AngelMom, TTC

365 days without you…

I remember nearly every detail of that day. I know what I was wearing, and I have trouble wearing those clothes now, though they float like friendly-ish ghosts in my closet. I remember how I felt at any given moment of that gloomy Thursday. I remember how crushing it was to finally know, after 25 days of uncertainty that I was going to lose you. Karate… I’ve whispered to the wind how sorry I am that I couldn’t save you… and I mean it.

Nurses and doctors shuffled in at random, each learning my diagnosis and not one of them knowing what to say or do to help me. Some were kind, some were cold, sterile, others just stood with their mouths hanging open trying to find words to help– there aren’t any– I’ve checked. There were no options, no discussion, and there was no saving you.

As for me, I’ve spent the last 365 days trying my best to cope without you, in the wreckage and horror that was left after that day. Grief and loss, are a moving staircase. Constantly changing, mutating, and evolving. I’ve accepted that I will never truly be “over you” and thank goodness. I’m the only one who ever held you, nothing can change that. Of everything I lost that day, that fact will always be mine. You’re the one that made me a mom, even if you couldn’t stay I am still a Mom.

Honestly, when I opened my eyes after surgery I thought it would be impossible for me to laugh, to hope and dream ever again. I feared being asked even the simplest surface question such as “How are you?” because the only answer I could grasp was “broken and lost” – that’s a little heavy for ladies room small talk with a kind coworker asking as a common courtesy.

Fast forward to present day and I’m starting to feel like me once again even if only in fractional values. In an unexpected turn of events, I really did learn some things in losing you… and finally, I feel like I’m starting to unearth some of the bits of me I thought I’d lost forever.

I feel relieved… and proud to have survived this far and that I’ve turned so much of my own pain into power and hope for myself and others. It’s a funny thing… I would never have chosen this life if it was laid before me, but Karate you’ve forced me into a better version of me. A more mindful and grateful version than the one that once existed before. I think that girl died with you, I’m certain a part of me did that day.

I plan to press on through this ever changing maze in 2018… taking the best bits and pieces of me I can. Hoping and praying for another miracle… one that the world can handle because you Karate, were obviously just way more than the world was ready for.

I found this quote the day after I lost you… I didn’t appreciate it then, I think I wanted to, but the pain was still too overwhelming. It made me smile today, now that I’m strong enough to do so. Lightning will strike again, I believe that.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

TTC

Emotional Landmines 

I was racing through Walmart the other day. I had a random list of things to acquire, and I had ping pongged all over the store a few times to get them. I was getting ready to leave and realized I forgot something way at the back of the store, so I doubled back one more time to get the last missing item from my list. I cut across the center of the store and without thinking, I walked right into the baby section of the store and it stoped me dead in my tracks. 

Infertility will cause you, sometimes even subconsciously to avoid certain people, places and things just so you don’t have to deal with how they make you feel. The baby section is one of those places for me. 
I remember before we lost our baby, the first and only time I got to visit this magical land as an expectant mother. It was right after we found out we were pregnant, and before the ultrasound that ruined it all. I was so happy. A bit overwhelmed as I’m sure every mother to be is, but so thrilled to be there for myself instead of everyone else! I’ve “baked” a gaggle of diaper cakes, gone to a thousand kid birthday parties, baby showers and for once I’d get to feel what this was like!! I remember tearing up and texting my friend what I was doing. It all seems so silly and arbitrary but to me, that moment was everything.

Now, standing in the baby section I felt my knees start to give and I the tears start to swell up in my eyes  recalling that special moment in time before things got so complicated.  I wondered if I will ever get to have that feeling again… and suddenly felt like all eyes in the store were on the crazy lady about to lose it at a Walmart and I hastily bolted out of there. 

These are the moments I try to hide from. It’s not always Walmart… sometimes is people in my life that make it hard for me to live this infertile life. I can’t explain it, and it’s hard to defend myself when it happens because I know it’s not fair, and I feel guilty for even feeling the way I do. 

The pain, and grief that is loss and infertility is the most complicated and confusing thing I’ve ever encountered. Chances are, if you’re reading this you know the struggle or if not, you know someone that does. It’s is difficult to know how to handle this very fragile friend. The best thing you can do is to be there, quietly and carefully and without trying to fix anything. Just be here, and be gentle. We are the most broken , fragile and fierce creatures and we just want to be understood and accepted, just like you. Isn’t that what we ALL want, in some way? 

I crave acceptance and validation. We all have hidden emotional land mines and try as we might to navigate our lives to avoid them, eventually we’re going to forget where they’re hidden and have to deal with a blowout.  As for me, I’m still trying to figure out how to responsibly deal with my issues without emotionally injuring myself or others. Results vary, and that’s is ok too. 

AngelMom

These eyes….

Current Status

  • Cycle Day: 1
  • Fertility Treatments: None… and likely will go natural this cycle
  • Emotional state: Contemplative

Shout out to these eyes… they’ve been working over time for the last year. They’ve cried an awful lot of tears in this very hard time in my life. They also have to work extremely hard to not look as tired as I truly am. They have to put in over time to hide all the feelings that are not suitable for any given situation I find myself in. It’s not always a good time to let someone know you’re struggling– it’s the eyes’ job to convince them “there’s nothing to see here folks!”.

