Archive for the ‘Hubby’ Category

h1

Becky and Mabel: The epic struggle

September 9, 2009

Pregnancy discussed.

Lately it feels like I have multiple personalities, and they don’t get along. There’s Becky. She has two ponytails laced with ribbons and wears a pink cheerleader outfit. She has two giant pom poms and loves daisies, springtime, and kittens. Then there’s Mabel. She wears black, paints her fingernails purple, smokes cigarettes in the girls bathroom. She loves beating up freshmen, killing bunnies, and glaring. A typical day:

Becky: Nausea! I have nausea! This is good!
Mabel: Uh yeah, sure. If you didn’t eat so fucking much you’d feel fine.
Becky: The ultrasound will be so exciting!
Mabel: (Yawn) Because seeing a heartbeat means something right?
Becky: Ooh I’m getting stretchy feelings in my uterus, it must be growing!
Mabel: Or you’re about to have a miscarriage, you idiot.
Becky: Katery put up pictures of her crib. I can’t wait to crib shop.
Mabel: You are not her. You have no business dreaming.
Becky: But this could be it!
Mabel: But it’s probably not, so burn the damn pom pom before I stuff you in a locker.

For the past two weeks I’ve been doing pretty good about keeping Becky stuffed in the boys locker room. But Jack, he’s so hopeful lately and as much as I try to resist its contagious. He’s named it sunflower. He’s figured out the approximate due date. He talks to it. He didn’t do this last time. After we lost Speck he said he’d never do it again so I don’t get why he’s doing it now. I don’t want to tell him not to because seeing him excited fills me with so much warmth, but at the same time the fucking pom poms come out and I actually start looking at the gerber ad on TV and think I’m gonna hand make my baby food. These thoughts are always followed by a quick reprimand to Becky to stop this silly hope business. I’m fine with you sitting in a corner emitting gentle rays, but to leap up and start doing the macarena? No! No! No! You’ve had two losses and you’re at higher risk for a third. Protect your fucking heart. What the hell is wrong with you?

So yes, it seems that multiple losses leads to multiple personalities. I’m doing my best to manage both sides of myself, but if you see Becky jumping rope or flashing a toothy smile, trip her down the stairs, m’kay?

h1

Getting through the day

July 28, 2009

I thought going to work would do me some good. I wondered if immersing myself in work would help me escape. Today as I got out of the car in the parking lot I saw a baby seat in the car next to me and suddenly my breathing was so painful I thought a rib cracked. I couldn’t believe this is me, standing next to my car going pale trying to breathe in and out. Keeping the tears at bay is impossible business when there is a leaking dam behind your eyes. I have never had to take it one step at a time. I stood in the elevator and said just make it through this elevator ride. I got out and said good girl, now get to your office unlock it and get in. You can do it. I’ve never felt this fragile before.

Last night Jack and I had a very intense conversation. We really talked for the first time in months. For so long he’s been my rock and he told me sometimes he feels like that’s all he is, a rock for me while I deal with loss and infertility. He said he sees me obsessed with children and the fear of never having children and he wants to go back to how it was the first five years of our marriage when we were more than two organisms set on this planet to reproduce. He feels like I don’t care about him anymore, that all I care about is having a child. That I don’t appreciate our relationship anymore. I couldn’t believe he could think this. I thought how much I loved him was a given to him. I guess that’s the problem, I’ve let it become a given. I’ve taken it for granted. He said me focusing on this one area in which we lack spits on all the areas that are good and beautiful in our life. It’s not your fault, he keeps telling me.

How can I explain that I feel like a failure as a woman. At my basest core what sets me apart from a man is my ability to bear life. My breasts are to feed a child. My hips are to hold them and help their passageway into the world. I never imagined a life without children of my own. I feel I’ve failed at the most basic level of being a woman sometimes. I know this is logically not the case but sometimes it feels very much this way. He says not to blame myself but people never realize how subtly they do put the blame on me. The nurse in the ER said you didn’t wait long enough to try again. The ultrasound tech said you must stress out a lot, stress causes miscarriages. Well meaning friends say relax and it will happen. Simply saying this is all your fault you know? would be simpler and more to the point.

Jack says not to lose hope but to start focusing on other things in life, to let go of this obsession. I think maybe I need to do a little less hoping. Maybe I need to go into the darkest part of myself and face what life would be like without the one thing I thought with certainty I would someday have, children. Jack says if I do that then I’m giving up. I feel like I’m facing my darkest fear to put it to rest so that perhaps I will have peace. I’m not sure which way to go.

