Hello, I'm back although I was apprehensive to come back. It seems that each time I come here to post or re-read my blog, it brings me back to a shitty place called reality, and sometimes, I just don't feel up to it.
After I started this blog, I told the friends that I wanted to share it with to check it out. One friend of mine doesn't have a computer and therefore cannot access the blog. She is anxious for me to read it to her, she asked me to last night. I couldn't do it. The problem is, that as of last night I fell into one of my deeper depressions, and I felt that it would be even worse if I read her the blog of my harsh reality.
Why did I get so depressed, there must have been a trigger? Now, don't get me wrong, I am usually always depressed and have learned to chug along and deal with it. But the triggers are what usually hit me like a mack truck. There can be any type of triggers at any time, they are always lurking around, waiting to strike, without warning, without protection.
This time it was a friend of mine telling me that a friend of hers wasn't sure her very new pregnancy was viable, the doctor hadn't found a heartbeat. The pregnancy is so new, about 5 1/2 weeks, so the doctor said to come back in a week and hopefully she would have a better visit and there would be one. She is having a bad feeling. I hope she is wrong and that she gets to see/hear a viable heartbeat, I really do.
Within 10 minutes of this communication, all of a sudden, it just hit me, BAM! There was no escape. All of a sudden my mind went back to November, the day when I heard the most beautiful sounds I had ever heard in my life, my baby's heartbeat. And then I got to hear the other baby's, bup boop, bup boop, bup boop, bup boop, so quickly, so strong, so amazing, so surreal, it was a dream. I was in la la land.
My girlfriend had come along to support me. She was even happier than I could be since I was in such a state of shock and fear. The third baby also had a heartbeat too but the doctor was in a rush that day and only gave me one sonogram picture as he rushed my visit. He was about to leave for vacation. I didn't get to hear the third baby's heartbeat, he was pressed for time. He promised me he would give me plenty more sonogram pictures of my babies on my next visit, or so he thought he would. That day would never come.
So last night, I cried, and I cried, and I cried, grieving the death of my dream, of my three babies that perished before my visit to the high-risk doctor. There would be no more heartbeats, no more sonogram pictures, no more dreams. It was over. And so I cried last night, thinking that if even one of my babies would have survived my lethal body, I would have been holding it right now, and it would be almost one month old. But that wasn't reality, that was a fantasy. Oh what a fool I was. Schmuck!!!!!!!
Reality is my broken heart. Reality is, my dream that became a nightmare. Reality is, not being able to sleep through the night, ever. Not even after a bunch of drinks, or vicodin, or valium.
I have so many nightmares. I wake up at least 5 times a night, thanks to my mental state, thanks to cystitis from all of the trauma to my uterus that destroyed my pelvic floor and therefore giving me the cystitis. I wake up to either pee, or from my dreams, from my restless tortured mind. I always wake up.
It's so damn ironic how many things remind me of how much I've been through, how much I have lost, and how much I will never have.
So, to post or not to post. In one way it helps me to vent my frustration and my sadness, my heartache, and my trauma. I am sure I suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder.
But in another way, it is giving in to reality. To failure. To the body that has failed me, that I despise.
I can't bear to see or be around any pregnant woman. While I was going through the cycling and infertility fight, I couldn't stand to be around any pregnant women, but after the losses, it has become even more impossible. I become extremely agitated, angry, and bitter. This is not the person I used to before, before infertility.
Did you even notice the stupid glow and smirk these pregnant women have on their faces? They think the world revolves around them. They hold their stomach most of the time. Do I really have to be subjected to this bullshit?
I most certainly can't bear to be around babies. This is something that pushes me over the edge. I feel like I can absolutely LOSE IT. I wish that I could find restaurants that were "kid-unfriendly". Why the fuck can't I eat in peace without a woman sitting at the table right next to us and sitting her fucking baby right down on the table top, talking the stupid baby talk, trying to engage the entire place, it's all about her and her baby, right?
