Thank you

Your support and kindness are the best medicine. (or is that is?)

I’m not sure what more to say right now. I am really, really, struggling. I think it was a ‘straw that broke the camel’s back’ kind of weekend. I was all set to accept another BFN. I was pretty ready to move on to adoption and be fine with that, even a bit excited at times. Then this ridiculous glimmer of hope. This ridiculous, barely positive, beta. Now I feel like I’ve just taken 2 steps forward and ten steps back.

It’s also the time of year. I hate Christmas. I was never one who loved it, but it was a happy enough holiday for most of my life. My family was not religious so Christmas was more about special foods, an extended school break, and gifts. It wasn’t all that much about family either because I am an only child and our family of three immigrated across an ocean away from all the rest of my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents. Then my grandfather died on Christmas Day (Well, technically we got the call Christmas morning) so for years after that it was a sad anniversary. And now? Now it is a reminder of how much I wanted to create my own Christmas as an adult. How I wanted to create my own family and my own traditions. And we have, somewhat, C. and I, but the family part is missing. Acutely, painfully, missing.

Our marriage has become stronger through all of this. That is a testament to our love. It has not become “better” and certainly not “happier” but that is a testament to the pain of infertility. We’ve been dealing with infertility for most of our soon to be four year marriage. That saps a lot of the joy out of it. Not that there has not been joy. But when we look back, joy doesn’t paint the main picture, it more like fills in the edges and the gaps. It is the glue that holds us together but it is not the substance.

C. is hurting too. I know he is. He hides his pain even more than I do. Sometimes I wish we could just hold each other and cry. But we don’t. We both try to spare the other the pain and in some ways this causes a whole new kind of pain. I feel like I “can’t” cry for his sake and sometimes I resent that and when he does such a good job of holding his feelings in, I feel shut out, and I wonder whether he feels anything at all, and then I resent that.

And to top off my mood of doom, Maggie is dying. Everyday we try to assess whether this is the day. The thing is, it’s so hard to decide “when” when it’s a gradual decline as it is in kidney failure. It’s been extra hard for me because while she’s more C.’s cat than mine, I have been taking care of her through this. (He is working crazy hours driving a big brown truck delivering everyone’s online shopping sprees.) And while I fully expected this cantankerous cat (she’s always had a mean streak to put it mildly), while I expected her to hate me due to all the torture of forcing medications on her, trips to the vet, etc. She has done the opposite. She clings to me. Follows me, sits with me, on me, etc. Here this nasty old cat has become my constant companion and snuggle buddy and one day very soon I/we will have to euthanize her.

It all breaks my heart.

I want this infertility thing to be over. I am just SO tired, SO sad, SO broken, SO spent.

I am not good at grieving. I am good at suppressing my feelings until they all of a sudden burst out and take me unawares. I may be the queen of self delusion.

It may seem crazy, but I really actually thought I had a chance with that measly 4. And then of course there was just the mindfuck, as you guys like to say, of wondering what the hell it means. Does this give me a better chance? Should I try some more? Does this mean I am fucked and should just hurry on over to my friendly adoption agency and get the ball rolling??

Well, here I meant to say a simple thank you for your support and I’ve rambled on again! I don’t really know where I am right now, where I stand. I am in a dark hole, wallowing in sadness, self pity, and in pain. It’s the kind of pain where talking doesn’t feel like it would help because if I start talking I start to cry. I could call up any number of friends and go out for drinks or whatever but I am too afraid of public tears. I am also just so fucking tired. So, I am keeping to myself. I go to work and paste a fake smile on, make small talk about the weather or the holidays. Then I go home. And because the effort to keep the fake smile from falling off is so great, it wears me out. I come home and put on fuzzy PJ’s and curl up in a ball. Sometimes I curl up with mindless TV, sometimes with mindless knitting (anyone need a scarf?), sometimes just napping with a cat or two or four. C. has eaten pizza, fast food burger, frozen dinner, etc. every night. I can’t even cook a meal.

