Living In the In Between

I haven’t wanted to write. In the last year I’ve closed myself up and tightened my circle of trusted confidantes which has essentially silenced this blog where I’ve (over) shared for nine years. It’s just all been so much, so nuanced, so extremely personal, that I couldn’t find the words to share it with you. But I feel compelled to try because I’ve been looking around for other stories like mine and I’m not really finding them. I know they have to be out there but is anyone talking about it? About what comes after losing a pregnancy and discovering the odds are stacked too high against you ever having a biological kid? Because there is this limbo between cataclysm and resolution. The in between is a whirling dervish of emotion. And it’s really fucking lonely and sad and maddening and worrisome and, at times, cautiously hopeful. Maybe things will work out even if everything I thought I could have blew up quite literally inside of me and now I have to imagine alternatives which remind me of what was supposed to happen.

Suppose to is make believe.

My reality right now is: sometimes I can see a baby and even smile at it without wanting to cry. But then I see a newborn with the name we were going to call our kid and I’m gut-punched all over again. I think I’m getting better but then something reminds me that I am not quite there and I JUST WANT TO FEEL BETTER. These things take time but I’m sick of it. I feel weak for “still” being upset even though I don’t cry as much. I worry my friends are tired of my problems- first cancer then baby loss then realizing we won’t have our own biological kids has really made me a drag (hasn’t it?). Maybe it doesn’t matter because socializing takes a lot out of me now. I don’t want to not be asked about it but I also don’t always want to talk about it.

It’s just so convoluted and messy, you guys.

Even if I believe deep inside me this will all work out somehow, that maybe someday years from now I will see this all as a blessing (really?), right now and for the past year it’s been just terrible, awful, and one of the worst times of my life. But I’m going to try to talk about it more here because what if there is someone out there in a similar predicament who feels frustrated and alone? Maybe hearing my story will help. I need to do something positive with this shitty situation. It’s time to make lemonade out of these lemons.

 

Advertisements

19 thoughts on “Living In the In Between

  1. Don’t know if it helps, but if you write, I’m reading. We didn’t have exactly the same experience. We didn’t have to live through losing a pregnancy. We didn’t get that far before being told that we simply could not get pregnant. There are still days that it’s hard and it makes me very sad. I don’t think I will ever see infertility and the surrounding crap as a blessing. I love our daughter and can’t imagine being anyone else’s mom, but I have serious issues with the adoption process. Being her mom doesn’t fix infertility. It changes it, but I still can’t stand baby showers and certain things just make me want to kick something.

    I’m sorry this all sucks and that it’s so hard. I hope you keep writing. *hugs*

  2. Thank you for coming back to us. You are a strong person, but you are human, too, and you have always been so good about putting into words what many of us feel but cannot say. Thanks for being a voice, an inspiration in endurance and humility, and above all, caring about others you may never meet by sharing your trials here. We love you and we support you. Welcome back.

  3. I’m living in that in between right now. After loosing our 2nd baby 7 weeks ago I am awaiting results of the tests. I am so frustrated with myself – I totally feel your pain – in that getting better, feeling better, being out of this hole, finding some resolution to this is all I want. In a way if they say no, then I can move on somehow, find another way. