If you haven’t figured it out already, we are lost out in the sea of infertility once again. We always knew when we learned of Elliott’s pregnancy that there were no guarantees he would ever have a sibling, but life did play games on us and brought our sweet treasure, Oliver.
Since then, we’ve known we’d definitely try for #3 and maybe #4, but again, we were never foolish enough to believe it would be easy, nor did we take our chances to land another Oliver at 6mths postpartum.
This time around we decided to be careful, be precise, and plan. Of course, life has a way of reminding you that we aren’t in control when we decide to get serious about our plans. We started not REALLY trying, but not preventing last summer (2015), just a few months before I returned to work, it just seemed like the perfect time. Most people would think I am crazy, but I had my heart set on having just 1 more year off with my eldest son home, in my life plan this just seemed right.
As it would follow, because life is shit when it comes to fertility -for us at least- I had a chemical pregnancy in Aug. then another mid-1st trimester loss in November after testing positive and planning all the things you plan when you learn #3 is coming.
We didn’t always try each-and-every-month because we’ve learned not to take it so seriously after 3 heartbreaking losses. I’ve personally lost a lot of faith in this journey, because when life puts you on the brink of choosing between living and dying, I think that’s when you should be given your break, am I right? But NO, it doesn’t! We can’t exactly have trust in the system of fertility.
This lengthy journey (in which I’ve been unwillingly kidnapped and locked in the trunk of a car) stretches us so thin we find ourselves taking absences from work and life, because leaving the house means pregnancy and fertility are rubbed in our faces everyday.
I’m tired of it! If you must know, I’m not strong, I’m not brave, I am no ones hero. I didn’t choose this journey to prove to you all how courageous I am! Someone threw me into the lions den and said “If she can do it, then we all can”. But that’s not true, if I succeed there still isn’t any gurantee to anyone else out there, that’s what makes this shitty situation so damn lonely. Just when you think you’ve found a friend that suffers with you, bam! One of you is suddenly pregnant and so consumed with guilt because you’ve left that person you care about on the journey alone. Did you hear me?? You can’t even be happy for yourself anymore. It is your own personal dark cloud that follows you, even when your rainbow is shining brightly across the sky.
So, After a few consults with a new OB/GYN I found myself back on the fertility drug band wagon back in May, after 3 cycles I’d find out we are expecting #3, this time I was (almost) certain this one was for real, except that that persistent dark cloud waters seeds of doubt. I wanted sooooo badly to hang onto #allthegoodvibes but it wouldn’t matter anyway, because this one would become the most painful loss I’ve experienced thus far. Yes folks! It does get worse, even when your certain you can’t take anymore!
If miscarrying a baby isn’t hard enough, not miscarrying a lost baby is by far the worst. When your body decides to be the biggest douchebag of all time and continue a facade of pregnancy – because it’s funny as hell to taunt weak spirits – and you learn far too late that there is no baby at all. That is a particular kind of living hell.
Needless to say, I ended up on an operating table, in the most vulnerable positions, unconscious while a doctor literally scraped away all evidence of pregnancy from my body.
If you’ve been wondering what that’s like, your crazy AF, because seriously who would want to know that kind of emotional wreckage?
I’m writing this now, because as of October 1st (just 2 days after my surgery) and everyday since, reminders of infant and pregnancy loss have been plastered all over my Facebook and social media. I don’t know if friends are being kind and sharing for my benefit, but it doesn’t help. I know I’ve failed, I figured out the statistics, and I’m not just 1:4, I’m 4:6, I’m 100% broken, I’m damaged goods, I’m a failure, I’m functioning at less that 50%. My heart and my body aren’t just on different pages, they are in whole different books.
The most lonesome part of this whole thing, is literally being alone. My husband and I, we are most definitely suffering a heartbreaking loss and we have each other, that is most certainly true, but to the rest of the world it’s like this is a contagious disease. Yeah, we get the odd reach out from social media, but that’s the easy part. I’m not sure I want you around while I ugly cry, but seriously who is here with me when my heartbreak keeps me awake crying all night? I watch my kids all day long, with a broken spirit and much less effort than they deserve, because I am human and I can’t take it all on at once, but I haven’t exactly had “friends” knocking down my door to help. Of course, I’m not even sure I want any of you here anyway.
I am the only one who has experienced my particular brand of infertility and loss, that is the tricky thing about this story, it’s a completely customized torture to suit each person differently, that way it ensures that we actually do suffer completely alone.
I know what you are all thinking “You should consider yourself blessed to have two beautiful boys” obviously I know that I do, but that is the most enragingly inconsiderate thing to say to a person like me, and by that I mean empty. This is going to be a completely new concept to a lot of you, but a blessing does not sit on the other side of the weight scale to balance life out, it’s just a small light.
If I sit in a dark room alone and hurting, does it hurt less when I turn the light on? NO! The hurt is the same, no amount of light (or blessings) change that! Period. Not now, most definitely not for this type of hurt.
That darkness burns and scars its memories much deeper into our brains and hearts, it changes our composition for the rest of our lives. A blessing, on the other hand, is more like gasoline or oil they keep us running and functioning, but it doesn’t fix what’s already broken and damaged. And that’s what my beautiful boys do!
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, there is no easy way to live through this. I’m not better, I never will be. In fact, as we speak, my body is sending me constant reminders of what I’m trying to forget. Since I was in fact pregnant for 13 weeks I still get the dreaded postpartum reminders; uterine contractions, lower back and pelvic pain, and the hormonal drop. There is no blessing is that!
Long story short; stop raising awareness of infant and pregnancy loss, unless your actually going to BE AWARE! Be aware of how deeply it scars, how dark these feelings of loss are, how real an unborn child is, how real these feelings are, how lonesome the journey, and lastly, there is absolutely nothing you can do or say to take it away.
Let us heal!
Xo Leslie (aka Ella)