All I Have.

May 24, 2011 at 10:35 am | Posted in Heartbreak | 7 Comments

Seventeen years ago was the worst day of my life.

This one’s hard. Amy’s been gone longer than she was here. God, it hurts. It’s an old wound at this point, yes. But the pain can still take my breath away.

That’s the thing with grief, I think. It’s always going to hurt.

Whether I want to or not, I am grieving the End of Trying. I’m trying to be okay with stopping, letting go of that hope of the Next Cycle.

It’s so hard right now. I didn’t realize how much it would hurt to walk away.

But. It’s the right choice to be done with treatments.

Yes, we have three frozen embryos in storage right now. And I confess that every day I think about just thawing them and doing one LAST cycle to see what happens.

But I haven’t blogged about the toll of treatments on my marriage. Or my self-esteem. How awful I feel when I’ve made my three year old son stay with his cousin overnight, even though he begs to stay with us, because I have an early retrieval the next morning.

I haven’t talked about how much a failed cycle affects me, how I spend days blaming my body for the failure. How angry I get that we keep doing something that isn’t working. How hopeless I feel in every two week wait.

It hurts to do more treatments, and it hurts to stop.

There’s no win here.

But then? THEN I look at my O. And I realize.

I am trying to hang onto something I don’t actually have. And forgetting to see all I DO have.

My son is amazing. He’s brilliant and sensitive and empathetic and sweet and introverted and funny.

One of my favorite bloggers commented on yesterday’s post, reminding me of another post I had seen a long time ago. Where the writer, upon being asked whether or not her son was “all she had,” turned it around.

And it’s so fucking TRUE. Look at all I have. I’m a mom, with an amazing kid and a wonderful husband. I have SO much to be thankful for.

Look at what I HAVE.



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  1. I don’t think celebrating what you do have and grieving what you don’t have are necessarily mutually exclusive. That said, your son is incredible, and perhaps it can ease the pain even a little to be more mindful of that. I, for one, could take my own advice on this point.

    As for the grief about your cousin, there are no words. I think you’re right, some things are so painful they will always hurt. I’m sorry.

  2. My cousin took her own life in 1995 and it still hurts..Know that you are not alone and that you are thought of and prayed for.. Your son is adorable! I hope you find the happy medium that you can be ok with. HUGS..

  3. I love the way you’re (trying to) look at this – look at all you have! What a cute kid. I hope the hurt gets easier with time, though.

  4. There are some things that you will grieve for a lifetime. It is okay, it helps to define you as a person and makes you appreciate other aspects of your life in different ways.

    O is gorgeous, btw!

  5. O is really beautiful. And I still say it’s OK to grieve, even if you are amazed and appreciative of what you have…

  6. I am learning that “all I have” in my son is what gives me the strength to walk away from doing more treatments. To walk away despite the fact that there will be pain in that choice. It’s not that he makes the pain less, but having him does make it more tolerable.

  7. He is awesome!!! You are very lucky and it is the right attitude to have.

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