But Jack’s right, I am obsessed. I can’t focus on all the other great things in my life. I know them, I can list them out but I don’t feel them in my heart. He told me you’re a writer! you love to cook, you scrapbook, you work out, you read, you have more going on in your life than just this one thing. This is why he wants to take a break for a few months. We’re definitely taking a break until someone can tell me what’s wrong with me, but he said take a mental break from all of it, try to find out who I am again. Infertility and grief has been so all consuming this year in particular I dare say I really have forgotten who else I am besides a miscarrying infertile.

h1

This and that

June 19, 2009

Thanks to advice I received from my blogging community I talked to Jack and we’re seriously considering seeing an RE. I know a good one who worked wonders (i.e. two babies) for a friend of mine with PCOS, so I know he’s good. The only problem has been insurance doesn’t cover it and its a helluva pricey bill to foot. I felt if my OBGYN is giving me Metformin and I got pregnant under her watch, shouldn’t I just stick with her? I tell myself this but then I also feel she isn’t moving me along as fast as I would like. I have an appointment with her on Tuesday so we’ll see what she has to say. Jack said he supports me seeing an RE if I’m not pregnant this cycle, so we may do that depending on Tuesdays meeting.  Thank you so much for giving me advice guys. It’s thanks to this blog that I went to a new doctor when all this began. People told me to ditch a doctor who insisted I didn’t have anything wrong with me and be my own best advocate. Thanks to that I got diagnosed. So I appreciate it so much.

I went to see my therapist today and it helped me deal with how I’m feeling. I want to share some of it because I know many reading are dealing with IF and surely have felt as I do, and maybe some of this might help you. The first thing is I need to stop taking a HPT every day. The new rule for me is twice a cycle, one week apart, and I can only buy off the internet to prevent myself from going to CVS and buying a three pack. The effect of BFN every single morning can single handedly ruin my day. I should also limit my internet “researching” to 30 minutes a day and try to make weekends “research free” days. By research I mean googling for signs and symptoms, and scary stories and hopeful stories. To a certain point its good to know, but once you pass that point, you are not helping yourself, you are stuck. The most important one was not to talk about this incessantly with your spouse because if you stop and just fixate on one thing you are harming your marriage. A marriage is multifaceted and to make this the entire center of your life is unhealthy. He also said to find some peace through prayer, meditation, etc. I’m struggling hard to find my way back to spirituality. I once was strong but lately I am weak, this makes it harder to accept this as meant to be, a test, happening for a reason. I know I need to find a way to center myself. He also said exercise helps burn adrenaline and should be incorporated on the daily. I was exercising regularly but when you get depressed, you don’t want to do anything. I plan to resume again tomorrow.

I’m reading a book called “Get Off Your ‘But'” and this quote really struck me: Pain is inevitable. Eventually, it touches us all. Suffering, however, is optional. Lately, I’ve been suffering a lot. I accept that infertility is a pain that is my reality, but the suffering, I need to get a handle on it. I’m not sure how to do this yet, but I am starting to actively try.

h1

Tired. So Tired.

June 17, 2009

There is a constant ache in my heart. I can smile, I can laugh, I can behave like a functional member of society, but the truth is, inside I am constantly splintering into a million different peices. Rebuilding, then crushing like dust once more.

My body is playing tricks with me. Still exhausted. Still no period. Still sore boobs. Still thirsty. Still strange discharge. I woke up at 4am last night to pee. Only did that when I was pregnant. I took another test, BFN.

I know that PCOS means wonky cycles, but Metformin was supposed to fix that. The first few months on it, I had regular cycles. This troubles me: out of 12 possible cycles, my lengthy cycles give me around 8 chances and of those, with PCOS, who knows when I ovulated, if even? My doctor will fight me on progesterone to jumpstart this cycle. She will fight me on Clomid. If I can convince her I’ll need to first get an HSG test done, and Jack will need to get a Sperm Analysis. This will take many months. I won’t be on all of this until at least August.  The thought of this, of all the obstacles, and all the time, and all the uncertainty its tearing me apart.

