It's been 16 months since the worst day of my life. 16 months since my life changed forever. 16 months since I started the hardest, most personal journey I've ever been on. 16 months of heartbreak and stress and tears and very little laughter and happiness. I'm exhausted.
16 months ago, I miscarried my child. I was 12 weeks and it was right after thanksgiving. We were getting ready to tell the family. Getting ready to start buying all those fun things that go along with being pregnant. We were excited and were overflowing with joy. And just like that it was over.
In the moment we were very pragmatic about the whole thing. This happens to so many families. We aren't the only ones. We'll get pregnant again. But I tell you what...I have never felt so alone in my entire life. No one can say anything to make you feel better. No one can take away the emptiness that you carry with you each day. The pang of hurt you feel each time you see a beautiful pregnant woman, or that precious new baby. It stays with you. Always.
You go through life each day with this shadow on your shoulder and in your heart. No one can see it, no one knows it's there. It's a burden you carry silently. And even if you are able to talk about it, unless the person you are speaking to has been there, they don't get it. They do their best to provide you with comfort and words of wisdom, but what do they know? And then you stop talking to them about it, because you can see that they don't know what to do or say, that they are running out of patience and are frustrated as well. They mostly want you to be successful just so you'll stop talking about it. I can't say I blame them. It's hard thing to deal with regardless of what side of it you're on.
And really, it's not like we haven't been trying. Predictor kits, daily temperatures, doctor's appointments. No answers from anyone. Hell, I had a doctor tell me that trying for a year was equivalent to the feeling you get after a four day cold. It's annoying but not the end of the world and there's no point in getting upset about it. Well fuck that guy. I'm on the waitlist to get in to the fertility clinic, but that's 6 months just to get a phone call. So here I sit, waiting. I feel like I'm waiting for a miracle.
Recently, I found out that my sister-in-law and best friend are expecting. I am over the moon for them, I really am. These are two women that are going to make amazing mothers and I can't wait to see them start this part of their lives. But what the fuck.
I recognize that their triumph is not a reflection of my failures. These are two separate things. But my yoga teacher asked me the other day how I felt about it. How I really felt. My answer? I'm pissed. I'm just so mad. Not at them. It's not their fault I'm struggling. I'm pissed at the situation. What makes everyone else so special? Why isn't it me? Why do i have to be the one to go through mind melting periods of resentment and sadness every month? What did I do to deserve this?
At least I have Chris. Bless my husband. He's the most wonderful, patient, wonderful man I could ever imagine. I'm so glad he's mine. He is just such a solid part of my life. This guy has been unwavering in his support of me during this whole ordeal. The breakdowns in the middle of the night, the mood swings, the ups and downs of everything, and managing his own feelings about all of it. This guy hasn't stumbled. Love him.
So what's next? This is really a hurry up and wait game. Always waiting. Wondering what each month will bring. Hoping that this time it will be different. That this time we will be able to take the steps to move forward and celebrate again. But we'll get there. I know we will. One way or another we will be parents and we will rock it.
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