They hide my pain, my struggle, my jealousy, my rage and my fear. These eyes have a tough gig, for sure. 

Living in this skin, managing the pain from loss, and lack of offspring is tough. Sprinkle in fertility hormones, which not only magnify my own feelings, but additionally cause outbreaks of synthetic emotional turbulence. These eyes really never had a chance! 

Some days I cry over real things that are bothering me. Sometimes I cry over nothing, and everything. Sometimes it’s caused by restraining many things over time to a point where it all bubbles up, over and out. These eyes, have it rough believe me. 

Like every other part of me that has to work hard to keep pushing on, I make promises to my eyes. Just a little farther. Just once more. It will be worth the price of those tears! We are almost there… I promise these eyes, I lie to them to keep them from giving out on me. Hopefully they don’t get wise…. I promise them that if we can just get through this, the beautiful things we will see will outweigh all this pain we have to endure now. 

Perhaps, someday these eyes will gaze upon a chubby screaming baby with eyes like mine…. and I will wipe those tears and have to strain to remember how much it hurt to wait for that moment. Perhaps. 

AngelMom, TTC

IUI cycle #5

So, I know you guys might be wondering… cycle #5 IUI was a big fat negative.

I actually started my period on the plane ride up to Washington for my little sisters wedding. “Luckily” I had been so emotional the two days prior that I think I cried all possible tears available and by the time I got to Washington I was completely void of any emotion.

I still kind of am… I pretty much feel nothing. I can’t believe that after everything we did last month, and how great the cycle was on paper that it just didn’t take. More money down the drain, more torture on myself that basically does me no good in present day. And, due to the timing and being out of town we are on the bench as far as treatments are concerned this current cycle. We can still try naturally- and we will- it just makes me really bitter and angry that the last cycle didn’t work because I really did lay it all out, placed every last hope I had in it only to realize I have to scoop up all my broken hopes, dreams, fears and insecurities and do it all again.

I spent a good deal of time with my niece and nephew and squeezed and hugged on them when I was in Washington which was a blessing… but also just makes it hurt so much seeing how natural it is to me to be around children… but all the while I am struggling to keep fighting the good fight to have my own. MY OWN… not adopt, surrogate, foster or any other solution someone might suggest to me in passing thinking that will fix my desire to become pregnant and carry a child of my own. These are all fine ideas and I know they come from only the best place of wanting to lessen the pain I feel…. but some wounds cannot be bandaged.

For now, I’m trying to find a way to push forward in spite of feeling like I’ve failed… again. Trying to figure out how to just be happy with all the many blessings we already have, and make sure my marriage stays strong despite constantly running it through the gauntlet every time we sign up to go through this again!

#nevergiveup

AngelMom

Feel the way you feel.

April 14, 2017


So, one of the worst things I’ve experienced in losing a child has been the feeling of shame and suppression.

I lost my baby. In the most brutal and heartbreaking fashion. A baby that I’ve dreamed of, and worked so hard for! It’s not fair!!! Those words ring in my ears, daily. It is not fair.
I can recall the day of our ultrasound and not unlike anyone who’s experienced it I recall the news hitting me in the chest like a gunshot. Following the news, the doctor kept talking. I can’t tell you exactly what he said because I was frozen.  All I could hear and feel was a very sharp, loud feedback -like a guitar amp screaming through the air and muffling everything else that was happening around me.

Following that horrid day were several other equally awful days of which I can’t really recall but can never forget.

Fast Forward….
I’ve lost my child.
And the world in their infinite wisdom takes pleasure in telling me “at least”. At least is awful.
Would it be so bad to just let me feel broken? To let me feel sad? To let me be devastated???? These feelings are all difficult, but not as difficult as trying to suppress every feeling I have in order to convince everyone and myself that I’m OK. Maybe lm not. That doesn’t mean I won’t be ok some day. In the meantime, please just allow me to grieve and breathe without having to prove I’m something I’m not. Ok.

AngelMom, TTC

The girl I want to be.

April 13, 2017

Reflecting on past tense. I want to be this girl. I want to be fierce, powerful and hopeful that this time things will be different. I want to feel pretty, comfortable, voluminous and confident. This time things will work out. This girl had faith, courage, fear and hope but balanced them all like spinning plates. This is the face of a girl that went on her lunch break to her fertility doctor to get knocked up. Oh the things we do. The things that can become “normal”. It was Halloween, I was dressed in my most fabulous 80s Material Girl garb, on my lunch break and I was on top of the world. I want to be her.

Present day me can only spin one plate at a time before everything crashes and breaks. I break. Present day me wants to shout when I struggle, struggle to share, struggle to smile – even just a simple smile to a stranger that says “hey I’m ok”, I struggle to quiet the angry, frustrated thoughts that have moved in like a stormfront.

I want desperately for you all to know. To understand that the pain of knowing I may never be this girl again is devastating. 

It’s so unfair that this journey has not only taken away my child, but has also taken away basic parts of who I am…. and all of these losses are non-refundable.