I scheduled to see my therapist tomorrow. Jack was so happy when he found out. Ask him what I should do? Ask him how I can be a good partner for you. I asked him, Are you getting frustrated. He said, Honey, I love you but this is killing me. Your constant pain, your tears, I just don’t know what to do anymore. He said it with love and it broke my heart. I’m hurting. I’m hurting Jack. The thought of hurting this good man brings tears to my eyes.

I can’t keep doing this. I can’t live my life this way. I need to do some serious soul searching. I need to find a way to make peace with the facts of my life, with my condition, with the reality that I don’t know the future and that I may never have children. I wish I knew how to do this.

h1

Hit the crack pipe- again

June 15, 2009

Before I tell you, let me explain why I did it:

1. I had to pull my car en route to work because I felt so nauseous I was convinced I’d puke.

2. I’m sprouting acne. I NEVER had acne except when I was . . .

3. I’m on CD 34 and still no period.

4. My boobs are tender to the touch.

5. Oh yeah and I’m on CYCLE DAY 34 AND NO PERIOD!!

I was resolute in my plan to wait until Friday CD38 but the symptoms, I just couldn’t WAIT. I thought of Jack who has told me in no uncertain terms thou shalt not test until Friday, but waved it aside telling myself yeah, but when its POSITIVE then he won’t be mad! [I realize my reasoning is beginning to sound more and more like a 60 year old lady in a straw hat and yellow slippers hitting the slot machine]. I bought the test- a three pack. I sat around at work for approximately ten minutes and then POAS. And yeah, BFN.

Cycle Day34. It should be accurate today . . . right? I try to remind myself that I tested on CD33 when Speck lived in me, and didn’t know his presence until CD38. I’m so unsure which way to talk to myself. Do I talk myself into hope. Or begin mourning the loss of another missed opportunity this cycle. As an infertile, I find it quite difficult to hold the middle ground. It’s so difficult in fact, that I cannot see the middle ground.

So here I am, CD34. Annoyed. Sad. Frustrated. Curious. Hopeful. You name it. I’m it. Though the biggest fear is this, its’ not even the not being pregnant, its more the oh shit, I’m going to have to go through this again next month… and the next… and the next.

Except the worst, but hope for the best. It’s an old saying, but when you’re doing equal parts of both for 2-3 weeks straight, its enough to make you wish you were expecting and hoping for nothing at all.

h1

A perfect portrait but for the hole

June 11, 2009

Jack asked me today, Help me understand: You have a loving relationship with your brothers and parents, you and I get along wonderfully, you’re quitting a job you hate to pursue a dream, we travel the world together, and eat lots of delicious chocolate chip cookies. Your life is the same as it always was. Yes you want something, but even if you don’t get that, what you have, isn’t that good?

This is how I can explain. Imagine a drawing, a cartoon drawing you make as a kid. The portrait has a stick figure boy, and a girl, a big heart between them. Next to them is my parents and brothers all cute stick figures with big smiles. There is green grass and a lake nearby and fish swimming with wide grins. You see a house in the back with a little chimney, and I’m holding an album of “Our travels” in my hand. Now imagine a hole. A rip on the top right hand corner of the page. It’s a large hole. It does not take away from what’s drawn on the page but its there, and you can’t help but notice this ugly hole just there. The more you try not to look at the hole the more you see it. Soon its all you can see.

That’s where I am right now. I’m trying to learn how to co-exist with that hole. I’m trying to appreciate the rest of the picture. The difference between Jack and me is this: Jack thinks I see the world mourning for what was never there. I look at our world and I see something missing. There is a difference.

h1

PMS post miscarriage and dark thoughts

June 11, 2009

I once had a friend. She was my best friend. We did everything together and I trusted her completly. Our husbands were friends. We had standing invitations to one another’s house each weekend. I felt grateful to have them so dear to us. One day out of the blue she stopped speaking to me completely. She made new friends. When I saw her, she would turn her back and ignore me. One day her friends tore up pictures of me in her home and stuck them on the fridge. To this day I have no clue what I did. In the beginning I’d call and beg her to tell me what I did wrong. Our friendship was worth more than a misunderstanding, or if I made a mistake, worth more than ending over a mistake. At least, I asked, tell me what my mistake was. She refused. She as a bubbly vivacious girl attracts friends like honey and bees. I withdrew from all the social circles because it was uncomfortable to be in a corner while all the people crowded around her.  She hurt me so badly. She is pregnant.

