Sunday, December 14, 2014

Like It Never Happened

Just survived a visit from the in-laws, they of the pretend-it-never-happened camp. My MIL thought that the parking space for mothers with infants at my local supermarket was appropriate conversation fodder. And while we waited with H for a visit with Santa, she wanted to make sure I saw the little baby Uggs the store had on display.

I do not have an explanation for this behavior. There seems to be a general avoidance of emotions in the family. Not like: Soldier on. More like: Brush it under whatever's nearby.

I do know that on a few occasions, I wanted to walk into the room of all of them sitting around talking about inside-baseball family goings-on and scream, Do you realize that a member of this family is sitting in a freezer right now?

I should have.

What they and basically everyone need to know about me, from this point forward is this: Wherever I go, whatever I do, there is someone missing.


Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Please Ignore the Tragedy

Every once in a while I realize with a bit of a jolt that for three days I walked around knowing he was dead inside of me. I showed up at my best friend's house to wait for my D&E in my old hometown, because I couldn't find someone I trusted to do it here. We all sat around a table and had dinner together.


It seems like that can't be real.

I just think, how do we find the will to endure these things?

Thursday, November 13, 2014

They Sure Make It Hard to Move On

If you ever think that I just let myself wallow, please know that I try very hard, every day, to enjoy all the things in my life that I know make me a lucky girl. And I do.

But as a wise man once said, there's always something there to remind me.

Was just shopping online for ribbon to trim a Christmas wreath with, and was feeling rather lighthearted about it. And then the Pottery Barn Baby crib set I had been pondering when my baby died popped up for whatever illogical reason (thanks a lot universe and also stupid stupid google programmers), and now I'm going to have a glass of wine.

Sunday, November 9, 2014

This Christmas

I just received an invitation to a perinatal loss holiday remembrance service at the hospital where my peri is, where we got the devastating news. While I think it's lovely that they offer such a thing as a comfort to women in my shoes, I will not be going.

I just can't imagine anything more gut-wrenching or less satisfying than sitting with all of these other families with sad stories, mourning people we loved fiercely but never really knew. After all, there isn't really much to remember. I was robbed of that. So I'm sure there are people who would benefit from such a service, but to me no good can come of it.

But this Christmas, I just refuse to let it bring me down. It will not win. Instead of soaking in grief, I will be marinading in the pure joy that is Christmas through my four-year-old's eyes. This is prime time. And though there will be moments of sadness, of realization that there is a whole imaginary track of my life that isn't playing out as it should be, there is also so much to celebrate.

I put the invitation in the shredder. It felt kind of good.

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Why I Can't Let Go

Some time ago, I realized the best thing to do when I'm making a decision is to step away from it a bit and see how it feels. Whether it's buying a new coat or assessing a career move, if I stop thinking about it after a couple of days, I know I wasn't very attached to it in the first place. Because if I truly want something, it lingers. Persists. Sometimes takes over all my waking moments.

You'd think after all the torture I've been through on my road to parenthood, I'd have an easier time walking away now, calling the game, settling into my happy life with my one, gorgeous child. The fact that I haven't let go yet tells me this is not some optional pursuit in the course of my life. This has to do with the very vision I've long held of my life itself. I want my son to have a sibling. I believe I should be a mother of two. It still feels like there's someone missing, and just because it's been a rough go doesn't make it easy to walk away from that.

There's this whole thing around infertility/recurrent loss where people are made to feel they're greedy for "pushing their luck" and trying for another after receiving the miracle of a first. And it sort of enrages me. You wouldn't walk up to some random fertile and ask them why they believe they're entitled to a second child, so why is that suggestion made when the path is less smooth? Others, whether they've had problems or not, are no more entitled to it than I -- they've just gotten lucky. But if getting rejected by a first-choice law school (even with the right LSAT scores) doesn't stop people from becoming lawyers, why should I give up on my dream of a family of four?

Just to be perfectly clear, I am grateful beyond words, every day, for my H. I look at him and know now, more than ever, that he is a gift -- and we celebrate that every day. But he had something taken away from him in March, too. A whole world disappeared in that horrible moment when they told us there was no heartbeat. An entire trajectory of our lives has ceased to exist.

