More control?

After 10 months of grieving, I finally feel like I have control of my emotions again. And truthfully, that kind of scares me because now I'm wondering if a part of me hasn't just "accepted" that I just may never get pregnant again... that I just may never become the mom I dream of becoming.

I get sad when I think of that - never becoming a mom. I do. In fact, I sit here and type this with tears in my eyes and a heavy feeling inside. Yet, I'm also "OK" with this and it's mainly because I just don't have a choice to not be OK with it.

I'm going to be 37 this year. Yes, I know it's just a number. Yes, I know there are many women who have children well into their 40s. But I'm also obese and have high blood pressure.

And I quit coloring my hair again. ;)

Seriously, time really is not on my side and I fully understand and accept it because I just don't have another option when it comes to my age and having babies.

Sigh.

While the OPK's didn't detect ovulation last cycle, the thermometer did. So that is a huge relief to me because at least I *am* still ovulating - something I wasn't very sure I was doing since the surgery. I think the plan for this cycle is to temp and FWAP and pray... Pray, pray, pray that this will be our cycle and that we can welcome a baby in the new year.

If I detect ovulation this cycle and if I don't manage to get k/u, I think I'm going back to the doctor. I just cannot continue going on like this until end of July - one year since the surgery. Because even if I do go back and they start testing everything, who knows how long we have to wait after that for some answers.

Blech.

S is totally on my side with this - as he should be. I think he's getting a little "tired" of the wait, too. He's getting more and more questions from his mom, from friends about when we're having kids and I think it's finally starting to wear on him, too.

A part of me wants to shout it out that YES! We ARE trying, we WERE pregnant but lost it, we WANT to become parents... but... ugh. I don't want the pity, I don't want more questions.

I just want to be a mom.

What a week!

This first week of November has been quite an eventful one to say the least. It started out tremendously well with the new President-elect being named Barack Obama. I can't ever remember a time in my 36 years when I've felt so proud to be an American. And while I know that I'm not alone in that matter, the voices of those that feel very differently, sadly enough, have been quite loud, too... including some in my own family (specifically my SIL, married to my own brother).

But I have confidence that Obama will prove all the naysayers wrong and really make this country shine again... and I cannot wait! And I'm so immensely proud to have been a part of it all.

That's the good stuff from the week. And it really is so incredibly good, thankfully.

But then things took a turn for the worse... personally speaking, and all I can say is that it's a damn good thing I've been in a much better place regarding my loss three months ago or I would've had a bigger meltdown today than I did.

It started with an email I got on election day Tuesday from my grandmother's cousin's daughter in Europe. She's a couple years younger than me, been married for several years, has two young boys. She told me she was pregnant again, this time with a girl, due in March (when I was due). She seems happy so I'm happy, but seeing March as the due date was very unexpected and it stung a little.

I couldn't respond to the email right away but did the next day, which was the same day one of my friends' baby shower invites came in... my friend whose husband never wanted to have children. Sigh.

Then on Friday I learned that my old boss's 21 year old daughter was expecting a baby. In March. Double Sigh. (Friday was an even worse day because it marked the three year anniversary of the day my nephew - brother's son whom he has no contact with - moved out of my brother's house and in with his mother, ultimately starting the demise of his young life, and, coincidentally enough, November 7th marked the three year anniversary of the day my dear Grandfather passed away. It's a day I will never forget no matter how much I wish I could.)

But the kicker to the whole week was the news I learned last night. Apparently my racist SIL, married to my brother who hasn't had contact with his one and only biological child in well over a year, is pregnant.

I cried after I found out. The tears flew out of my eyes for several minutes, while the ugly thoughts ran through my head and seeped into my heart: I don't understand why I'm not a mom yet. Am I not meant to be a mom? Was I put here just to be an aunt?

Believe me when I say these are thoughts that have invaded my mind during more occasions than just last night and this morning, but last night and this morning, the thoughts consumed me again.

It hurts so much to know that there are people - every single day - giving birth to children they or their partners never wanted. It hurts me so much to know that my SIL and brother are expecting another child, when the two she has have no contact with their different dads and the one he has he has no contact with.

Why do these people get to have children? Why do these people get to be called Mom and Dad? And why don't I get to have a child? Why don't I get to be called Mom?

I finally told S what's been going on. He listened and tried to rationalize it all, which I appreciated and needed. And he made me realize that it really is probably a good thing I lost the baby at the end of July - specifically because of how sick I was in October with the ear infection and shingles in my mouth. He did his best to make me believe again that things really do happen for a reason.

And I just really, REALLY have to believe in that - that there's a reason everything has happened the way it has and, more importantly, that I will get to be a Mom when the time is perfect.

