My sister is due to have her baby any day now. She's not actually due until early June but her doctor seems to think it's highly unlikely that she will make it to her due date. I haven't written much about it recently because honestly I really haven't thought much about it. Living away from your family has its advantages... Anyway, it hit me last night that her due date was rapidly approaching and that if she follows the pattern from her other two daughters by delivering 2-3 weeks early it could be any day.
Perhaps unsurprisingly this sent me down the path where I spent most of today thinking about all the things I'll never get to experience. Like picking out a baby's name. Or decorating a nursery. Or holding my child. Or telling my husband that I'm pregnant. Cue an ugly cry. Next came the self-depreciating phase of the ugly cry where I cursed my broken body. I hate that something so good and happy (for other people) can reduce me to a mess of tears. I hate that this whole grief thing seems like three steps forward and two steps back. I wouldn't wish this on anyone.
To give myself a little bit of credit, I'm actually handling this better than when I found out she was pregnant. Or when I found out my other sister was pregnant. Or when my niece was born in February. So that's good. Hopefully I my down in the dumps phase has passed and I'll be able to handle the birth relatively well. If I don't handle it well, I don't have to go meet my newest niece until I'm ready.
When I initially found out she was pregnant and heard her due date, I had everything crossed that she didn't have the baby on hubs' birthday, our anniversary, or my birthday, all of which were very realistic possibilities. Hubs' birthday and our anniversary have already passed and it seems unlikely that she'll make it to my birthday. I'm so happy that we won't have to share any of our days!
You hit the nail on the head when you said, "... this whole grief thing seems like three steps forward, two steps back." As much as those two steps back can and do hurt, you've recognised that you are still further ahead than you were just months ago. One day soon your brain will stop letting you think about the things you won't get to do. After all, all it does is cause you pain. And that's when you will realise that you can take three steps forward without always taking two back.
ReplyDeleteSending hugs.
Part of me thinks it has a lot to do with timing, too. In the last 14 months I was diagnosed with infertility, we made the decision to not pursue treatment, I found out that two of my sisters were pregnant, and one had her baby and the other birth is imminent. And that's not even counting the three friends and four colleagues who have had babies in that time span. I think that all of this has forced me to confront my grief head on.
DeleteIt never rains but it pours...! :( As Sarah says further down, that's a LOT to pack into 14 months. Here's hoping the next 14 will be less eventful. It DOES get easier, in time (but it sucks while you're going through it...!). (((hugs)))
Deletecarissima BnB,
ReplyDeleteI know all about The Grief Monster. And The Grief Monster was always the hardest when each of 6 children was born (2 to my brother, 2 to my cousin, 2 to my best friend). Those children are now aged 3 - 9 years, so for the last 3 years The Grief Monster hasn't visited me (and as far as I know they are not getting any new children, I am on a safe side).
Just a note: I love those children (especially my oldest niece). But handling their coming to the word was just hard.
un abbraccio forte,
tua amica Klara / Chiara :)
Per favore, carissima Klara. :) With as much as I would wish that no other person would ever have to go through this, it does give me reassurance to hear that other's have gone through it (and survived) too!
DeleteThat grief monster can strike out of nowhere. Yesterday, I was sad over the fact I would never have a little girl to dress up as a princess. I hate how the smallest things can set me off. Thankfully, that though only lasted a minute and I didn't end up with a huge meltdown.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry you got a visit from the grief monster too but I'm glad it was a short visit. It's just hard. We never know where the triggers are going to come from, yet they hit hard and fast. Big hugs headed your way!
DeleteYour past 14 months have been packed with heartache and triggers. That's a lot. Sounds like you really let your uninvited guest (good ole grief monster) come on in and do its thing.......I'm all for that whenever possible so it won't come bite me in the ass 10 years from now in multiplied form.
ReplyDeleteI though I was happy the closet in our tiny bedroom (that would have been a nursery/child's room but is now my yoga room) is storage space for yoga bolsters and extra shoes. But when I was changing out winter to summer stuff last night the empty clothes rod made me cry:-(
You nailed it, Sarah. I went through something really difficult years ago and at that time I chose to deal with it by not dealing with it. Essentially I shoved "it" in a box, stored it away on a shelf and tried my damnedest to forget about it. And then a little over 10 years later it bit me in the ass, hard. With the help of a great counselor (and a bit of pharmacological intervention as well) I learned that this was not an effective strategy for coping with difficult things. When the floor fell out from under us, when we realized that kids weren't going to be in our future, I made the conscious decision to confront all of the bad stuff head on. It's so fucking hard though.
DeleteI'm sorry that the grief monster struck for you too. It's so hard. It's not fair. Sometimes I wish I had the inability to feel.
Oh, I feel for you. If I could, I would give you a big hug. It makes dealing with not being able to have children harder when we are surrounded by family who are able to have children. And the unfortunate thing with family members who can have children is that there is no way we can 'get away' from it. When my sister was pregnant, she would phone me up and complain about what a pain her pregnancy was because of the constant morning sickness and aches and pains. And then when her child was born, she sent me a lot of photos but I was always getting those not only from her but from my father as well. Both knew I was in the middle of fertility treatments but to them, it was just a word. Fertility treatments didn't really mean much to them at all.
ReplyDeleteIt's a shame really. Family should understand that we can't help but feel sad because it is, as you said, just a reminder of all the things we miss out on.
This sister (who is on her third unplanned pregnancy, by the way) hasn't been to bad about complaining. The sister who had a baby in February was much worse about complaining about pregnancy to the point where I finally had to send her a text and tell her that I was not the best person to complain about pregnancy to.
DeleteI completely agree that infertility/fertility treatments don't mean a darn thing to people unless they've gone through it. They might have a basic understanding, but they're incapable of grasping exactly heart wrenching it actually is.
I'm genuinely happy for both of my sisters (and anybody who gets their much wanted pregnancy/baby), but I'm simultaneously gutted for myself. I describe it as happysad.