I’ll will find my way back, life will go on, but right now I’m just not sure how it will or how it should go on.

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26 Responses to “Thank you”

  1. Anonymous Says:

    I feel like you walked around in my brain right before you wrote about Christmas and hiding feelings and not cooking. I haven’t done laundry, dishes, sweeping – nothing. It is all I can do to shower and get through work right now. It sucks. I have faith it will pass though. I’m glad that I’m not alone. I’m thinking about you lots.

  2. Just another Jenny Says:

    Beagle, I hadn’t read about your loss yet and I am so sorry. Dealing with the what if’s is one of the hardest parts.
    I am also so sorry about your cat. Add the holidays onto that and no wonder you aren’t feeling great right now.

  3. Lucy Says:

    I tried commenting yesterday but Blogger was giving me a hard time so I couldn’t. I’m so sorry for your loss. It *is* real, which makes it all the more painful, I think. It’s one thing to say, “Oh, it didn’t work again.” It’s another thing to say, “It worked and then something happened.”

    I have no words of wisdom for the best course of action – that is such an individual decision for you guys to make. But I did want to say that you are NOT pathetic (one of your words from yesterday) … you are normal and you’re just like so many of us who just want this stuff to work.

    I’m glad to read that your marriage is stronger because of all of this. That’s what it’s all about – the love you two have for each other is what gets you into this mess to begin with (and I say that in a good way). Don’t forget that. I hope you guys can be extra kind to each other and help each other get through this.

    Wish there was something I could do for you other than offer more words.

  4. Anonymous Says:

    Oh, Beagle. You do whatever you need to in order to get through things right now.

    I wish I could do more than just offer online support.

    I am thinking of you and wishing you som measure of peace in the coming weeks; hoping that the dark clouds lift for a little while.

    I am so sorry.

  5. Anonymous Says:

    Thinking of you.

  6. GLouise Says:

    thinking of you, dear Beagle

  7. daysgoby Says:

    B – Thinking of you.
    XX

  8. My Reality Says:

    Thinking of you more than you will know. I hope Maggie can give you some kind of sign as to when the time is right. It isn’t fair that you should have to deal with all of this at once.

  9. Lindy Says:

    Oh, Beagle. I just saw the news. I’m so terribly sorry for your loss.

  10. Thalia Says:

    oh for heaven’s sake love, burble away all you need, it’s not like the rest of us are that coherent most of the time.

    I totally hate this time of year. Used to love it, I love buying great presents for people. But you can only buy great presents if you’re in the mood, and I am totally not.

  11. Anonymous Says:

    I totally understand where you are coming from; after 2 failed ivf’s we found out before thanksgiving that we were pregnant, only to miscarry 2 days later–hcg levels were low as well.
    I wish I knew the answer why this happened. Please know how sorry I am for your loss and your pain. Like heather said, it just sucks.

  12. annmarie Says:

    Beagle, this last summer I decided to stop thinking about infertility and cycles and started observing how things made me feel. It’s what brought me to adoption. It just felt right. I can’t explain it any other way. Maybe your decision will come about in the same way. Do what feels right, and you certainly don’t have to decide today. There is no easy choice. Whether it’s IVF, IUI or adoption, it’s all an expensive waiting game, but I know my choice feels good. I hope you can be comfortable with your next steps.

  13. Anonymous Says:

    I am so sorry for all that you have been through recently Beagle. I am thinking of you.

  14. Barely Sane Says:

    I’m sorry about Maggie. I’m sorry you feel so down. I’m sorry you dont have a shoulder to cry on, because a good cry can be such a wonderful release.

    Dont worry about what decision to make – when the time comes, you’ll know in your heart which path to take.

  15. Millie Says:

    Oh, Beagle, I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m so very very sorry because I know how hard that is, and how much harder it can make everything else.

