Reasons to be grateful while in a dark place

It’s official. I am depressed. I said it. Maybe admitting it is half the battle? 

I know this because the other night I asked my husband. We were walking the dog on a beautiful summer night where the air feels like a warm, scented bath. I know this because often I feel like I am going through the motions. Like trying to be just happy on a beautiful warm summer night with M and pup. 

My question to him opened the floodgates for him to tell me how he feels. That was a bit hard to hear but helpful. It’s only fair. He is frustrated and wants to help. He feels like I don’t enjoy the small things I used to and some of the other small everyday frustrations things seem to be magnified into big bad things. While I make it to work, I don’t spend as much time with my friends. I am more bitter and down, and he thinks it is getting worse not better. I make him feel bad in how I respond to him sometimes, especially about his work schedule. Too curt, too critical and too “whatever” (shoulder shrug)

Last night I did see two of my friends over dinner. Today, C and I emailed back and forth. She knows that I am struggling with the miscarriages, infertility and a stressful job that I need to keep the new roof over our heads. For different reasons, she has been untangling herself from her own vicious cycle. She said — that as cheesy as it sounds — it has helped her to keep a gratitude journal. So in honour of C and her kind, wise counsel and support. I am grateful:

- my dog always always greets me with a happy wag and jump no matter how unlovable I feel

- I live in Canada where at least some of the infertility expenses are paid (surprisingly none of the recurrent miscarriage testing is)

- hey, so I guess I need to add that my job pays well enough that I can afford the testing

- the young raccoons now apparently living part time on our shed have not discovered how delicious almost ripe tomatoes still -on- the- vine are

- That we CAN get pregnant with the help of clomid and other drugs because the more times we can get pregnant, the better our odds

- that the people who say “I know someone who had 4, 5, 10 miscarriages but still had a baby” mean well and are only trying to make us feel hopeful 

- that my legs still look great in high heel sandals and skirt (thanks for the genetics, mom! ) 

- that my husband has a great sperm count. Hey, I need the medical help to ovulate. At least I know when it’s time, his boys have the right stuff.