Differences

I read an interesting news article the other day. It was a guest column. I found myself experiencing conflicting emotions for different reasons.

The author tried to write an article on infertility, but because she had never experienced it, turned it into an article about hyper fertility and how the stress is the same. At least, that is kind of what I got from it. My opinion when I read it was that they are NOT the same. I still feel that way. After reading comments, I realized that I wasn't alone in that feeling.

It was also interesting for me to read, since I am not dealing with infertility now. I do, however, have a very keen memory on what it was like. Even as I was experiencing it, I remember thinking about women who had a difficult time preventing pregnancy. I tried very hard to be empathetic toward them, but it was hard. I could understand and visualize the stress. I could think about how difficult it would be to find out you were pregnant with another child when the money wasn't there to care for them and how stressful that would be... but it was difficult, when at that time, all I longed for was another baby to hold and care for.

It was a long seven years, broken up by a miscarriage. There was a lot of heartache. If I ever even come close to forgetting, all I have to do is look up my infertility label on my blog, and it all comes back.

I think the difference really, is that in dealing with infertility you are dealing with grief. Every month. Every time the test comes back negative. Every time, if you try in-vitro... it fails. Every time your cycle is late you get a glimmer of hope only to have it dashed again. If you do get pregnant... the ultrasound with the heartbeat that isn't there and the sad look on the doctor's face as they tell you things aren't going the way they are supposed to. So, every month, you start the grief cycle over again. You mourn the children that aren't there. They are very difficult emotions to deal with. They are emotions that only completely go away when you get a child.

I haven't dealt with hyperfertility, but in my mind, that stress and emotion is more of an overwhelming, what am I going to do and how am I going to handle this? How am I going to handle the stress of mothering another child? And, like I said before, I can see it, I can visualize how stressful it would be...but still, very different emotions then dealing with infertility.

I don't think you can compare the two.

Wishes

I was thinking the other day about life and the challenges that people face...especially when it comes to having kids and things like that. I often wonder at times why some people seem to have it so easy, and others have such a hard time.

It seems especially unfair when you are the one that longs for just one baby, and yet the "family" that has to have all their kids put into foster care because there's a meth lab in their house, can't seem to stop having them.

Then I thought, you know, if I had could have wishes here's some wishes I would make...

I wish no one had to lose a child to miscarriage.
I wish no one had to deal with the pain and sorrow of infertility.

There were more...but then I caught myself... even though I would never wish these experiences on anyone, and there is a jealous little monster inside me when I think of people that seem to be able to get pregnant at the drop of a hat (even NOW as I'm holding this sweet baby in my arms and have ZERO desire to get pregnant at the moment...)

Even so... there are many things I have learned from these experiences. The biggest ones seem to be compassion and empathy...and the ability to view the pain from their side.

The pain of wanting something so bad that you have no control over. The longing. And I'm not just talking about having kids here. The sorrow and sadness from not getting something that is a just desire.

These are things and emotions that I don't think I could have learned any other way. So...even though it has been tough, if anything, it has made me treasure and cherish my children. If it has taught me that much, even though it's been so painful and sad, I can't really wish that away. :)

Thoughts

So, a few weeks ago I started spotting. Did this start the stint of me writing non-pregnancy posts? Maybe. Did it stress me out? Definitely. I went to my doctor the next day and he did an ultrasound. I am glad that I did. There was a little tadpole and a beating dot where the heart is. That was encouraging.

As soon as I started spotting I started taking Prometrium (Progesterone pills) to help my body sustain the pregnancy and not abort it. When I went to my doctor I told him that I had started taking them and asked if that was an okay thing to do, and he thought it was a good idea for me to be taking them. So, that was good.

Anytime there is any blood in a pregnancy after you have miscarried, you become paranoid about EVERYTHING. At least I do. Someone I work with wondered why I was so concerned since they had spotted with every pregnancy they had, and yes, spotting is not a completely abnormal thing...but it can also indicate the start of a miscarriage.

During my last pregnancy, when I found out things weren't going the way they should, I mentally started freaking out. I wanted to know EVERYTHING that was going on, that instant. I wanted bloodwork drawn, just to be sure, and I was very scared and sad and agonized.

This pregnancy, when I started spotting, I was calm. Inside, part of me thought, well, you knew it was probably too good to be true. And then, the more patient and spiritual part just calmly thought, well, if this baby is meant to join our family here, then it will. Of course outside I was laying on the bed curled up in a ball crying my eyes out.

So, as far as I know the baby is still doing well. I have an appointment Monday to do my "first" visit where they will do another ultrasound and all the other fun things that go on at the first visit. Ha.ha.ha. ;) I was initially scheduled to have my first appointment the Monday after I started spotting, but my doctor wanted to give the baby a few more weeks to grow.

So, good or bad, I will let you know what I find out! Of course I'm hoping for good, I mean, that kinda goes without saying. :)

Just one of those things...

