January 21, 2009

PIECES OF THE CRAZY PIE

It's been two years since we started trying to have a baby.

No two journeys are exactly the same, but I have been fortunate to know several different ladies who each understand one piece of the crazy pie.

A girl I know here in town, she understands the obsession. She was a charter and a planner. Though it only took her a few months to get pregnant, she remembers vividly the obsession with the science aspect. Like me, she never stopped picking up her charts and comparing month to month. She knows the agony of knowledge and the grief of searching for some medical indicator of why things don't seem to be working.

Another person from my Real Life understands the bitterness. She is mad, mad that she grew up, finished school, got married, got a good job, planned and saved, and now is stuck frozen in time, just like I am. She also hates her high school health teacher for saying that Man + Woman = Baby, because for some of us, it just simply doesn't. She is the only person I know who is as bitter about her lot in life as I am.

I am eternally grateful to know Darla, who like me counts the chickens far before they're hatched. Every month I too check the due date calendars online and plan for a baby nine months later. She and I remain hopeful to a fault, because the overwhelming evidence in our faces should make us slit our wrists rather than start picking out names. But we do it anyway, torturing ourselves with hope. I am glad to know Darla can still do that after seven years, because I have felt crazy for doing it for two.

And on the flip side, my best friend from high school understands the despair. She understands those days when you wallow and feel like it will never happen. Because although she eventually went on to have children, she never fully recovered from the emotional damage the journey took on her. She never gives me any platitudes, never tries to cheer me up, never tells me that things will work out. She keenly remembers the despair, and she too is a bruised orange.

And this Army Wife, whom I recently discovered because of The Worst Possible Thing, understands feeling like a biological failure. When the majority of people on this planet can and do reproduce, and you slowly realize that you can't, it is a severe blow. I feel like we have lesser genes, that we are faulty, that we are not the fittest and thus shouldn't survive. I've never heard anyone else even mention how not getting pregnant or miscarrying feels like a personal biological failure. Reading that on her blog made me finally feel normal about that one piece of the crazy pie.

These women help me realize I am not alone and I am not insane. I am so grateful to each of them for what they have taught me along the way.

Two years.

Damn.

Posted by: Sarah at 06:27 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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1 OMG - miscarrying TOTALLY made me feel like some kind of biological failure over and over and over again. It was one thing to see people I knew who were good and upstanding and hard working never have to experience the way life has to stop for a few days completely when a miscarriage happens. It was another thing to watch some of the worst parents-to-be on Earth continue to procreate without hiccup. I mean, seriously - Britney Spears and Kevin Federline? Are those genetics REALLY the best to pass along to future generations? Sheesh. I never doubted there was a God, but sometimes I sure felt (and still do for various reasons) that he must enjoy twisting my screws for some reason.

Posted by: airforcewife at January 21, 2009 06:32 AM (Fb2PC)

2 I quickly learned, after writing that post about my miscarriage, that feeling like a failure is all to common. I got emails, comments, etc saying "I felt the same way" I think, in a way, it's normal. Honestly, how can you NOT feel that way after your body fails you? People just don't talk about it enough, which is unfortunate. Because if they did, maybe we would all feel a little better about ourselves. That's why I wrote that post. I needed to get it out there. I wish you the best in your attempts!

Posted by: The ArmyWife at January 21, 2009 08:49 AM (AViuz)

3 No matter how hard I try, I can't make this into a pee joke. Nicely played, My Lady.

Posted by: Chuck at January 21, 2009 09:22 AM (bQVIy)

4 Ditto to AFW's comment... I figure those of us who have been there have all run the full gamut of emotions, for varying durations according to our individual personalities and experiences. For God's part, I don't think He enjoys it any more than we do, though... The ArmyWife brings up a good point - we *feel* that we're alone because people don't talk about it much, but when we reach out, we find we're in quite good company. FWIW, it took us 2 1/2 years (of absolutely NOTHING... for no clinically identifiable reason), and now it's been two m/c since Kiddo, who's approaching three. I figure things will work out for the best, even though I'm sure there will be more tears along the way. (I know - I'm a total freak with my opti-pessimism...) Hope you're able to find joy in your many other endeavors; you make a whole lot of lives better! :-)

Posted by: kannie at January 21, 2009 09:37 AM (iT8dn)

5 kannie, Sarah has made my life better, to say the least. Even in her darker moments, she still sheds light on aspects of the human experience I knew nothing about. I can never claim to understand what she and so many others (including you, I'm sorry to learn) are going through, but she never fails to make me think and feel. Even those of us who have never struggled with this have known failure, or at least fear it. Chuck called Sarah a "lady," and indeed she shows us how to honorably deal with the worst of situations without denying her pain. She keeps fighting on. That's not insane. It's inspiring.

Posted by: Amritas at January 21, 2009 11:29 AM (+nV09)

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