She called me three weeks ago after two years of silence and cold glares and left a message saying she wanted to tell me what happened. It did not sound like an apology (which I would have accepted so we could move on) but instead a time to rehash what happened two years earlier. No, I thought. I’m done with the past. I’ve moved on. I wondered why now?

My friend who told me Tricia was pregnant was not prepared for my face to go white. For me to get tears in my eyes. I told her about my miscarriage. Otherwise I’d look really weird wouldn’t I? It was uncomfortable. I wish I hadn’t shared though she is very supportive. I just have a very hard time talking about face to face I guess.

I told Jack. He’s out of town. He said he knew. My friend’s hubby [Chris] is still in touch with Jack I guess. Chris told Jack before Tricia called and left the message My wife has PCOS she finally got pregnant and she wants to call and apologize to Kate. Jack told Chris that it was up to me what I wanted to do. He didn’t tell me any of this because he didn’t want to influence my decision and he knew how emotional I could get.

I’m just thinking to myself: Why. Why two days before my period? As I sit on a heap of negative pregnancy tests when Jack is not here When I’m in a darkened home all by myself, WHY NOW do I have to hear this? This girl was downright mean. In the end she won by having all my friends. Now she wins the battle of fertility too.

That’s silly isn’t it? Were not competing? But she did win. She gets a room full of friends while I sit here alone. She gets to have a baby while I sit and mourn mine.

Why God. Why does it work that way? I’m crying. I’m feeling a mix of emotions. Jealousy. Guilt over my jealousy. Anger at the All Mighty. Self Pity. Grief. Hopelessness. A huge helping of hopelessness. Fucking hell, infertilyt sucks. I hate being powerless. I hate having no control. I hate this SO much.

I talked to Jack about it today and he says I’m darker than usual. He said that the level of emotionality that I’m displaying is like how I was weeks after the miscarriage. I’m wondering if this is because of the fact that I’m due for a period on Saturday (I think- you never know with PCOS). This is PMS times twenty. Is PMS post miscarriage more horrifying for everyone? I’d like to think my emotions are just my hormones getting the better of me. I hope so.

h1

Fuzzy Math: My attempt at being positive

June 10, 2009

January 2008: Began TTC with undiagnosed PCOS

February 2008: OBGYN insists no PCOS w/out doing bloodwork or ultrasound. Tells me to TTC on 14, 15, 17, 19 of my cycle.

April 2008: Switch OBGYNs. New OBGYN gives me progesterone to induce period. Tells me after two cycles he’ll give me Clomid. No mention of PCOS or investigating potential causes of infertility. [and yes though the official year hadnt passed to term me IF, I knew I was. Sometimes you just know]

May 2008: Give up on OBGYNs. TTC in futility.

September 2008: Switch OBGYN. New one begins blood work to determine PCOS.  Identifies based on blood work I have PCOS.

October 2008: Ultrasound confirms PCOS.

November 2008: Put on Metformin

December 2008: Begin therepeutic dosage of Metformin

February 2009: Get pregnant

April 2009: Miscarry at 11 weeks.

Jack says that technically all the months we TTC before getting medication for PCOS were in vain due to the fact no little eggies were coming out to play. So really, our journey began December 2008 when I began Metformin. So really, I conceived after two months of TTC. So really, there’s nothing to worry about. Getting preggers will be a breeze.

So many retorts are waiting to come out like, the meds don’t fix PCOS. I can still struggle to conceive despite it. There could be other stuff wrong. Um, did you forget i miscarried? It’ s not just getting pregnant I’m concerned with. And so on and so forth, but I will not say those things today!

I guess I can choose to look at the glass half full since my reality remains the same. If seeing a half filled glass makes it easier, maybe its worth it. This is how I feel right now. Ask me again when my period comes.

h1

A baby with Jack

May 28, 2009

Someone I once cared about is attending my brother’s wedding. It’s been ten years since I’ve seen him and he’s now married with a one year old baby. Today we had the first of visitors for the wedding arrive. He is invited due to family connections his wife has to us. Small world. His wife stopped by to say hello and brought her daughter. Her daughter is beautiful with light brown hair wide blue eyes and cheeks that make you want to pinch and squeeze. She was born nine months after their wedding. I considered this man I almost married. He had multiple relationships while promising himself to me. He dropped out of college due to what I later learned was a drug habit. He broke my heart. Now, I see his daughter and though she is gorgeous I felt nothing, just a shudder at the thought of how a child with him would have tied me to him forever. I could only see her and think,  I am so glad I did not marry you. If God could come down to this earth and promise me if I married him that I would have a fertile womb and bear beautiful children, I would shake my head and say no thank you. My desire for a baby is more than just a desire to be a parent. It’s a desire to be a parent with Jack. To have a child who is a combination of the two of us, and if not that to raise a child together as ours with Jack. I want Jack’s baby. Seeing Gideon’s daughter helped me realize how important it is for me to appreciate the good and decent man I married. Though we don’t have children at least I have him. I would not trade Jack for anything, not even a promise of a child with another. I want a child with Jack and if I never have children, I am still blessed to have Jack in my life.

