I'm having an emotional time this morning remembering the babies we lost and grieving over the other members of our family that we will probably never have. The intensity of the emotions has surprised me. Trying to remember to be happy with what we have is proving to be especially hard this morning...
-- Post From My iPhone
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
Learning to live a worry-free life
My pre-menopausal state has apparently decided to manifest itself physically. I knew it would happen eventually and sooner rather than later, but less than a month after getting the news? I'm on day 38 of my cycle, and no, I'm not pregnant. Spoke with my doctor yesterday, and if I didn't have a positive urine pregnancy test this morning then I'm not pregnant, so I'm not pregnant... I'm supposed to call back if I go two months without a period.
I know I said I'm happy with our family like it is, but do you sometimes find yourself saying something if only to convince yourself? Maybe if I say it over and over, I'll eventually believe it...
I was really irritable this past weekend. At first I wasn't sure why. I was short and snippy with Kevin, and we were quarreling over silly little things. And then I realized that there was something that had my mind preoccupied. The loss of my friend's daughter really shook me up. I couldn't help wondering what if we lost Savannah? Other children would never replace the ones you lost, but it does soften the blow. But we CAN'T have more kids to soften that fearful blow. I'm so very happy and proud of my child but I DO want more. I find myself being scared with the idea that we may be left with no children.
I told myself that I'm not going to monitor anything anymore. If we get pregnant, I will probably miscarry anyway. But I was hoping I was pregnant this time. I was hoping that we would someday accidentally get pregnant and miraculously keep the pregnancy to term and have a living, healthy baby at the end. I was hoping for our happy ending. But this pre-menopausal cycle has reminded me that that isn't likely and probably not possible.
I feel the need to come to terms with my family the way it is - to be happy with what I have. But no, I'm not at peace yet. I am grieving over the family that I envisioned, and it is a process I haven't completed yet.
Everyone keeps telling me stress can play a factor in your cycle. Maybe the grief is interfering with it. My fear is that I'm in a perpetual state of stress that I don't even know what non-stress feels like. I want to learn how to live a worry-free life. I want to learn to be happy with what I have now.
I know I said I'm happy with our family like it is, but do you sometimes find yourself saying something if only to convince yourself? Maybe if I say it over and over, I'll eventually believe it...
I was really irritable this past weekend. At first I wasn't sure why. I was short and snippy with Kevin, and we were quarreling over silly little things. And then I realized that there was something that had my mind preoccupied. The loss of my friend's daughter really shook me up. I couldn't help wondering what if we lost Savannah? Other children would never replace the ones you lost, but it does soften the blow. But we CAN'T have more kids to soften that fearful blow. I'm so very happy and proud of my child but I DO want more. I find myself being scared with the idea that we may be left with no children.
I told myself that I'm not going to monitor anything anymore. If we get pregnant, I will probably miscarry anyway. But I was hoping I was pregnant this time. I was hoping that we would someday accidentally get pregnant and miraculously keep the pregnancy to term and have a living, healthy baby at the end. I was hoping for our happy ending. But this pre-menopausal cycle has reminded me that that isn't likely and probably not possible.
I feel the need to come to terms with my family the way it is - to be happy with what I have. But no, I'm not at peace yet. I am grieving over the family that I envisioned, and it is a process I haven't completed yet.
Everyone keeps telling me stress can play a factor in your cycle. Maybe the grief is interfering with it. My fear is that I'm in a perpetual state of stress that I don't even know what non-stress feels like. I want to learn how to live a worry-free life. I want to learn to be happy with what I have now.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Extra hugs
Tuesday evening I learned that an old friend of mine from junior high lost (I think unexpectedly) his 4 year old daughter due to undiagnosed brain swelling, and learning this has really weighed heavy on me the last couple days. I've not been on the helpless end of a tragedy since we've been on the hurting end of our tragedies, but I think it's affected me so much because I can relate so closely to the pain I know that family is feeling right now. It feels so wrong when a child dies.
