There Are Good People in this World

You see, early last winter, I decided I wanted to start a personal blog. Freshly started in graduate school and navigating my second year of marriage and my second pregnancy, I looked forward to the second trimester after Christmas and planned to blog about embarking on my crazy “adult” adventures. I had my second miscarriage before the end of the year, but despite that, I still went live with my blog on January 1st. I befriended random people, people with writing or publishing connections…on occasion, though, I would type “miscarriage” into the topic search bar and look for other bloggers out there who had been through what I’d been through.

And that’s how I met ACalmPersistence.

I followed her blog for a while, super paranoid that I would somehow be “found out” by any family or friends following my blog if I commented personally on her entries, so I tried to be as generic as I could while reading her struggles with medicated cycles and cysts. Finally, though, I decided I wanted to reach out. Desperate for a connection with someone, anyone, that wasn’t a friend that felt bad for me but didn’t understand a bit of the pain I was feeling. It’s funny to think that about six months ago, I was nervous about reaching out to someone about this…knowing what I know now of the RPL/IF community. About how desperate we all are to find that particular empathy that is difficult to find anywhere else. I reread the email over and over and over, wondering if she’d be mad at me for contacting her, wondering if it was inconsiderate of me to mention my own losses as if by comparison, wondering if she would even want to talk about it with me. A complete stranger. An “internet person.”

I was wrong.

What followed was a good string of at least five, if not a few more emails back and forth. I was just starting to navigate my way through the world of RE’s and infertility testing and procedures, and I was terrified and missing my babies. She was in the midst of it and was more than willing to offer advice, and to share her experiences, and just be a generally nice person to me. It was a relief. It was she and another blogger that I became friends with for different reasons (who then suffered her first miscarriage shortly after I started following her) that most likely led to the creation of this blog. I realized that there were others out there like me, suffering in silence and bearing a pain we can’t see or touch. I realized there was a place for me.

And these months, following my second miscarriage and during the seemingly never-ending four months of testing and procedures, held the darkest days I’d had in a while. I was struggling. And getting on Twitter and WordPress, even anonymously, honestly helped me heal. And it all started with her.

And Saturday afternoon, after a few hours looking at houses with my husband, we return home to find a package sitting on our doorstep. What waited for me inside brought me to very literal tears.

photo

“I believe in this for you!” ❤

A little light-up ladybug, a envelope marked “Dear Friend” with a card and heartfelt note written inside, and finally the piece that actually made me catch my breath: a little teething ring/rattle. The very first actual baby gift I’ve received in my life.

I was overwhelmed. I knew something might be coming for me eventually, as she’d obviously asked for my address several weeks earlier, but this…this…I was not expecting! I let out a yelp, as I was sitting on my bed resting when I opened the package, and my husband came in asking what was in it. When I showed him, he just smiled. I told him who it was from and he said, “She didn’t need to do this.” I couldn’t agree more.

But she did.

This, coming not even 24 hours after she announced on Twitter that she’d confirmed her fourth loss. My heart, although happy and thankful, was breaking for her. For someone to be going through her own struggles and yet still take the time to reach out to someone else and root for her the way she has for me…words can’t do my gratitude justice.

I’m sorry, this is an awfully mushy-gushy post. But I feel like I owe it to her. I owe it to her to let you all know how lucky you are to have someone like her as a friend in this community. She truly is a one of a kind person.

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Ye Old Obligatory Post

Honestly…

I’m not sleeping.

I’m stressed out at work as I have less than three weeks before I transfer to my new permanent full-time position.

The whole house-thing is stuck in limbo until this weekend when J and I will up and out ourselves to look at yet some more candidates.

I’m panicking about the fact that we only have one car, and I start school in less than four weeks.

I’m panicking about my stupid leg, despite the progress I’ve made (it’s never enough, is it?).

So, yeah. I’m tapped. I can’t even type up a real post for y’all. And writing yesterday’s post about Robin Williams really sapped me of a lot of energy, too. Emotional posts can do that to you.

So, here you go. Here’s an absolute shit post in which I just bitch about how tired and stressed I am. I’ve also been without a husband for nearly two weeks, so, that’s not helping matters.

Roll on, Friday. ❤

Too Much

Where I am: 7w4d
Medications: Crinone
Symptoms: tired, sore boobs, nausea, slow digestion, food (and smell) aversions, congestion, headaches


I woke up this morning and felt like the nausea was gone. Granted, I barely ate anything yesterday because I felt so sick, and then barely ate anything today until I came home and had a huge dinner. I actually just stuffed my face, regardless of the “small meals” rule, because I want to pretty much induce the nausea.

