Terrible Love.

November 16, 2012 at 9:41 am | Posted in doctor, Heartbreak, Infertility, motherhood, NaBloPoMo, Pregnancy Loss, The End of Trying | 13 Comments

(Warning. This is a vent. Feel free to click away.)

I have my follow up with my New Clinic this morning. I don’t want to go. I woke up with my emotions in knots, stuck in my throat.

Because I should have been into my second trimester at this point. I should be at our OB and hearing the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. Next week would have been when we started telling people our good news.

Yeah. Instead I’m STILL BLEEDING from my D&E; three and a half weeks – and counting. It’s fainter now, spotting mostly, but ever present.

I’m tired of blood.

Lucky woke up early, too, and there was a LOT of counting on my part this morning. I am at the end of two weeks of Charlie being away, Lucky has been up at 5 or 5:30 every morning this week, my patience is severely limited at this point.

5am is too damn early to have to deal with a 4 year old who pretends like he can’t climb onto his bed and get his stuffed animal. He does that a lot, Lucky. Pretends his feet won’t move, or are moving backwards, or that he doesn’t see something that’s right in front of him. I know that it’s because he wants my help, but it bugs the everloving SHIT out of me that he just won’t ASK me. Preferably nicely.

And at 5am, without any coffee, I have zero patience.

And I have half a mind to call Charlie and vent my stress on him, how much this traveling situation sucks right now. Except I know he worked late last night, and he’s tired of traveling too.

And really, putting my stress on him only makes things worse. And anyway, he’s going to be home tonight.

So I don’t call. I take deep breaths every few minutes, and I try not to lose my shit, and I get through the morning and get Lucky to daycare without any tears. (On either of our parts.)

And, sitting in traffic this morning, I realize that I’m angry because I’m grieving. And I’m scared of going back to the doctor.

Today’s appointment is going to be a lot of words; nothing that will actually give me hope. Because at this point, no one – not even one of the top reproductive endocrinologists in the Boston area – will be able to tell me exactly why we aren’t pregnant. Why IVF keeps failing.

And I want to do another cycle and feel HOPE that maybe we’ll bring home a baby, but I’m scared of being hurt again. I want to walk away to stop the pain, but I want another baby, too.

And I think back to Sunday night, when Lucky and I were talking about the fact that he’s going to have a new cousin soon, that his cousin D is going to have a baby brother.

When Lucky said, sort of exasperated,Mommy, when are WE going to get a baby for OUR family?

Thanks be for the fact that I actually prepared for that moment. I asked him if he wanted a baby brother or sister. He said yes. And I told him Charlie Brown and I would like that very much, but sometimes it takes a lot of time.

I didn’t tell him it might not ever happen, because I know he doesn’t really GRASP the whole concept of a sibling and what that means. He just knows that all his friends and his cousin have babies right now.

I wish I was still pregnant. I wish I had a different story to tell.

I wish.

It’s a terrible love, this ache for a ghost child.



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  1. *hugs*
    Wish I could give you more.

  2. Sad. 😦 It is also hard when you’re both feeling stressed and neither one can really take care of the other. I would say I hope your appointment goes well, except I’m not exactly sure what would constitute “going well”. I wish it was different for you, too.

  3. Oh Serenity. My heart aches for you. And my tears fall for you. Truly. I don’t know what else to say. I wish your story were different as well. I so, so wish that. Good luck at the appointment today. I’m glad Charlie Brown will be there to take care of you tonight.

    Abiding with you.

  4. I am crying for and with you.

    I wish you were, too.

  5. So many hugs here for you Serenity. I am abiding with you.

  6. I am so sorry and wish so much I could help.

    (Re: Lucky: did you see Ask Moxie’s recent post 4.5 children are bananas? http://www.askmoxie.org/2012/11/qa-45-year-old-children-are-bananas.html)

    • Lucky says: “YES! Someone understands!” (In response to this: “I do feel like a lot of kids go through one last hurrah of being babies at age 4 3/4 in which they’re clingy and vicious and particularly difficult”)

  7. Serenity, I’m so sorry you are grieving. Please know that your words help me with every post. I too have my follow up appointment next week after my 8th failed cycle that ended in miscarriage a few weeks ago. So I’m right her with you. I wish I could just email my RE my questions. I’m so sick of going into the clinic after so many fails. I’ll be thinking of you!

  8. My heart aches for you too. I wish there were more I could say or do.


  10. Being a solo parent the last week, I totally understand how you are feeling with DH’s travel schedule. I find myself so angry and frustrated, but I bite my tongue because no one likes the situation. I can’t imagine 2 weeks.

    I am glad that you know that you want to do another cycle. I know you’ve struggled with that and I hope it brings you peace to have that decision made!

    Hang in there!

  11. It so is.

  12. Jee-zus what a whopper of a post. Sending you love, light, and lightening blood.

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