A blog about babies: the babies I lost, the babies I never had, the baby who made me a Mama.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Returning; or, Confronting Anniversaries

Last night I cried myself to sleep. I can't remember the last time that happened--maybe the spring. I was remembering the d&c and reliving moments I had forgotten over the past 10 months: remembering how it felt to lie on the table as they hooked up the IV, tears running hot down my face into my ears and leaving cold tracks behind. I remembered sensing the doctor moving around the room and shouting (or so it seemed, it probably wasn't loud at all) "Don't do anything, I'm still awake!" And the nurses trying to focus my attention on other things and then finally losing consciousness. I remember waking up hunched in a ball with awful, searing cramps and a relentless need to vomit.

I remember moments of the pregnancy or the miscarriage frequently, and usually the memories lack the terrible charge they had during those first few weeks and months. They've regained much of that power recently, though. The weather's changing and I wore my grey wool tights and grey wool skirt to teach in yesterday. I remember standing in front of my classes in that outfit last October and November and thinking, "I'm pregnant and no one knows" and wondering how it was possible that something so amazing could be happening inside me without anyone sensing it.

I guess it's true that anniversaries are hard. Will you believe me if I say that I didn't think this one would be? I did okay when the potential due date came--I didn't dread it overmuch, didn't mourn incessantly, indulged in a few tears that night but was otherwise fine. But this is utterly different. It isn't just that I never thought I would still be in this terrible place a year later. It's more like my heart is involuntarily returning to that time over and over and over and that the grief is coming back with an edge it had lacked for a very long time. And I haven't even hit any of the dates of the pregnancy, I just feel them coming.

I'm tired of being sad. I want to be happy again. I'm tired of being a person who feels burdened by the past and who dreads the future. I want joy and lightheartedness, but I don't see the place for them in my life right now when everything is so heavy and dour.

20 comments:

  1. It's weird how the change of seasons immediately sends us back to the previous season and all of those memories that seemed distant suddenly become crystal clear and overpowering.

    I'm sorry that this time of year back so many hard memories back to the surface. And I hope you'll be replacing them with some happy memories very soon.

    {{hugs}}

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  2. I want you to be happy again, too. I want all of us to be happy again. But the truth is that happiness comes and will continue to come in waves. Miscarriage and infertility changes you. Whether that change is permanent or not, I don't know yet. I'll let you know if I ever make it out of my own purgatory (or, better yet, you let me know; I'm confident you'll be out of here before me!). I hope that you find that happiness soon. I have so much hope for you. Even though it doesn't feel like it, you are at the beginning. The beginning of the end. And at the end, I truly believe there is happiness waiting.

    xo

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  3. ((((((Hugs))))))) Grief is a funny bitch; she has no rhyme or reason. My heart hurts for you.

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  4. I know what you mean. The weekend I found out about my ectopic there was a festival going on here. We had friends in town and there was confetti everywhere, and I was so sad. This year when the festival rolled around again it was a really sad time for me, even though I was pregnant again. Those anniversaries of sadness are just awful. I also know what you mean about thinking back on the innocently-pregnant you. I had those giddy little feelings too, of my body housing a miraculous secret. It makes me really sad to look back on that, because I didn't get that at all with this one. I just had a sense of impending doom. Remembering the giddily-pregnant me makes those losses even harder, it still does.

    The grief for that baby is with you, but I don't want you to have to grieve your current situation any longer. I am really optimistic about you getting pregnant soon, with Dr. Woman's help.

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  5. I am so sorry..Infertility sucks and while we try to learn as much as possible throughout the process, the bottom line remains that it's incredibly difficult, draining journey.

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  6. I'm so sorry, Sloper. Anniversaries are hard, the season in which they lie often comes with sadness. I've never been pregnant, but my mom died in November, years ago, and I still hate and dread that month.

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  7. I'm sorry SS. Grief sucks and it seems to be inescapable for those of us who haven't been able to get pregnant again afterwards....not that it probably won't always be there a little, but I think that it's way over-blown when we're still standing here empty-handed as many other people that were in our situation move on.

    I'm so sorry. Email me if you need to....I'm right with you.

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  8. I'm so sorry. (((Hugs))) I like what Katie said about happiness coming in waves. I hope a big happy wave is coming for you soon.

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  9. Huge (((hugs))) Sloper. I know this is a difficult time and like Al said, when the seasons change it inevitably leads to memories of that season a year ago. But just think of all the forward-moving steps you've taken in the past few weeks. You are well on your way to much happier memory making. xoxo

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  10. I'm so sorry, babe. Seasons definitely bring memories with them. I understand the state you're in right now. I just hope it's not long-lived. You deserve tons of happiness. I can't wait until that comes back for all of us.

