I'm not sure what one is supposed to do on a missed birthday after a missed miscarriage after the only pregnancy one was ever able to concieve, after 27 straight cycles of trying (minus the 3 during the actual pregnancy-of-the-baby-that-never-was, the one after that baby-that-never-was's "missed" miscarriage, and one additional one when one and one's husband were on different continents and thus unable to try procreating), after 3 IVF cycles, 4 embryo transfers, and over two years straight of monthly minor heartbreaks or major depressions, depending on one's state of mind when one's period shows up yet again.
Does one cry inconsolably? Hold some sort of missed-birthday ceremony? Increase one's dosage of Zoloft?
I've done none of the above. But I did stay in bed until past noon. And then watch reruns on TV. And then had a muffin and a coffee, neither of which is allowed on my fertility diet. And then decided that I just couldn't take this feeling of being in limbo one second longer, with nothing to show for it.
So now, against all my better judgment perhaps, I'm writing out loud. About being infertile, in limbo, and in total confusion about how one goes ahead with one's life in any kind of productive way when one cannot seem to reproduce.
My questions:
- How does one make anything meaningful, achieve anything worthwile, while being chewed whole and spat out daily by the soul-sucking experience of infertility?
--and, perhaps more easy to answer:--
- How does one mark the birthday of a baby-that-never-was?
Limbo - I am so sorry for what you are going through. When I lost my first baby at about the time you did, I put on my best dress, got out my best bottle of wine and sat outside by the pond. I cried and told him/her how sorry I was that we would never be able to do all of the things I wanted to do with them. Then I talked to my OB who gave me a different perspective. She told me that now we know I can get pregnant and that I needed to dust myself off and keep trying. It worked. I think the hardest part is to not become one's infertility. Easier to say, but it is doable. I think when we get to such a dark place, we impair our body's ability to conceive through all of the pain and fear. I do believe it is possible and I encourage you to go back to a place of hope. Find a piece of happiness. The sunshine. Your spouse. Anything. I wish I could give you a big hug. I am sending you positive energy and peace. Please DM me or send an email through my site if there is anything I can do to help you. Blessings. www.over35newmoms.com
ReplyDeleteRaisingbaby: I love this line: "I think the hardest part is to not become one's infertility." It's so true. I have a PhD, have taught for 15+ years at the college level, built a life on 2 different continents (my sweetie is from overseas), supported myself as a freelance writer for years, and yet I've never faced a more daunting, demotivating challenge than infertility! I sometimes feel like a failure as a feminist for that. Although, as I said on your twitter stream, one thing I know I've gotten from this experience is to "meet" and be inspired by so many courageous, honest, down-to-earth women like you. Anyway, many thanks for your kind response!
ReplyDelete