h1

How to come on to an infertile

May 26, 2009

I’m sitting on the couch and hubby gives me the look. You know, the look.

No, I say shaking my head. I’m tired.

Oh, he says leaning close and whispering in my ear, but we should, in fact, we must.

Why is that? I ask with a raised eyebrow.

Well, he grins, “I think you’re ovulating.”

Wow. That was a first, but I have a feeling it won’t be the last!

h1

Friendship and Trust

May 12, 2009

I have a friend, Alice, who I’ve known for about three years. She is one of about two people I trust in my city. She was one of two friends I told of my pregnancy. When I miscarried it was tough but I “untold” her. Her father had a stroke around the same time I miscarried and she has a young baby so I did not begrudge her when she sent me one quick email of condolence and never really followed up. Today as I walked to my car, the phone rang. Linda? I thought with confusion. Why was she calling? I had just emailed her a few days ago and told her I’d touch base with her in June. I let it slip to voice mail as I unlocked my door and I saw she left a message. The message went as follows: Hi, Im calling because I heard about what happened. I am so sorry to hear. I hope you’re okay. You’re in my thoughts. I know I’m probably not supposed to know, but I couldn’t just not call you.

I felt like someone punched me in the stomach, hard. Only two people knew, and I knew Alice and Linda were close. I called Linda who confirmed that Alice told her. She tried to be ameliorating Well I ran into Jenny a few weeks ago and asked how you were doing (Jenny being the other person who knows) and her response made me think something was wrong. So I followed up with Alice, who kind of hesitated but told me what happened.

I don’t have a lot of friends I can trust and I really trusted Alice. I trusted her completely. She too trusted me and shared with me things that only a handful of people could possibly know. I trusted her in part, because she trusted me so deeply. I get that Linda was concerned and Alice is close to Linda, and I get that things slip out. I do get that, but I told her how much I didn’t want anyone to know…  how does that translate to telling someone else?

Linda’s husband and my  husband are close, and Jack did not want me to tell Linda because obviously her husband would know and he didn’t want it to be awkward and I respected his request. He is furious that Alice told and wants me to confront her and tell her she is a horrible person. I don’t think Alice did this out of malice, she just did it because it was a conversation point with her close friend. Obviously, I will never ever trust Alice again, and the friendship I had will now be reduced to a mere acquaintance.  I am not sure how to handle the situation though. I feel she needs to know how I feel about this, but at the same time I do not have it in me to yell or scream. That’s not me, and it would do no good.

*** Updated to add: I emailed Alice and expressed to her my disappointment. She wrote back and apologized and explained to me what happened. Apparently when Linda asked Jenny how I was doing, Jenny said that I was going through a very difficult time right now and that Linda should probably call me. Well, okay then. I understand why Alice told her though I wish she hadn’t. I just need to be damn sure to keep shit to myself from now on.
h1

Thoughts on TTC again

May 11, 2009

The literature on the topic of TTC after a miscarriage is all over the place. Some say to wait three months, some say wait one cycle, and some say try ASAP. My doctor said wait one cycle. Jack said ASAP. I felt stuck in the middle. I waffled but eventually went with Jack though I think I missed the window.  For a while after my miscarriage I stopped taking metformin and my prenatals and ate as much sugar as I could. It was like I was fighting with my diagnosis, saying I try to manage you but what have you done for me lately? I’m better with this now. I’ve started low carbing again like a good PCOS’er, I take my metformin daily, work out thirty minutes a day, and yesterday, though I felt emotional, I took my pre-natal. I do not think I conceived this month due to the timing, but its time I started up my old routine.