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  11. i like how a+b said it about changing seasons and memories coming back. sloper, i am genuinely soo excited and hopeful for you now that you've picked an RE and are moving forward. even for myself and the fact that we have male AND female issues, i truly believe that i'm gonna get my babies some day soon. for you, i absolutely believe it's gonna happen. and sooner, now that you've picked a doc and an awesome clinic. those folks KNOW what they are doing. trust in them and you're gonna make some awesome new memories soon :o) xoxoxoxo.

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  12. For what it's worth, I was there with you, several states south, crying myself into a sad sleep, too. Our reasons for this may be different, but that engulfing feeling of sadness is the same. Ugh. I am genuinely sorry that you're in this place right now, Sloper, but I feel so confident that this direction will change. Which isn't to minimize your feelings at all, but rather to say that I am so hopeful that this is a temporary state.

    Sending a big warm squishy hug...

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  13. Oh god, Sloper, my heart breaks reading this post. I know you are in the depths of darkness and the suffering is unbearable.

    I am hoping that once you get this RE stuff rolling, you're going to feel better. You're going to be DOING something and I trust that will help soothe these open wounds. And I have faith that Dr. Woman is going to fix you up and get you good and pregnant. And I know this sounds crazy, and I know it won't fix your broken heart completely, but it WILL help heal you in profound ways. You need to move forward and you're stuck in waiting, in purgatory.

    I wish we could go back to that cafe in Union Square for some tea and tears....and laughs. I'm thinking of you. Biggest hug you can fathom. xoxo

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  14. Maybe your heart & mind need to work out the pain of that time before you can fully move forward and that is why you keep going back to it. You cannot move on if you don't grieve. Cry, scream, rant, kick and give the world the bird. No one would blame you.

    Sending lots of hugs and lots of support.

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  15. Sending you lots of ((((hugs)))). When you said you stood in front of your classes thinking "I'm pregnant and no one knows" I flashed directly back to my summer classes thinking the same thing. I would be explaining a concept and my mouth would be saying "when chlorine gains an electron, what is it called?" but my mind would be thinking "there's a tiny little baby inside of me." How could people possibly not know how wonderful it was? And, when it was gone, how could they not know that things had changed forever and were now horrible? Anything that brings back that feeling is really hard.

    We're here for you as you go through these tough dates.

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  16. I know exactly how you feel. I want you to be happy again, too, and so wish you didn't have to go through any of this.

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  17. Oh, Sloper, I'm so sorry. I was standing out in the rain tonight, walking my pups without an umbrella, and I thought of you, and thought that we should take our canines out together sometime. It sounds as though it's high time I gave you a hug, and my furries (one especially) give some fierce licks. I'm thinking of you, confident that the hard won't last forever, but I hear you: it's damn hard not knowing where the end is.

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  18. I just want to say I understand. I have never had a m/c but have just had my 3rd failed IVF and I understand that grief and those raw emotions. I too just want to be happy again and in control of my own life. This may sound silly but I went to a kinesiologist. It was all about energy and I confess to being slightly sceptical. However just saying the words out loud that I will be a mother I will get pregnant I am not infertile actually allowed me to start letting go of this massive ball of grief that was churning up inside and getting bigger and bigger.

    So today when IVF#3 failed instead of falling apart on the toilet seat and feeling knocked out by another punch to gut I said to myself no way. This is not the end. It doesn't stop here. I am going to get pregnant and I am ready I believe in myself and more importantly THIS IS NOT MY FAULT. This infertile crap is so not your fault and you need to stop blaming yourself. This is going to happen. The end line might keep moving but at some point it is just going to stick and you are going to reach it. Nuture yourself and remind yourself that you are a good and deserving person and infertiltiy can go and take a permanant hike out of your life. Strong words I know but for me they made today that little bit more bearable and let me come out swinging to face another day. Big hugs to you. (wow epic post sorry about that)

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  19. Anniversaries of loss have always been harder for me than unfulfilled due dates. I'm not sure why. Maybe because, like you, I remember the actual losses quite vividly, whereas the due dates exist in some pie-in-the-sky alternate reality:( I'm sorry, Sloper. This stuff lies dormant for weeks, months sometimes. And then it creeps out and it feels like you are right back in that mud, mired so deep that you can't even breathe. Hugs to you.

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  20. This post had me in tears. It brought me back to my own sad anniversary dates. Much love to you. I pray your happy days are coming soon. <3

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