the thick of it.

I sat there, holding a pee stick and shaking my head like an etch a sketch. 'How am I going to get through this one?' The phrase replayed in my head over and over. Just like most young women, I have been through a lot of moments when my life was surely coming to an end. I can't tell you how many times I have said to myself "you really can't fix this Tarah". The difference now was that I actually wanted to. I was done messing up. I was tired of chasing hurt and finding excuses to be alone. This wasn't something that I wanted to run away from or erase. This was something I wanted to run into, if only I could figure out how.

 As I sat there, fighting the overwhelming side affects of the anti depression medication, I tried to plan. I planned to pull myself together before my love came home from work so I could  tell him we were going to be parents. Then, I planned motherhood as a single self employed woman with chronic pain. I mourned the loss of the all the doors I finally opened in my career. Lastly, I googled "fibromyalgia+motherhood". I read, tears streaming down my face as woman opened up about their struggles. They spoke about their guilt for staying in bed or not being able to play. They spoke about trying medication after medication and being so tired they couldn't even read their children bedtime stories. They described a life where you can have everything you have ever wanted, but rarely could enjoy it. 

That's when I heard the key in the door, it was 4 am. I was laying in our bed surrounded by tissues trying to hide the tears. I couldn't find any words when he asked me why I was so upset. I didn't really know where to start. Looking back now I wish I had written him a list. Instead he just held me while I tried my best to fall asleep.