were for me. Towards the end of that era, I knew myself and knew what I valued, and that was family, given or found. I was going to be a wife and mother, I was going to crush it, and everything else was peripheral.
I got married when I was 27 and the first 2 years were pure bliss. We bought our first home and figured out how to take care of it together. 2 years into our marriage we decided that we were ready to have kids. A year later with no success we started to worry. We knew people who had to wait for their kids or go to a fertility clinic to get pregnant, good things take time, and that’s ok. We decided to go to a fertility clinic, just to make sure things were ok. This started with blood tests and ultrasounds, everything looked fine, but it still wasn’t working. We moved on to the next option IUI. For those of you who have not been through this, for an IUI, they take a “sample” from your husband, clean out any debris, and they use a syringe to shoot the sperm into your uterus. Well. The turkey baster didn’t work either. My file was reviewed again, we were all confused as to why this wasn’t working. It was then that the Doctor said, “have you thought about getting surgery for your endometriosis?”, well no, this was the first I was hearing about having endometriosis. It was missed. Two months later I was in the operating room, I had three incisions through which the surgeon removed my endometriosis, the surgery was successful. Onto the next hurdle.
The next step was to take medicine that would put me into menopause for 3 months. The menopause was supposed to stop my cycle so that the endometriosis didn’t grow back. This was rough. Lots of sweating, lots of puking, lots of tears. Many calls to the Doctor saying, “is it ok that I can’t feel my legs?”, “Is it ok that I am throwing up every day?”, to which the answer was always the same; “yes, that’s a normal side effect”. After what seemed like a lifetime, I was ready to come out of menopause, thank you Lord, and take a step towards the next stage in our fertility journey which was IVF.
IVF sucks. It is very difficult to live a normal life when you are doing IVF. The side effects are terrible, but hope carries you through. This time it’s going to happen, I’m going to get pregnant, after 5 years, we’re finally going to have our baby. Spoiler alert, we didn’t get our baby.
Once again, we were called in to talk to the Doctor, and once again we were told, “I am not sure why this isn’t working?”. Well, that sucks. At this point, the Doctor suggested that we go through more testing, let’s do AI testing on the embryos and send our blood samples overseas where they can do testing that we do not have available here in Canada. More money, more tests, 5 years down and not a step closer to our goal. This was a huge blow. This is when my hope bottomed out and the questioning of yet another dream began. I am face to face with a tough question and I can’t turn away. What if my dream of becoming a mother doesn’t happen?
So here I am, wondering what the hell am I doing if I’m not going to be a mother? For 5 years I have worked diligently towards this goal. I have made a million sacrifices, my body, my mind, my money. I have missed trips, holidays, girls’ nights. I’ve worked hard, but my career is not my priority, my career was a means to an end. My thought was always, work hard so that I have the money for fertility. Work hard so that I have a good steady job to support my children. I have a house with 3 empty bedrooms for my non-existing children. Awkward. Painful. Lots to clean.
So, what now? Where do I put my energy? What do I like? Do I need a big house? Who am I? I suppose it’s time to pull down the metaphorical dream board and reevaluate what really matters to me. If Taylor swift can reinvent herself every era with the scrutiny of the entire world, surely I can do it in front of my small community right? So, what’s next? Truthfully, I don’t have a clue. Maybe I should get myself some bedazzled boots?
