Wednesday, March 03, 2010

Thank You

I wrote last night's post right before bed and then pretty much slunk my weeping ass to bed, where I let sleep make it better, until Ethan woke up at 1am, at which time I slunk over to his room and let his feet burrowing under my legs and his still-a-baby breath make it all better.

I was overwhelmed to wake to an inbox full of your kind condolences. Not that I don't realize how wonderful and supportive you are, interwebs. I know I can always count on you to have my back and to say nice things to me that make my very real hurts feel just that little bit better. But really, thank you for taking the moment or two to respond to my post. Infertility is such a lonely place and it's like a big hug to read your words. And to those of you who said you are also dealing with infertility, I hope you never come to a night like mine last night. I hope your path leads you to a happy place where there are kicks to feel and heartbeats to hear and names to pick out and a lifetime of happiness with your child.

Right now it feels very much like there's been a death in the family. Closing this door is essentially cutting off life support to a dream. I am grieving harder than I thought I would. This giving up has been in my mind for a while now, so I expected I would take this day, when it came, with far fewer tears than I'm actually shedding.

But even though I have been curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor sobbing once or twice in the past 24 hours, I can feel that this is not going to break me. It hurts something terrible right now, but I can feel somewhere on the inside that this is not going to send me to the dark places I've been to in the past. I don't know whether it's the year of therapy I had in Los Angeles that gave me such a sense of myself and my strength or if it's just the realization that my life, as it is right now, this moment, even as this dream dies, is good. And better than what a lot of people get.

This morning, dropping Ethan off at preschool, one of my friends who'd read my blog post from last night, grabbed me up in a big hug that kind of knocked the air out of me with all it wordlessly said. I've known this woman for a few months and given that, you as my reader, know she has of course heard about every ultrasound, every shot, every procedure I've undergone in that time--because I am nothing if not an over-sharer. And things like that hug make me so glad that I am. And waking up to an inbox full of thoughts and concern for me from so many of you, many of whom I've never even met make me so glad that I cannot keep anything to myself. I promise to find some joy to share with you soon.

Thank you so much.

7 comments:

lonek8 said...

I am so crushed for you. I went to bed before your post last night, so I have only just read it, and I can only imagine the heartbreak you are feeling. I saw my parents struggle with secondary infertility for years (I gave my mom her shots on a trip once when I was FOURTEEN) and I am so sorry that you have had to suffer this. please know I am always here if you need an ear, and I wish I could give more than a virtual shoulder to cry on. Remember my offer, and if there is anyway I can help you I will.

AJU5's Mom said...

I thought about saying "Sorry you are going through this," but that is all I can think of. As hard as a miscarriage was for me, I knew it wasn't the end. I have no idea how you are feeling, but I pray that "your joy will come in the morning."

Corinne said...

I just read your post from last night.
I'm so sorry. I wish I had the words to help you through this - but it sounds like you're doing what you need to do, thinking the thoughts and feeling the grief that is necessary.
So many hugs to you, lady.

Erin said...

Just read your post from last night - and while it probably doesn't mean much from a stranger (but reader, though seldom a commenter, for 2-ish years now) - my heart sunk when I saw what you had written and how you were feeling. Hugs to you - and I love your statement, "The miracle you pray for is not always the miracle that you get." How true!

Anonymous said...

one more for you, you and becca are the reason for my girl today , when I was on 180 degree bedrest, yes I ate lying doen pped lying down etc ..i read ur blog and found the strength to do it...in fact I shd give you also credit along with my peri(s) credit for bringing my girl into this world.I had no support from parents frnds nothing ..except my Dh .

Anonymous said...

one more for you, you and becca are the reason for my girl today , when I was on 180 degree bedrest, yes I ate lying doen pped lying down etc ..i read ur blog and found the strength to do it...in fact I shd give you also credit along with my peri(s) credit for bringing my girl into this world.I had no support from parents frnds nothing ..except my Dh .

Jen said...

Sarah - I am just reading your posts now and am so sorry. Although I've been reading and commenting for awhile, I've never actually said how much I admire your courage and strength shown each step of the way. (Not to mention keeping your sense of humor!)

I know you'll be OK from the sounds of your posts and you have your amazing Ethan, but, I also know that that doesn't take away from the disappointment you are feeling right at this moment.

My heart goes out to you...

Although I'm not in your situation, and can never know what you are feeling, I will say that you are not alone! I'm going through some similar struggles right now as it relates to the realization that I'll probably only be having one child and it is sooo hard. I feel so blessed to have my amazing three-year-old girl but it doesn't change the other feelings. It's all so complex.

You are a courageous woman and a wonderful mother...take the break you need, that your body needs...and who knows what the future will bring.

Sending virtual hugs from SF!