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.
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.
But still.
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.
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10 comments:
If you are evil than so am I becasue that was my first thought when I read the e-mail. She had two. Two. I;m sad for her but sadder for you.
That last comment was deleted because the commenter asked me to--because she decided to remain anonymous and didn't want her comment "out there" not because it was offensive or because I don't welcome open debate. And, you know who you are--thank you for your sentiments. ((RBAY))
No boos but just applause because your honesty is brilliant. It just completely sucks that we must experience this bitterness.
hey frenchie, go easy on yourself. I've been there. it sucks to feel that way, and even harder to admit and then dislike yourself for it. but you know what? it's ok to feel that way. it's the beast of infertility that can steal our joy and make us bitter, and affect our ability to feel compassion for those who have what we want. even when crappy things happen to them too.
it's natural to have that reaction when you've been robbed of the ability to have a single healthy pregnancy with a real live baby at the end. you just had the courage to articulate what lots of people feel. that longing never really goes away, does it?
I lost my first son when I was 27 weeks pregnant. I don't know how I survived that till this day. Luckily I became pregnant again three months after that loss, and now have a beautiful 2 year old son. I once again had a miscarriage at 10 weeks just two weeks ago. I know it may be hard to believe, but the pain is the same no matter what, 27 weeks, 10 weeks, with other children or without, I can tell you this from experience.
I recognize that for many women the loss due to miscarriage or stillbirth may be similar regardless of timing and number of children.
I do think that dealing with infertility adds another layer to the loss. A woman who has trouble conceiving has the same feelings of loss as another woman does, but there is that added layer of "Is this ever going to happen for me???" On top of the pain of losing your baby, you have to deal with the pain of the possibility you will never be able conceive and/or carry a baby to full term.
I know you shouldn't compare losses. There is no logic to it - it feels how it feels, but I am going to do just that and say, "I am with you 100%"
I don't even feel bad about it. I just get angry that someone would compare the two.
I had someone tell me they went through the "exact same thing". She used "exact". Let's see, we both had late term losses. We both had infertility. Except she had embryos in the freezer when she had the loss and a year later had her baby. At this point it was two years after my loss and two more miscarriages later.
Thanks for letting me vent my own stuff!
I agree with you. I found your blog today and I'm glad I did. I find your honesty refreshing.
I share in the earlier applause for your honesty in this post. You hit the nail on the head, particularly regarding how that moment of learning your pg is not "viable" changes so very much. Bravo to you for articulating what we all feel so acutely. Loss is tough, but it's especially tough when you don't know if you will ever get what you're after.
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