From what I’ve read, negative pg tests after a miscarriage are more painful because they not only poke into your wounds of infertility but inflame the pain of your loss. Though I know we did not TTC on the right dates [Who knows when my right dates are anyways], I’d be lying if I said I don’t have a small iota of hope that I conceived. If I conceive I will be scared of my doctor’s reaction considering she was firm with me about waiting, and I also will be paranoid about another miscarriage, though I think that paranoia is with me regardless. But if I conceive…. I could have a baby. I could be a mother.

This is the most infuriating part of infertility. The way my mind so logical in most aspects, becomes a four year old addicted to fairy tales in matters of conception. Perhaps I’m even more juvenile than a four year old because each month I dream again, that this will be the month, despite 18 months of disappointment, each of those 18  times is excruciating. Each one is a separate heart break.

When it comes to matters of fertility, I am Charlie Brown trying to kick that damn football, and though Lucy pulls it away every fucking time, I still think yeah no, but for real, this time, this time it might be IT.

h1

Baby or Embryo or Fetus

May 10, 2009

I dreamt last night that I gave birth to a daughter. The nurses took her to the nursery but then when I went to see her, I couldn’t find her. I asked for my baby and they looked at me like I was crazy. I have a baby! I told them. They looked at me with raised eyebrows.

I woke with a start to my husband lying next to me listening to music. I scooted closer to hug him.

Jack: This song by the Killers got me emotional. It just makes me think of what could have been.

Me: I miss our baby too.

Jack: It wasn’t a baby.

Me: Yes, it was.

Jack: No, it was an embryo.

Me: If you want to get technical it was a fetus since I was 11 weeks.

Jack: But not a baby.

Me: Look, I heard his heart beat, I saw him wiggle on the ultrasound…

Jack: Yes, but it was just mechanical, there was nothing there, no soul.

Me: Why do you fight me on this? Why can’t you accept that for me it was a baby?

Jack: Because if it was a baby, then when does the pain ever end?

I understand now why he fights me on this. He needs this to have been nothing, he doesn’t want to hear my descriptions of where he was gestationally when he died. He doesn’t want to know that our baby had legs and arms and tiny little buds where fingers would form. He doesn’t want to picture the small perfect head, the little heart that beat so fiercy at 162 beats per minute. He doesn’t want to, but the problem is I have no choice. I housed my baby for a brief while and during that while as I remembered his heart beat, and read how he was developing, I fell head over heels in love with him. Jack and I experienced this different. All I know is that today I held it together. I called my mom and cheerfully wished her a Happy Mother’s Day, and I went on with my day. But when I heard this song by savage garden I nearly fell apart: I knew I loved you before I met you I think I dreamed you into life I knew I loved you before I met you I have been waiting all my life. My point? Sometimes I wish I could see it through Jack’s eyes. I think the pain would certainly be less.

I must say that reading other people’s blogs and learning of the different experiences so many of us have faced gives me strength because I know I am not alone. I am amazed at how beautifully so many bloggers have reached out to me. I do not know you but you have helped me in my healing process. Thank you.

h1

The loneliness of miscarriage

May 5, 2009

Sometimes, like today, I feel like a freak as grief attacked me in the middle of the day at work. I sat with an odd expression, far off and lost.  Someone made a joke about a good looking co-worker and I must have looked at her with a strange expression for she mumbled I was just kidding Kate…

I feel like my husband is tiring of this continuous grief.  I feel like people wonder when the hell I’ll move on. How many times can someone nod their heads with sympathy? How many times can they see my distant expression and feel compassion? They must wonder: She smiles and laughs one minute and the next she looks suicidal. How can I explain this to anyone when this baffles me too? There is only so far anyone can travel with me in my grief. They can follow me to a point- and then I must walk the rest of the road alone. My pain is private and only I reside within its reaches. Only I know how empty my heart is, how profusely my soul bleeds. I hate grief and how it can wreak havoc within me casting its shadow onto my exterior expressions despite my best attempts to hide it.

My mask is cracking. I’m tired of wearing it. I just want to be whole again.

Sometimes, like today, I feel all alone. I want a hug. I want someone to promise me it will be allright, and I want them to mean it. I want to melt into nothingness, numb to the pain that resides with me. Loneliness is an island, and though I am surrounded by people- in the end I am truly alone.

h1

The guilt of a miscarrying infertile

May 3, 2009

This morning I woke to Jack listening to the ipod, a far off expression.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He shook his head, “Nothing a song got me a little emotional.”

“Which song? Why?”

“It’s nothing,” he said looking away.