    Don’t ever apologize for rambling or what you write here. It’s your space to do whatever you want, whatever you need.

    Thinking of you so much.

  16. JEN Says:

    Beagle, I can feel your heart breaking when I read your post. I’m sorry this sucks so bad for you. I’d like to hold your hand and let you cry on my shoulder. IF is so draining and takes over so much, my prayer for you is to find the right path for you and C, so that you may again find peace and joy. I’m also so sad about your kitty, but maybe when maggie gets to heaven she can put a rush on your prayer.

  17. Kath Says:

    Oh, sweetie. Holding you in my heart and hoping the pain gets less and the way forward becomes clearer soon.

  18. Lut C. Says:

    I don’t feel much like cooking either.
    Though, I can generally be persuaded to make pancakes. It comes out of a box, little to no intellectual effort, and you get to pour on lots and lots of maple syrup. Yum!

    On Christmas, we should design our own line of holiday decoration. Gloomy, main colors black and purple, it would be a great hit. Syringes with colored fluid for tree ornaments, that kind of thing. 🙂

  19. Kristi Says:

    I’ve been where you are now. I know exactly what you’re feeling. It sucks, this time of year more than any other. But if there’s one thing to keep in mind here is that your goal is to become a parent. Take this time to grieve, as you should, and when you’re ready start taking the steps you need to take to make your goal a reality.

    I am keeping you, and C, and Maggie in my prayers. You have so many of us out here thinking of you.

  20. Hopeful Mother Says:

    Beagle, I just wanted you to know that we are here for you, just like you have been for us. We know what it is like to struggle and just get by, to deal with BFN after BFN. And all of it on top of the holidays.

    I understand your questions about the “how and should” of moving on. We often end up with more questions than answers. The unknown is what is the hardest, I think.

    But know this – we are here for you. Give C a hug and let him give you one too, from the blogland.

  21. The Town Criers Says:

    I don’t think now is the time for a decision. There will be time for that later–but you’re mourning a loss right now. And you need to mourn it before you take a look at what it means and what you want to do with this new information (and sweetie, not only do I wish things had turned out differently for this baby, but I wish life could just be easy. That decisions could be clear-cut. You were in this one space before this and I wish you could be magically transported back there).

    I’m so sorry.

  22. Sarah Says:

    Beagle, I am so sorry to hear that things are so sad for you right now. The holidays can be a terrible time even when someone isn’t battling IF. All I can say is that I send you a huge hug. You are strong and will make it out the other side, but in the meantime, just know that we are all thinking about you.

  23. Ellen K. Says:

    I am so very sorry, Beagle. I’ve never had a positive pregnancy test but I think that if I were in your situation, with that kind of beta, I would feel very shaken. I’m thinking of you.

  24. Anonymous Says:

    You have summarized it so well here: “I think it was a ‘straw that broke the camel’s back’ kind of weekend. I was all set to accept another BFN. I was pretty ready to move on to adoption and be fine with that, even a bit excited at times.”

    IF is a rollercoater of ups and downs and maybe’s – I really don’t know why we all don’t self destruct. I know your situation is a bit different here, but with every failed IVF cycle I go back to adoption and try to convince myself I am ready, acting only to fill the void of the immediate pain. It never works, and nor should it because I am doing it for the wrong reason and I need to mourn that loss. Once the immediate pain of the failed cycle passes a bit I am once again excited about adoption and ready to go forward.

    I am sorry you have so many other situations going on right now and you will be in my thoughts.

  25. Anonymous Says:

    I’m so sorry for your loss, and for your loss of Maggie. Thinking of you, many prayers for you and wishing you some peace

  26. Starfish Says:

    You know I’ve said a million times that I’ve been there. My best advice is to pick a day, run a bath, sit in it and cry. Cry your heart out. You deserve to grieve for your fertility. You don’t have to worry about your husband. Trust me, you will feel somewhat better when you do. It won’t fix things, but it will help you to breathe a little. It worked for me.

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