I still want him to have a sibling. I still believe in it as one believes in a vision of her life. And call me crazy, but I want to experience all the highs and lows of early childhood all over again, with the added dimension of H taking part. And so the options toward that are expanding; I am trying to think of possible paths toward surrogacy, along with adoption (which has always been a possibility, but doesn't solve the problem of our unused embryos, so I'm trying to sort through that). I still believe this is possible, and I stand ready, my heart and arms open.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Collateral Damage

If you think that the only shit to clean up after a miscarriage is of the psychological nature, you are wrong.

Here's what else there is:

-A baby bump to get rid of, without a baby to make it worth it. I've been thin my whole life, and I'm not going to lie, I've liked it that way. I was just -- just -- recovered physically from H's birth to the point where I recognized myself last fall. Then IVF, 1.5 trimesters of pregnancy and all the wine and ice cream sundaes I drowned my sorrows in afterward...and I'm not thin. I feel horrible, and I know I don't look like a thin person, and the worst part of that is there is no apparent explanation for it. I sort of want to have a t-shirt made that says "I'm fat because I had a miscarriage." I know this all sounds very vain, but there it is.

-As a result, wardrobe issues to contend with. As soon as the procedures were over, I wanted back in normal clothes. I would literally burn my maternity clothes if I didn't think there was a modicum of chance that we may still use a surrogate, and it might cut costs to ask her if she can wear some of the clothes we have. But I'm definitely not back in my normal clothes, either -- at least not the sizes I was wearing last fall. So I've had to buy fat clothes, and let me tell you, it is physically painful to do this.

-Bills to pay. There's a whole big billing mess with my fertility clinic that I might make you suffer through at some point; the short story is that they wouldn't actually take the insurance plan they said they took when I signed up for it, so we ended up owing $1,300 to them this year for the pregnancy monitoring. And other bills keep trickling in. I just received one from the perinatologist's office for $400+ for two ultrasounds; it's incorrect, so I am now in a super fun phone war with them to correct it. Oh, and my insurance company is still dragging their heels on paying out for the laminaria procedure pre-D&E, because apparently they think just for fun I went to the hospital one evening to have seaweed sticks shoved in my cha cha so they could safely remove my dead baby. I can't tell you what it does to my soul to have these arguments with these people. What I really want to do is tell them to pound sand.

-Stuff still in the attic. There are bins upon bins of stuff up there that I would love to sell, but still can't, because if we do make one of these embryos into a person it will be a boy, and the thought of buying that stuff all over again makes me want to go to sleep right now. So we remain in limbo, not using those things but not free to sell them, either.

-Just the general shitiness of living in a super fertile town where everyone has lots of kids and many people seem to take that for granted. I am reminded everywhere I go that we are different, and not in an electively cool alternative/hip/indie way. Different in a mother-nature-shit-on-us way.

To counter all of this suckage, I am in the process of getting a puppy. Which isn't going to make it go away, but is going to make things a little bit cuter.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Stuck.

I haven't written, because I'm not sure what to say.

The clinic won't do it. They won't let us take my friend's other-worldly offer to carry our baby.

I can't get into the particulars -- this is a real person who has been through enough scrutiny and discussion around her reproductive system. We knew all along that she wasn't the "ideal" candidate on paper that you'd get by going through an agency. She was ideal in every other way -- every way that matters in someone you're considering putting your embryo in -- but something in her pregnancy past gave the doctors pause. And ultimately, after a lengthy review, the risks spooked the docs too much to give us the green light.

What can I say about another heartbreak? About all this torture with nothing to show? About having to say no to someone offering to make you a baby when you can't do it yourself? About the fact that we're left with four frozen embryos, and all I can think about is the fact that one of them might look like his brother H -- but we'll probably never know?

I get up every day and give it my all. I haven't missed a beat with work. I laugh and eat and read and exercise and even enjoy myself a lot of the time. My life is good. But someone is missing.


 
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