Our birthmother gave birth to a boy on March 9th. She called on her way to the hospital asking me if I was ready to be a mom. She called after he was born to congratulate me on finally becoming a mommy. We talked throughout the night. I was on cloud nine. But then, at 8:00 am the following morning, our caseworker called to tell us that she had changed her mind and was going to keep the baby. I was frozen, as I felt my world collapse around me.
It is surprising how this failed adoption has brought back so much of my deepest, darkest infertility baggage. For so long, I felt like I was in a much better place than I had been for a long, long time. I felt like I had really dealt with a lot of my grief and loss issues related to our infertility. But then, BAM, it hit me right in the gut. A not-so-gentle reminder of how my body has failed me and how because of this failure, if I ever want to be a mom, I will have to keep putting myself through the wringer. I feel like I am back where I was two years ago--at my lowest point in the infertility journey. Clearly I have a lot more work to do.
After the fateful call from our worker, I went into hiding. I sent a message to my friends telling them I wasn't ready to talk and that I needed some time to myself. I allowed myself two weeks to feel miserable--crying, lying in bed, crying, eating cookies, crying, crying, and more crying. After two weeks, I decided it was time to get back to living. What I found out was that living is hard, especially when you have to do so much explaining. Everyone wants to know what happened, why it happened, and all of the dirty details. Augh.
And here we are, right back to the infertility dance. It seems like when you are dealing with infertility, or any other kind of loss for that matter, the person who is grieving ends up spending a lot of time trying to care for everyone else's feelings. When going through fertility treatments everyone wants to know how things are going. When you explain that the treatments aren't working, they start apologizing and saying all of those things that people say to try to make you feel better. And then, for me (and I think many other people), this weird thing happens where I feel like I need to comfort the other person; to tell them, "Oh, it's okay, I am fine...blah, blah, blah." Why don't we ever say, "Yeah, the pain in my heart is debilitating and most days I don't think I can go on living." Nope, instead we tell everyone that we are fine so that they don't feel uncomfortable.
After I returned to the world of the living, after my two-week cry-fest, I jumped right back into the lies; telling everyone I was okay, when most days I struggled to even get out of bed. I went to lunch with a friend who chastised me "disappearing off the face of the earth for two week." She was upset that I wasn't there for her--she too was upset that we lost the baby. I am now able to see how absurd it was for her to expect me to be there for her, but, of course, I starting apologizing and trying to comfort her. I need to work on this. I need to let people feel what they feel, but more importantly, allow myself to feel what I feel and to be honest with myself and other about my emotions.
To all of you reading this who are dealing with infertility, I challenge you to be truthful about your journey. This doesn't mean you have to tell everyone the details of the process but be honest. Allow yourself to be sad when you are sad, to hurt when you hurt, and don't apologize. You deserve to feel what you are feeling, without apology.
And to those of you reading who love someone who is dealing with infertility, I challenge you to support, acknowledge, and validate the feelings of those you love. Infertility is often a very lonely journey because people tend to keep their pain inside. Encourage your loved ones to talk about how they feel--how they really feel. It will make a world of difference to them.
My heart breaks for you. I previously wrote having been through what you are going through. Allow yourself to mourn, to cry and to believe that you will be a parent someday. This totally sucks and you have every right to be angry and hurt. But your baby is out there-we would not have the daughters we have if our first adoption wouldn't have fallen through and if our first 4 in vitro attempts would have taken. The girls we have are so worth the wait. Your baby is out their and once he or she is in your arms the pain will diminish- I promise. And this Sunday give yourself permission to retreat and hide from the world and just think about yourself, and know that next year will be better and it won't always hurt this much.
ReplyDeleteAs I read this I sit with tears in my eyes. I, too, "deal" with infertility. I, too , have kept my feelings bottled up inside so I won't upset others. But your right, I should be sharing what I am feeling. I shouldn't hide the fact that every time my friends have a baby I brake a little inside. Or if I see a mother and dad with their kids at a park, I want to cry, scream do whatever it takes to let it out. But I sit in silence. No emotion. Just faking a smile. I feel if I have to go to another baby shower of one of my teenage cousins I may have a break down, but If I don't go, they think I am sulking and being selfish. Maybe I should be selfish for once in my life. I...I want a child. If that makes me selfish so be it.
ReplyDeleteThanks for your comments, they mean so much to me.
ReplyDeleteFor the first year or so that we were dealing with infertility, I kept everything to myself. I cannot tell you how much opening up to my friends and family has helped me. It hasn't always been easy, in fact, at times it has been really hard but it has been worth it.
Like I said, infertility is lonely but I would encourage you to try to find a support network and to take care of yourself. I truly believe that taking care of yourself means being open and honest about your feelings.
Also, about the baby showers, take care of YOU. When I first started this journey, I sat through some extremely painful showers. In fact, about a year in, I threw a baby shower for my sisters and have no idea how I survived that. It was soooo painful. I finally got up the courage to say NO. At first people did not get it and some people were downright mean, but the more I talked about my journey, the more people "got it". You should not have to suffer through the pain of baby showers--send a card and gift, give an explanation--or don't. Just love yourself enough not to put yourself through that pain.
HUGS!