Ghost Whisperer, Loss, Empathy

I was watching Ghost Whisperer Friday night. It was a new one. The main character, Melinda (Jennifer Love Hewitt) is trying to get pregnant ... in addition to her ghostly duties, of course. The show is making it seem as if she and her husband have been TTC for a good five months or so and the episode before Friday's left the viewer wondering if the tired, dizzy, and nauseous Melinda was indeed knocked up.

Friday's episode opened with her in a doctor's office gown sitting on a doctor's table with her husband dressed in his paramedic's uniform standing behind her. The doctor comes in and tells her that she is not pregnant and she and her husband Jim agree. "We figured that out after the 10 negative pregnancy tests," Melinda whimpers.

She tries not to get too emotional, Jim tries to comfort his wife.

The doctor tells them that they should worry less because they indeed were pregnant, but it didn't stick, and that he was going to run some tests and they would figure out what happened and what they can do in the future to assure she gets pregnant and stays pregnant.

I wasn't happy with this because why would she get 10 negative HPT's? Wouldn't her beta's or whatnot have registered on the HPT's even if she had recently m/c'd too? And wow, her doctor rocks to be running tests and shit with her first and only m/c, after only trying for five months to get pregnant. All while people like me - in the real world - have to endure two or more m/c's before a doctor will look further into things. But it's a television show and at least they're trying to approach the subject.

The remainder of the show carried on, with a few moments throughout where Melinda was touched by the love two mother's were showing. Then the closing of the show: Melinda comes home and tearfully tells Jim that she saw these mother's love their child so incredibly much even though they knew that the child they were loving and raising wasn't biologically theirs. She then asks Jim if he would consider Adoption should they not be able to conceive and he says that he of course would consider it but that he ran into the doctor. And poof, the doctor prescribed some hormone drug that Melinda will take and will allow the baby to stick next time. They smile and tears are in their eyes and they hug and the show ends.

Because it's as simple as that. Ack!

I was happy to see a show touch on this subject. It's nice to see some reality out there. But hot damn, it sucks they have to make it seem like you just take a pill and everything is going to be OK.

Sure I'm a little sensitive about it all but with as common as miscarriages are these days, it would be nice if more women who endure them were able to believe and realize that they aren't some sort of freak show or something. And it might help with others who've never dealt with miscarriage or a loss to be more empathetic towards those of us who've gone through it. Because if there's one thing I've learned the past three months regarding pregnancy loss vs. people who haven't experienced it is that telling someone you are sorry and saying that you feel for them is not the same as being empathetic; saying it out loud doesn't matter when every other thing you do implies that saying it once is enough for someone who's had a loss to move on.

I can understand that some people who haven't endured a loss (at any stage) might view an early loss as something that isn't as ... painful (or whatever)... than that of an actual baby loss. I can understand that. I mean I certainly cannot - for one minute - completely fathom what it's like to give birth to a child, to be able to hold a child, look at him, touch him... and then lose him. I cannot fathom. I cannot pretend to fathom. And my heart aches just thinking about it; however, that doesn't mean that those of us who've suffered a loss at a much earlier stage don't endure pain, too.

And that's what I think some people think about... I think they think that since the baby wasn't fully formed and/or born, it must be easier for us to heal.

Well, it's not.

We all deal with pain and loss differently. I think most of us as human beings can appreciate that.



I don't know what my point is exactly. :(

I guess in my disappointment with some people who I'm extremely close with and who knew of my loss, I was hoping for a little more empathy than one, "I'm so sorry." Yeah, I'm sure you were sorry but just because you never mention it again doesn't mean I'm suddenly OK with everything. How hard is it - despite what's going on in your own life - to ask every so often how someone is when you know they've gone through something rough?

I know it's not a comfortable subject. I get that you don't want someone to hurt even more by bringing something up that was painful. But you don't have to. You don't have to even mention the loss; I promise! Just simply send an email asking how the person is doing, asking what they've been up to. And don't make it about you. Just one email, one phone call a week or a month - and make it about them. That's empathy... showing someone else that you care about them, that you're there to listen to them, that you want to help ease some pain without making it about you.

And that can really impact someones life.

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Please note that I'm not trying to be passive aggressive with this post. I'm in a much better place these days regarding my loss, regarding moving my life forward. I think it's because of this that I'm able to write more freely and openly regarding what it was like to endure a miscarriage - and go through it basically alone. I've always been a very private person, always lacking trust in others. So it's not uncommon for me to keep all of this to myself, to work through all of this on my own. That's a part of who I am and I do not blame any one person for this fact about myself. I do not ask for help, I try to do it on my own.

That said, I realize this post may reflect that not one person was there for me the past three months... and that is the farthest thing from the truth. While there were a couple key people in my life that have never really mentioned the loss since they found out, for the most part, everyone else who knew tried to reach out to me on more than one occasion. And it's because of those people that I was able to learn that it may be about time that I let some of my guard down... that it's OK to show some vulnerability at times.