Later that evening, we sat together and the song came on.

“This is the song,” he said quietly.

“Why did it make you emotional?” I asked.

“It reminded me of the baby. Of what was supposed to be.”

I listened to the lyrics: stay and watch the coals Till they cease to glow Like empty promises Why, Why did you go, why did you go away? Baby? There’s nothing I can say Nothing I can do To bring you back again.

I held his hand and squeezed tightly. It hit me, the obvious realization, that though he might not cry like I do, and talk about it, he is hurting too. I realized how hard he tries to be strong for me as it took him all day to finally tell me what got him so sad.

It fucking breaks my heart that he is hurting. I hate that he feels he can’t lean on me like I can lean on him. I sometimes feel so guilty I have PCOS. He could be a dad now, but he’s not. I’m the reason we don’t have a child. I don’t ovulate regularly. I miscarried. Sometimes I feel like he deserves better. Would he have signed up for this deal if he knew what he was getting? He insists this is not true- but I can’t help it.

Three weeks to the date of my miscarriage- the scars still fresh, the pain lingers, the tears remain.

h1

Miscarriage and your husband

April 24, 2009

I love Jack dearly. Even in the midst of my grief I can look at him and know that I am blessed to have his support. Yet I must say there is something else burrowing in the midst of my gratitude for his presence in my life. I can’t pinpoint the right word for it but I can try to explain it. For me, my baby was a baby. He was a tiny little thing but I saw him. I heard his little heart beating, I saw his little body floating in my womb curled up, the hint of the umbilical cord that connected us a faint line on the screen. Seeing him made me believe he was real. When I woke up to pee in the middle of the night, when I gagged from a smell, I imagined that little being, the connection between my husband and I, the innocent creature I was privileged to house for a brief while. He was my baby.

Jack isn’t experiencing this like me. The night it happened he cried and the next few days we both wandered the house as if we were shell shocked. But now- he’s not curled up in fetal position crying his eyes out. He’s not running on the treadmill to run from the demons. He’s not biting his trembling lip wondering why did this happen. Jack has peace. He believes this happened for a reason. When I refer to speck as “he”, Jack objects. “You don’t know what the gender was. It was not a baby. It was just a thing.” My tears cause him discomfort. Sometimes he hugs me, sometimes he tries to joke to change the topic or get my mind off of it. A conversation about God and Purpose? Forget it. It’s a closed topic.

I try to respect this because a) he did not house this baby, his body did not begin the physical changes to accommodate the child b) perhaps this is a way to deal with the pain, if it was not a child or a baby yet then the grief is less c) some people can believe it happened for a reason and it gives them comfort. He doesn’t want me to question the purpose argument because then honestly, what the fuck is there to make sense of this?

We’re going to a concert tomorrow and he’s so excited because he loves the singer. I’m excited because I might for a few hours not remember what happened.

The truth is, I think from reading tons of other blogs on this subject, that at the end of the day that child housed in your body. Stole your nutrients and gave you headaches. Because you actively felt the presence of this child, the child is more real to you than he could ever be to your husband. In particular I liked what this blog had to say:

Almost every single woman feels this way (only a very small number mention partners that are sensitive and helpful)
100% of dads I’ve talked to or who have gotten on the board either want to know how to be strong for their wives or confess that they are grieving deeply and don’t want their wives to know
Men (and many women) really do believe that if you stop thinking about something, the problem goes away. Thus, they say comments like “Stop thinking about it” or “You’re getting obsessed about this” or “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Truly, nothing could be further from the truth. Talking about your problems is a catharsis and will help you heal faster.
A very natural dynamic in every couple, particularly if you live together or are married, is that only one person can fall apart at a time. If you both fall apart, no one will be making dinner, keeping the clothes washed, or manage other children, if you have them. This is an important function of the partnership, and is very rarely breached. Whoever is less sad at the moment will swallow their grief and deal with it later. The other person will feel abandoned and alone, and the partner may recognize it, but feel helpless to really get involved due to the pressure of keeping everyday life going. This time will pass, and the acute phase is usually a month or less.

It helps to understand why they feel differently than us and in some ways its good that he acts differently. Its because of him I’m still going to Asheville, or went out shopping last weekend [and ENCOURAGED me to buy a Coach bag… serioulsy, if only you knew Jack…] He supports me and wants me to get my mind off of things. And it does help to wear a mask and pretend to be okay because for brief moments you do forget.