I have been silent for a very long time. I truly thought I
wouldn’t be coming back to this blog, because I had nothing else to say. I was
infertile. I had suffered. And now I was moving on. The problem is that I didn’t.
I instead wrapped myself up in lonely nights of TV watching & wine. I
attempted to see psychiatrists and psychologists to help me through the pain,
but the pills didn’t help, and I didn’t know what to say to those who asked, “What’s
wrong?” I couldn’t put it into words. How do you explain to someone what losing
a baby is like? What losing two babies is like?
I have become obsessed, OBSESSED, with reading infertility
blogs. I’m constantly searching out a new story. I go straight for the painful
entries and I try to relive it with that person. I then skip over the happy
endings (when they exist) and head to the next blog.
The main reason I needed to write here today is because I’m
pregnant. I’m estimated at 7+ weeks, and I have an ultrasound and first meeting
with the doc on Thursday. I’ve gone in for three blood tests to track my HCG
levels and all three times the numbers have more than doubled. My last number
was 14,750 last Thursday. This is great news, amazing, and I should be on Cloud
9. But I’m not.
I am terrified.
I have barely existed, barely lived for the past year. I
have fought against this cloud of depression for so long that it’s hard to
remember what I was like before. Now I have this life inside of me, and I am
aware at all times that the light can so easily be snuffed out. I am preparing
myself for tragedy even though the news has only been good. I am preparing for
no heartbeat on Thursday. I am preparing for tears and sorrow and pain, because
that’s what I know. It’s almost what I’m more comfortable with.
I want to be happy. I want to be relishing in this period of
my life. I want to be making plans and thinking about what kind of mother I’m
going to be. I want those things, but they are not my reality. I have a
different story that causes me to look at the toilet paper every time I wipe,
waiting for the spotting.
My husband and I were talking last night about how I’ve been
feeling, and he asked me “What is good to you?” I was very confused, so he
asked me if Marshall (our adorable rescue shepherd mix) was a good dog. I said
of course! He went on to ask me what makes him a good dog. I said because he
listens to us, he cuddles with us, and he loves us so unconditionally.
Dennis said, “If every dog was like him, Marshall would no
longer be a good dog. He’d simply be a dog. We need the bad in order to have
the good or we wouldn’t know the difference. We were a bad story, but now we
can appreciate the good even more.”
Thank you for reading – I’m hoping that this can turn into a
blog of joy and anticipation, but we all work at our own pace, and mine is a
slow one.