This post could also be labeled, "The One In Which You Decide Frenchie is Really Not that Nice of a Person After All."
I got an email this morning. This was from an old friend, and it was one of those "catch up" emails since we haven't been in touch for many many months.
Somewhere in the middle of the email was this line:
We had some happy news and then some sad news recently. My sister was expecting baby #3, but lost it at about 4 1/2 months. It was a little boy, just like my nephew was hoping for. She's doing ok, but some days are worse than others. It's just sad, as I'm sure you can relate.
Okay. First of all. I am sorry for your sister's loss. That is horrible. Yes, I too have experienced a miscarriage, and it was in very early pregnancy. Even so, it was horrible, and I still grieve that loss. I can't imagine, nor do I want to ever know what it is like, to lose a baby that far along. Horrible. Terrible. I can understand on some level, yes. It saddens me to hear, and my heart goes out to your sister. Really. I hope she is doing ok.
But then there's the other side of me. The ugly side that has been broken and bruised by infertility. The side that says, "No, I can't relate! Uh, did you say baby #3? Oh, you did. Well, I'm sorry of course for her loss, but she has 2 children already. She has had 2 (from what I know of your sister--and I've never met her) blissfully wonderful pregnancies that turned into real live children. So now she has experienced a loss. Yes, a terrible loss. But hey, welcome to a little taste of my world. Yes, I know what it's like to have the happiest moment of your life turn into the saddest in one single instant. It sucks. It's a loss of more than just your baby. It's a loss of the innocence and the hope that you had before this happened. The innocent world you lived in where good things happened to you because you are a good person, and because you expect things to go well. You expect to be happy and to have happy outcomes in everything. After miscarriage, you don't live in that world anymore. And, no, I don't wish it upon anyone. Not your sister. I'm sorry.
Yes, I understand.
Wait, no I don't understand. She has TWO children. And, from what I know of your sister, once she is healed and ready to try again, she'll have no problem getting pregnant again. And chances are, it will result in a healthy baby for her. And I hope that's true. I realize the loss of that baby is not just a loss for your sister, but for your whole family. Her husband, the other two children, and the rest of the family who were all anxiously and happily awaiting this new life. I get it. My heart goes out to you all.
But that's the evil part of what has become of me thanks to Infertility. I feel for your pain, but at the same time, I'm actually jealous. That's right. Jealous. I've had ONE. ONE! Pregnancy. It ended. I was not ever able to get pregnant again since. When I had my miscarriage, I didn't have two children already with me to hold and love on. I was absolutely back to zero. Apparently, that was my one lucky/unlucky shot at pregnancy. So see? I don't really relate. I wish I had the ability to get pregnant by just having sex with my husband. Not that I want to experience another miscarriage--no--but if I could at least GET pregnant that would be something! Something to give me some hope to carry on trying.
Anyway, call me bitter. Call me a bitch. Call me unenlightened. You may be right.
AF arrived this morning with all her glory, my last cycle before I turn 37. Cue curtain. Go ahead and BOO me. Go on. I'm not too big a fan of me right now either.