Saturday morning I woke up to an email from my aunt, I will not copy all of it, but here is some of it...
My grownup baby niece! I was almost afraid to read your email. I am certainly glad I did. How insightful you are. But what a tough way to have to be so mature when you are still so young.
This email sent me into a bout of uncontrollable sobbing. I guess you never know when it will happen. All I know is I haven't cried that hard in a very long time. I needed it, it was time. So, I got in the car with Sage and we drove and after a while the sobbing turned to tears, and eventually I stopped crying. Then we went for a nice long walk and I found myself okay again.
After I calmed down I realized that there is a little tiny piece of me in mourning. Some may wonder how that is possible, how do you mourn for something you have never had. I was crying over the fact that after almost 18 months of putting my all into something, I still have nothing to show for it. I was crying for my husband who is having a hard time dealing with both of our sadness. I cried for "us" and the fact that we have to be put through something like this. I cried because it isn't an option for us not to have children. I don't want to have to go through multiple IVFs, but I am meant to be a mother, P is meant to be a father. I cannot bare the thought of living without children. And I cried because so many people are no longer sending out pregnancy announcements; these pregnancy announcements have become baby announcements. People are no longer just pregnant, now they are having babies. I don't know what I expected would happen. That these people would just be pregnant forever? Or maybe I just thought that at this point we would at least have a little belly to show off, and all this other "stuff" would be a distant memory.
The sadness this "thing" we are going through is unexplainable. This "thing" has taken away the excitement of having a baby. It has taken away from us the pure joy of, "Surprise," we made a baby! It will not be a surprise when we get pregnant. It will be part of a well concocted plan, only confirmed by lots of bloodwork and ultrasounds. I pray every night this plan will work, but as many know, these plans are not foolproof. No matter how much I do to control the situation, the outcome is out of my hands, and that is a difficult thing to deal with.
I can only imagine the joy we will feel when we finally hold our little baby in our hands for the first time, but I can't help but feel a little jaded. I know it will all be worth it, and I will realize that every detour in the road will be one that ended up leading us to our little baby, but right now I can't understand it. I don't understand any of it.
Yet through it all, I am okay. I think we all need to allow ourselves to cry, to feel sad, to mourn, and then when we feel ready, we need to make the choice to dust ourselves off and enter the real world again. For me, I was able to put my sadness to the side and enjoy the sun the weekend brought us. I was able to remind myself that I am a fighter. These past 18 months have tested me in ways I never thought I would be able to handle. They have forced me to grow up; forced me to deal with raw feelings and emotions I had been lucky enough to be shielded from for the most part, growing up. But, no one can protect you from infertility, no one can take the pain away. It's yours, and yours alone. So, every morning I have to tell myself that I can do this. Every morning I have to remind myself we aren't going through this for nothing. Even when the light at the end of the tunnel seems so far away, I can still see it, and it keeps me going. I just keep praying that light never disappears...it CAN'T disappear.
Now, it's Monday night, the end of Memorial Day. I had a great weekend topped off with a shopping trip with my mom, but now it is quiet. We have the windows open, and it is quiet. Occasionally a car goes by, but I am surrounded by silence. While some reading this will think, enjoy it while it lasts, I disagree. This quiet is not comforting or relaxing, this quiet doesn't feel right. This quiet feels wrong. I never noticed it before, but it is here and it needs to go away. It needs to be replaced with noise, lots and lots of noise.
Thinking of you guys and hope that soon your house will be filled with giggles and the sounds of baby feet :-) Hang in there!
ReplyDeleteYou can totally mourn something you have never had. Just like you it hit me out of nowhere and I understood why I was so sad. A few months before we started treatment. I was grieving the loss of conceiving a child "naturally". Grieving the months of disappointment and what we have been through. Grieving what was yet to come.