Today has been a roller coaster for me. It started out well, then went really downhill, then went okay, and then, after all the business went sad...

Here's what it boils down to...

Woke up, and I was happy because we were going to a parade, and the kids were going to be excited, listen to marching bands play in the parade, see Harrison perform a little karate demo with his sensai, what's not to like?

Then...I found out that another person I know is pregnant. This seems like number 50, but in reality it is more like number...15. THAT'S A LOT! So then I have the half of me that is happy for them, and then the other half, the jealous little monster half, that dredges up all the reasons why life sucks, and even though we would love to have more children, it just doesn't seem like it's going to happen. Of course I also have to remember the people I know that are pregnant and aren't happy about it AT ALL. It's something I've had to try really hard to look past and I haven't been very successful at it, but I keep trying.

So I get down. Really down. I cry. All I want to do is lie in bed and bemoan my fate. My heart aches. Then I ponder and think about how only people who have really lost something that they have wanted or loved like a child or family member, only they can truly understand. And at some point I turn to the one person who does understand, and if I open my heart, I am comforted, even if it is only brief and I'll be experiencing the same thing either in a month, or the next time someone says something that I try to laugh off, or the next pregnant person informs me of their "condition" in this epidemic that for some reason I'm not allowed to be a part of. When I let my heart truly open, this is how I feel:



I have to feel it. It's one of the only things that keeps me going.

I AM DONE! I QUIT!

No no, I am not quitting homeschool, that is actually going quite well. Even though it's only been three days, I can already see a POSITIVE change, and having him schooled at home has really helped me see that there are some little issues with certain subjects. Really though, putting some of the decision making in his ballpark has helped him become a little more responsible. :)

No, I am done worrying, wondering, hoping, praying, and thinking about having another child. It's been almost five years since we had one, and a year and a half since I was last pregnant. Well, apparently it's just not meant to be. If it happens it happens, but I'm done wishing that it would. (This especially occurred to me after yet another announcement of a potential due date. Lucky them. I hope they realize how blessed they are).

Lucy, you have some splainin' to do!

So, I didn't really think about it at the time, but I was showing my s-i-l my blog yesterday evening, and realized that some others may have the same question that she did...which was...why are there angels on my sidebar?

The short answer is, that is the way I memorialize the two babies that I miscarried.

The long answer, is that I was having a really rough time, and while I would have bits and pieces of peace and happiness, I was really struggling. A dear friend loaned me her copy of a book called, Gone Too Soon, The Life and Loss of Infants and Unborn Children by Sherri Devashrayee Wittwer, and in that book it suggested that it was very theraputic to memorialize these children that you've lost. ( I would recommend this book to anyone who has miscarried or lost a child after delivery or even in the first two years...this book is amazing.)

In the book it suggests planting something or writing a letter to your unborn child, but my friend didn't want to plant something in case they moved, so they bought a beautiful picture and had it engraved with the information. They didn't know if it was a boy or a girl so they put Baby _____ and then the date of death. When I saw that picture, I knew that I needed to do something as well.

While I had initially felt like I had grieved for the children that I lost, my emotional roller coaster of pain and anguish suggested otherwise. I had some very distinct experiences where I knew what gender they were, I knew what I wanted to name them, and then that was gone. I needed closure.

So, I wrote letters to both of them, and then I found a site where they had the counters that you see posted on my sidebar. No, I don't believe that angels have wings, but they are cute, and I like them. :) Plus, it brought me peace.

A New Day

The past week has been pretty interesting for me. It has really made me think about things, about how I behave and things that happened to me in the past.

Shane has a co-worker whose wife was pregnant. Yeah, I said "was." She miscarried on Sunday. She was 18 weeks along. I told Shane that made me sad. I was thinking about it, and I told him, that means she felt the baby move. She could feel him alive inside her. Having felt a baby move inside me before, then I thought about the other spectrum...how people abort their children.

Some, waiting until they are almost full-term, and in my mind, I just sit there and am baffled by how they could do it. Here I sit, still grieving for a child lost over a year ago that was barely large enough to even have the shape of hands and feet, whose heart beat once if at all, and someone else can kill a child that has been growing in them for 8 months. I just want to scream, "I'll take it! Give it to me!"

So, yes, I am sad, and I am still grieving. I look at how I wish people had talked to me after it happened, and then I look at how I treat people when something tragic happens to them. Do I run away? Do I avoid their eyes? Do I avoid the topic? The answer...yes. So, how can I expect others to treat me in such a way, when as much as I want to, I can't give them the same courtesey? I know the reason I do it. I feel like I don't know them well enough to pry. Do they trust me enough to talk about it? And, sometimes, it really does in a way make me grateful that I CAN in some ways relate...because you see...I've lost children too, and while the pain lessens, in some ways, it never really goes away.