I will never be the person I was before infertility and miscarraige. I used to be the person that would say, "I could have fun anywhere, as long as I'm with my friends or people that I love"
I was a very social human being. I enjoyed life so much. That was the old me.
The new me is much different. I am now much less social. I dread social events. I dread the opportunity for someone I don't know to ask me, "how many kids do you have?" or "do you have any children?" I dread for people that I used to know that I haven't seen for a while to ask me that. It's all anyone wants to talk about these days. Kids, grandkids, whatever!
What do I have to add to the conversation? And trust me, I certainly don't want to hear, or better yet, I DON'T CARE about your kids/grandkids. Do you have a life other than them?
There is no safe place. I try to have a life. I try to get out. I don't want all this baby shit being shoved down my throat.
The new me smiles much less. The new me is not very happy anymore. The new me?
I don't even know her, and truthfully, sometimes I don't like her, she's so fuckin miserable. She is angry. She has been let down by her body, by most of her family, and lots of her friends.
It's at the absolute worst time in your life when you find out who your true friends are, and they aren't the ones that avoid you or ignore you in your time of pain and suffering.
But that's okay, because I have taken on a new rule:
Do unto others as THEY HAVE DONE FOR YOU. After every thing that I have been through, trust me, it makes total sense.
In the old days, before and even during the infertility fight of hell, I was ALWAYS the person you could count on. The person who would ALWAYS give support. The person you could could turn to for anything.
These days I have to use all of my resources to survive since support is so hard to find. Each day being an uphill battle for emotional survival. I don't have much left to give, at least not to the people who were emotionally unvailable to me.
Okay, I think I have rambled on enough.
Let's discuss today's events.
Today I went to the beach with my husband. It wasn't crowded. There were a few kids around, of course. I can handle the older ones even when they throw a ball that lands at my feet. It's the little ones I can't deal with in my face.
I have told my husband that I absolutely will not EVER go to the beach on the weekends. I swear to you I have seen at least 3-4 very pregnant women each weekend, at least 6 months along wearing bikinis. Let's be sure the world sees that pregnancy bump! I don't know how I refrain from vomiting when this happens. I have found it wiser and safer to avoid weekends at the beach.
Every time we go to the beach we deliberately walk further away on the sand to try and find a very unpopulated spot for some peace. Today, we find that spot. It last about 2 hours. This is a very uncrowded section of beach. There is no reason for ANYONE to get close to our proximity. But of course, it happens. A pack of morons with a baby stroller park themselves no less than 6 feet in back of my husband. The baby won't shut the fuck up. It's crying. I feel my guts swirling inside of me. I am the type that would say love to say something like, "there's miles of beach, did you find it absolutely necessary to camp yourself right on top of us?" but of course my husband would kill me. Normally he would be angry with me for doing something like this. I just asked him what he would have done if I had said something, and he answered, probably nothing. Note to self for the next time this crap happens.
One thing I have not mentioned is that my husband is not the one who wanted a baby, in fact, he never waned a baby, but I will save that story for another post.
He has done what he needed to do through 11 ivfs and 4 iui's even though he never wanted a baby, and for that I am extremely grateful.
I truly believe that he has lost the person that he fell in love with because she left this life a few years ago. He now lives with a different woman. One who doesn't have the zest for life that she used to. One that surely isn't as funny and silly as she used to be.
One who smiles much less. One that looks forward to much less.
I try to distract myself and make as many plans as possible to keep myself busy. It seems that reality always comes back to hit me in the head like a baseball bat. Still I exist to endure another childless day. I'm trying very hard to live this life that I have been dealt. To live out this jail sentence for a crime that I never remembered committing.
Sorry for this miserable post today. I don't want to be a miserable person all of the time, but then again, how do you stay positive when the only thing you ever wanted to be when you grew up, was taken away from you. Something completely "normal" and "natural" that you never would have thought would be IMPOSSIBLE.
To Post or not to Post. Maybe I should've poured another glass of wine instead?
I'm going to call my friend now, the one who wanted me to read the blog to her. Hopefully she will pick up and I can read it to her, while I have the nerve. While I am on a role.