Infertility is something that I’ve been dealing with for a long time. There is a pain that is associated with that – it can not be described. 2 years of hoping for a child, going to endless doctor’s appointment, blood drawn, medications taken – it all rips a bit of my soul each time. It’s hard to understand why this is happening to me, someone who’s wanted a child my whole life, and now trying for it with every ounce of my being.
I thought I was done with all that crap. When I found out there was a baby growing in me, I can’t even describe the relief I felt! No more tears! No more pain! Only happiness and love forever. I’ve always wanted a big family, but with that one baby in my womb, I would have been happy forever with just the one. The day I walked out of my fertility clinic from what I thought was the last time I’d have to be there was wonderful. The glee I felt, walking out with a picture of my baby in my hand, not having to go back to that place…
Since March 19th, when I lost my baby and had a d&c, I’ve been like a zombie. The first few weeks I didn’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone, have anyone mention the baby to me or for that matter, any baby. I’m still not wanting to talk to people about all of this. This blog is my way of putting my feelings and thoughts out there, without actually having to talk. I know, that may be wierd, but it’s easier for me this way.
I still feel like a zombie in some ways. I’m able to make it through the day, but by wearing a mask. I’m able to be happy at times, but it’s only a shadow of what I used to be. Any little frustration, stress, or anything that may upset me brings on a flood of emotions. Just this past Sunday, I was set to sing at my church. I got there Sunday, ready to go. We rehearsed – I’d had a cold all week so my voice did not want to cooperate. I hadn’t played my guitar in a while, so my fingers were aching trying to hit all the notes. Our voices were not blending well since we hadn’t rehearsed on the mics. All of a sudden, I was upset and frustrated with the whole situation. Once church began, I was trying to calm myself down just to get through the song. Of course all this had started the emotions of my loss, but I was trying to push it aside to make it through. Then my pastor got up to give the opening prayer and was giving thanks for Life, for the life we have, for the life we’ve been given……….I lost it. I practically ran out of the church and upstairs to hide. My husband found me there a bawling mess. Of course for good reason he and my other band member thought I was upset about the song. Justin asked me what was wrong. I said to him, “I want my baby back,” and it was all over from there. I broke down. He stayed with me, but I felt bad that he was missing the service. Eventually I told him to go back down and I’d follow as soon as I was able. I almost left. I so wanted to go home and crawl in a ball and never unwind. However, I pulled on my happy face. I went down stairs in time for the end of the service and sang the song. I made it through Fellowship Time, through lunch, and the rest of the day.
I’m emotionally spent. I hate that I go through, day to day, just surviving. I miss my child. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the chance to have another one. I used to be a happy person. I would not let things effect me that were not important. I was a happy person. I had worked hard to get to that point, and this damn infertility took that all away. I hate myself for not being able to provide for my child, that I could not sustain him/her to make it through to life.
On top of all that, I have to get through one cycle before we can start trying again. I lost my child in the middle of March. It’s now almost May with no sign of “Aunt Flo (af)”. I have unusually long cyles, sometimes 3 months or more, so there’s no telling when this next one will start. It’s frustrtating to just SIT here and not be able to do anything. To have to sit and wait for my stupid body to do something, something I have no control over. Then it all starts again. Tests. Needles. Medicine. Bloodwork. Ultrasounds. IUI. Frustrating doctor. Kind nurse. Pain. Fear. “What If’s”. It all starts again.