Left Behind.

April 13, 2012 at 10:02 am | Posted in Heartbreak, Infertility | 9 Comments

So another close friend of mine called me a few days ago to tell me that she’s 12w pg.

She and my best friend are due within weeks of each other.

They were both in my club of the one-kid holdout.

It took her more than a year to conceive this time around. So it’s not like it was easy, or she’s super fertile, or whatever. Or that she was even mean about it; she knows about our failed cycles and after she told me, she asked me if I was okay.

And, you know, I AM okay.

It hurt nonetheless, though.

Because being left behind is so hard. Out of my close friends, I am the only single kid mom.

That I want a baby so very badly right now doesn’t help, either.

And I’m seeing in practice what I’ve always thought: that secondary infertility is a very different kind of hell.

I feel a lot more alone this time. Which is probably my own doing; I have a hard time reading about people TTC #2 right now. I know that they’ll likely be pregnant in the near future, and I’ll be left behind yet again.

It’s really, really hard.

But also, I’m seeing that sometimes, when it’s easy, it’s not easy. My best friend’s sister in law was on hospital bedrest with her third this time around due to placenta previa; one night she started bleeding uncontrollably and they had to deliver the baby 10 weeks early. She called her husband, who was home with the kids. 10 minutes later, doctors had delivered her little girl via c-section under general anesthesia, her baby was in the NICU, and her husband didn’t make it in time to be there.

Everyone’s FINE now, thankfully. But man, that sort of birth is hard to process.

And then the guy on FB with the little boy who JUST started walking, who a couple of weeks ago posted a picture of him in scrubs, saying, It’s go time! Two boys, a little over a year apart. Clearly no fertility issues there.

Except the baby is in the PICU right now because he caught RSV. And though he’s progressing, and getting better, I can only imagine how terrified they are.

Sometimes it isn’t easy, even when it’s easy.

I don’t think these things to diminish my own feelings on trying again, of wanting a baby so badly. Honestly, I don’t know what happened, but seeing my best friend’s u/s pictures awoke this deep NEED.

Which makes me acutely aware of how much my BODY longs for a baby. I dream almost nightly of nursing, the slightness of the weight in my arms, warmth against my body, the scent of baby. It’s a physical need, rooted somewhere deep inside me, but outside of intellect and logic.

And though I don’t understand it, I know that I feel it really deeply.

I can tell that therapy has really made a difference in how I deal with emotions. I’m less apt to get angry at myself for feeling something, or be angry with someone else because they made me feel bad. Somehow acknowledging the pain makes it so much easier to deal with.

So much easier.

But sometimes it isn’t easy, even when it’s easy.

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9 Comments »

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  1. This must be so hard. It is so hard to be the only one without a baby when everyone else has one, but I can imagine it must be equally hard to be the only one with one when everyone else is moving on.

    I remember when we were waiting for E. and a whole bunch of my friends had their second and completed their families I worried all the time that our kids would never play together because they’d be too far apart in age. I felt almost panicked watching them get bigger- it was this constant reminder that we were falling further behind.

    Hugs and hugs and hugs.
    T.

  2. I like how you put that – it isn’t easy, even when it’s easy. Everybody has different issues and it’s very hard to compare (plus having 2 kids a little over a year apart, even if they’re both healthy, must be very difficult!).
    You aren’t alone, although I can see why you feel that way. I’ve been thinking lately about all the only children I know, kids and adults. There are lots of them when you start looking, although they can’t replace your closest friends.
    I am really, really hoping that you do get the family you want. You’ve waited a long time.

  3. I agree so completely that it isn’t easy, even when it’s easy. I think the only thing you can do is acknowledge the pain, because it’s real and it’s there. I’m sorry it’s so hard, and I wish it wasn’t.

  4. Ditto.

  5. I just want to give you a hug right now. I’m so sorry it’s so hard right now. I’m so sorry you felt left behind. I can’t imagine how difficult that would be.

    I know I’m one of the TTC#2 people that it’s hard to read. I hope you’re stepping away if that feels best. I know I would if I were you. I already have stepped away from some TTC#2 blogs hen I was still stuck waiting. I just couldn’t handle it.

    I’m so sorry again. I so wish things were different.

  6. [[Hugs]]

  7. “Sometimes it isn’t easy, even when it’s easy” wise wise words. I feel peace in your words. HUGS, I can relate with that in many ways

  8. “Secondary infertility is a very different kind of hell.” This was such a powerful statement. I am so sorry. (((Hugs)))

  9. Jjraffe linked to and quoted this/your post today (on a post that I wrote for NIAW re: secondary infertility).

    I get it too.

    Though I am finally on “the other side” after a five year journey through secondary infertility and loss, I still try to reach out to and advocate for those who are in the trenches. Also, the feelings never completely go away.

    I feel very blessed and grateful for the family I have now, but it is not the family that I imagined, hoped for and dreamed of and I am still working on making peace with that.

    I will never know what primary infertility feels like, though our road to number one didn’t go as fast or easily as I thought it could or would. I know it’s not about “pain Olympics,” but I do think it is important and valid for those who have faced secondary infertility to share our stories too.

    Hang in there. (((HUGS)))


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