ReplyDeleteI know it is difficult and it took me a while to think this way too, but even though we will be conceiving with the help of Drs and be following a strict plan it still will be a surprise. When that day comes that you get the call with a positive beta it may be different from the "normal" way, but it will be a big happy surprise. Thinking about you often. Hugz!
I agree with Emily.. I too grieved, and still grieve from time to time. Sometimes it just takes someone acknowledging your struggle, and that alone allows you to release everything you've been holding in. Sending big hugs your way :)
ReplyDeleteIt is totally okay and normal to grieve the loss of innocents in the fertility world. No one should have to fight us ... no one should have to have the losses we do ... and when you get to a point, and you realize that "natural" won't happen and "intervention" is needed ... it's a loss of how easy it should have been.
ReplyDeleteI hope you find some comfort and good luck on your journey!
Happy ICLW from #3
I believe the only people who tell others to "enjoy x" are those that came into something desired so easily. Emily is right, you're grieving. Grieving the loss of something you've been working your butt off for. IF changes people. It's a process that few will never undertake and yet it changes who we are and what type of parents we will be. In a lot of ways, I believe our society would benefit for embracing infertility more, from having to work for children. Because, all too often, we take them for granted. What comes too easy quickly turns into a burden.
ReplyDeleteI firmly believe that your children will know how much they were wanted and what gifts they are. And that knowledge can help a child excel in life, giving them the courage to pursue their dreams. Hold tight to this. That there will never be a day that you won't look on them in awe. Because that's amazing and I know you will be an amazing mom. You already are.
Such a beautiful post... It brought me to tears - for you, for all of us... for this damned IF. Mourning lost hope is real and so so painful... it is true grief and you are so wise and such an inspiration. Love to you always xoxo
ReplyDeleteThis is such a beautiful and such a sad post. I hope you achieve your dream of parenthood soon.
ReplyDeleteICLW #65
I SO feel you on the grieving. When I'm having my toughest, filled with utter hopelessness days, that's my grief. I too have mourned the loss of my fertility innocence and feelings that it will not happen without medical help. It's a tough thing to grasp. Please be kind to yourself as you work through these emotions. Embrace the quiet. Let it act as a band aid to heal your wounds. You are such a beautiful person and you ARE meant to be a mommy.
ReplyDeleteCar rides and long walks with Zoe always help me too. It is hard for people to understand that we are sad for something that we never truly had or lost. Just another aspect of the whole IF journey. I was talking with someone the other day about the whole not getting the typical shock of finding out you are pregnant when you are dealin with pills, shots, ultrasounds and knowing exactly when to test. It sucks and its not fair but it is the hand we are dealt I guess. Hopefully your last days of school go fast and July gets here even faster!!
ReplyDeleteI am thinking of you Lindsay.
ReplyDeleteMaybe you are mourning your dreams and your plans. They are things you did have, and you lost. Well, you lost them in a way - they're changing. It takes time to embrace the new ones.
I know what you mean about the quiet feeling wrong - feeling like a void insead of peace. I also believe that you will be a great mom. I hope that day comes very soon for you and P.
I've read scientific studies that liken the depression that comes with infertility to being given a terminal diagnosis. I've read other writings about how one suffering from infertility cannot move past the loss because the scab is picked off every time we get our unwanted period, every time someone announces a pregnancy or a delivery, and everytime we calculate where we could have been in life, had things worked out quickly. it's a cycle of sadness and mourning that doesn't get better over time becuase it's not linear. so allow yourself the time to grieve. you are entitled to grieve. you are missing out on something you want and need. you are watching others snatch up - sometimes easily - what you want so badly.
ReplyDeletei keep telling myself that once we have our take home baby / babies, it won't matter what we had to go through to get them. we will love them and will, at that point, start to move lineally away from the grief.
xoxoxoxo
Thinking of you! It's so difficult, sometimes a good cry really does help!
ReplyDeleteThis journey is so, so hard. A good cry is def necessary for sanity. Thinking of you.
ReplyDelete