How fucked up is that?

My boobs still hurt. I guess I can take comfort in that. And I’ve been congested the last few days.

I overdid it so bad this weekend. Physically, mentally, emotionally…I was dead by Sunday afternoon. My arm and good leg muscles ached. I was exhausted. On Monday, I had a migraine and the little food I ate (fruit, some bites of chocolate, ice cream, chips and dip…I know, wicked healthy, right?) gave me the shakes. I got in bed before 8:00PM, and fell asleep by 9:00PM. I slept nearly twelve hours last night. That alone was a testament to how done my body was with me.

The panic and paranoia has set in. I feel like it’s all going to be over on Friday. Nothing anyone tells me will make me feel otherwise. I just feel this dread, from head to toe. I find myself wondering what it’ll be like when I’m back on the other side, again. With three losses under my belt. Back to square one. Unable to face my family ever again during the holidays as I reach two years since I told all of them we would be trying to have kids.

And I fucking hate it. Because should this pregnancy miraculously continue, I think I’ll feel guilty about how little I enjoyed these first twelve weeks.

I’m overwhelmed by everything. Not just this pregnancy. But everything. I overestimated how much I thought I could handle.

I’m sorry I haven’t been commenting on your blogs, or responding to tweets. I’m definitely withdrawing, which is usually what I do before I slip into depression. I’m trying to be there for you guys, and know I have been reading as many of your tweets and all of your  blogs I can manage. I just don’t have the energy or concentration in me to comment. I know that makes me a shit friend. I won’t be offended if you guys return the favor. I don’t expect much attention if I’m not giving it.

But know that I’m thinking of you all. Those of you starting or in the middle of new cycles, some of you who are very freshly pregnant and stuck in the realm of uncertainty, those of you who are progressing with your pregnancies and have reached milestones such as viability or the anatomy scan or are almost due. And those of you who’ve received heartbreaking BFNs lately. And those who have received BFPs only to be devastated by a chemical pregnancy. I’ve been following all of you. I’m thinking of all of you.

Why I Don’t Mind Seeing BFPs in the Community

I know that, for many, seeing others in the IF/RPL community get BFPs can be hard. As much as we want to support each other, as much as we want to see others succeed, it is still hard to not wonder, Why not me?

And I understand that. I feel it sometimes, too. I see all these women popping up with their BFPs on here and on Twitter and, as soon as the congratulations are out of my mouth, I feel that little pinch of jealousy…of envy…of resentment. What about me?

I’m part of a group on the Baby Bump app I downloaded the week I got my first BFP last year. There are message groups/forums abound on there, and while I haven’t made any everlasting pals on there like I have on here and on Twitter, I do find some comfort there. The group I am a part of was for women starting new TTC cycles in April, and was a small amount of people (less than 20 members) and we all started posting on there. We shared our stories. We shared our symptoms. Most of us shared our BFNs. But two women shared their BFPs. Right off the bat, they were successful and the rest of us were not.

And I felt it again. The old faithful, Why them and not me? Why? WHY? I felt jealous, I felt sadder for myself.

Well, within a week each of announcing their BFPs, both of them miscarried. For one it was her third, for the other—her sixth, and last. She’s given up at this point. It’s too painful for her. She can’t deal with it anymore.

Another person I found here on WordPress earlier this year  just announced last week that she has lost her second pregnancy.

And that, my friends, is why I don’t mind seeing your BFPs. Your pregnancy posts. Your post-pregnancy photos. Because I cried when these three women lost their sweet little could-have-been babes. To see more losses only breaks my heart in a way it doesn’t break when I see others being successful when I’m not. It hurts more.

And it scares me, too. I feel such hope and strength when I watch you ladies being successful on medicated cycles, successful with a viable pregnancy even after so many losses. But when I see someone lose another baby, again, it terrifies me. It makes me wonder, but in a different way: What about me?

What if what happened to them, happens to me…again?

I know everyone is entitled to their opinions. I don’t speak for the whole community. I know that each and every one of us needs to protect our hearts, our sanity, and that means doing what is best for us in the moment. And sure, there may come a day or two when I don’t feel the same temporarily…or, maybe, permanently. But for right now, I love seeing your posts. I love seeing your success. It gives me hope. It gives me the strength to keep trying. It reassures me that sometimes, it does work out. ❤