Anxiety Overload

Seriously...I am so anxious I feel sick and could cry.

Is no news good news?

No news on my Dad.
No news from KCC.
And still BFN on hpt.

Seriously. I can't take this. I feel nauseated. Because it means more time to dream of things going wrong. All the while praying for the best, praying for good things to be coming my way.

15 months a mark I thought I would never reach is only a few short days around the corner. I want my take home rainbow baby damn it!

I want my dad to be okay.

I want to hear from KCC.

I want, I want, I want. But will I receive? I am knocking and asking...God answer my prayers kindly please.

I am beyond frustrated and fed up. It doesn't seem fair that James and I have to struggle Lord. I am angry, and James is at the place again where we need to love you no matter how many miscarriages we have. And he is right. But I feel broken. Broken and unloved at times. I don't need to hear about how God loves me, I know he does. But I still feel this way sometimes.

Same with my Dad. Nothing has he done that condones me being anxious for him. Other than the fact that I am half of his chromosomes. He was far from an exemplary father. He was an ass. Yet, guess what? I still love him. Seriously. I haven't spoken to him warranted for 3 years now. Avoided him even. He chose not to come to my wedding. He cheated on my mother. He punched me in the jaw. He told me that men would only want me for sex, when I was in 7th grade mind you. I saw him throw a hammer at a TV. Break a cologne bottle because he was pissed. Toss a whole pan of Hamburger Helper into the trash because us kids "Didn't leave him enough." I saw him grab a screw driver, then go outside, and low and behold...there were popped tires on my moms car. When police were called? Their theory...popped with a screw driver. I had a friend over when he shot holes in his boat with a 9mm over the argument that he fished too much and we girl scouted too much. I remember cleaning up flour after mom and dad fought throwing it at each other. I remember him claiming that none of us, except for me, were his. I remember him throwing the phone at me and telling me to go ahead and call the cops on him, but I better be hiding when he got out. Telling him he was an ass, because I couldn't call due to the phone being broke. I remember standing up for myself. And hating men. But needing them at the same time. I remember hating my mom because she stayed. Because she wouldn't listen to us about Dad cheating. And my mom hating James because of all Dad had done to wound her. I remember him slamming her fingers in the dresser when we left to go to grandma's once, might have been the Hammer day. I remember dad telling me Mom shook me as a baby. Telling Stacey and Jo bad things about Mom so there would be problems at home, and so *maybe* they would choose him over her, and thus cut out his child support. I remember bad bad days in middle school and in high school because of him. I remember...so many hurtful painful memories because of the man I call my father, or rather my sperm donor.

I remember him crying and hugging me when Grandma Sawdy died. Occasional fun times together. But the mass of memories with him are bad. How do you get over that?

How is it that I got handed the shitty father card, and the infertility card? I know I got handed a good husband. A pretty good set of friends. And now a house. Good pets. Good siblings. And a demeanor that has for the majority of times allowed me to persevere among the deepest of pressures and stress. So really, they aren't the majority number wise. But they feel bigger.

And I feel small and weak.

And so so broken.