I spoke to him earlier today for the first time in 12 years, and I thought about all the things I wanted to tell him to help him and his family through this dark time. I was nervous about calling, but I decided to because I know just offering words of condolences can be a comfort in and of themselves. I wanted to say that people will inadvertently say some insensitive things, but to try to look past their words to their intentions. I wanted to tell him about the anger he will feel but to try to not let it turn into bitterness. I wanted to tell him about the surreal emptiness that is just too painful to fully comprehend at first but will ease its grip over time. I wanted to tell him that the mornings when you are alone with your thoughts will be the hardest time of the day. I wanted to tell him that grieving is an individual journey that each person does at their own pace and in their own way and to be gentle and patient with each other. I wanted to tell him above all that it's so important to do the work of grief.
But I didn't mention any of those things. These are all lessons he and his wife will have to learn on their journey, and that saddens me. I told him there's not much I can say to make it better, it will be hard, and I'm so sorry they have to go through this.
Even before hearing this news, I've thought about what would happen if we lost Savannah. I look at all the pictures she draws, and I keep the special ones for memories. I'll see something that's completely unique to her like a strand of her curly hair, a dried out marker, a cheap little silly toy that she enjoys playing with; and I'll leave it where it is - just in case I need it to remind me of her later. But more specifically, it's times like these that remind me to cherish the loved ones in our lives because we never know if we might not have them with us anymore. Tonight I made sure to give my little girl extra hugs because I can.
I spoke to him earlier today for the first time in 12 years, and I thought about all the things I wanted to tell him to help him and his family through this dark time. I was nervous about calling, but I decided to because I know just offering words of condolences can be a comfort in and of themselves. I wanted to say that people will inadvertently say some insensitive things, but to try to look past their words to their intentions. I wanted to tell him about the anger he will feel but to try to not let it turn into bitterness. I wanted to tell him about the surreal emptiness that is just too painful to fully comprehend at first but will ease its grip over time. I wanted to tell him that the mornings when you are alone with your thoughts will be the hardest time of the day. I wanted to tell him that grieving is an individual journey that each person does at their own pace and in their own way and to be gentle and patient with each other. I wanted to tell him above all that it's so important to do the work of grief.
But I didn't mention any of those things. These are all lessons he and his wife will have to learn on their journey, and that saddens me. I told him there's not much I can say to make it better, it will be hard, and I'm so sorry they have to go through this.
Even before hearing this news, I've thought about what would happen if we lost Savannah. I look at all the pictures she draws, and I keep the special ones for memories. I'll see something that's completely unique to her like a strand of her curly hair, a dried out marker, a cheap little silly toy that she enjoys playing with; and I'll leave it where it is - just in case I need it to remind me of her later. But more specifically, it's times like these that remind me to cherish the loved ones in our lives because we never know if we might not have them with us anymore. Tonight I made sure to give my little girl extra hugs because I can.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
End of the journey
So, I think we made it to the end of our infertility journey, and it is bittersweet. I say "I think" because you never know what cogs will get thrown into your wheel of a plan. But based on our current circumstances, "I think" we're done.
I wrote earlier that I had decided to stop stressing about all this fertility stuff and just let it play out as it would. Well, I've taken it a step further and I think I'm done playing it out.
After coming to the realization that IVF could cost substantially more than we initially bargained for, I told Kevin that the ball is in his court. I'm not going to bring it up again. It has always been a higher priority to Kevin to have two sons, and I told him he has to figure out how much it's worth to him. I'll go along for the ride, but I'm mentally tired of rehashing my history for 2nd and 3rd and 4th opinions (which never are in concurrance anyway). I'll show up for blood draws and exams and procedures if he wants to pursue anything, but any other options will have to explored and initiated by him. I'm done.
It saddens me that Savannah will be an only child, and it's sad that we didn't end up with the family we initially set out to create, but I feel liberated. This is a peaceful place to be. I don't need to plan for more children, and we can fully focus all our energy and attention on our one living, healthy child and move forward with our family as we know it now.
I've been thinking about writing a book of fiction loosely based on our own pregnancy loss circumstances. I wondered to myself how I would end it - happy with the magical rainbow baby or sad without the triumphant live birth. But I came to the realization that this too is a happy ending even though it has been touched by tradgedy (whose story hasn't been touched by sadness in some way?) It is a happy ending because I am at peace with the beautiful family I have helped create and am a part of.
-- Post From My iPhone
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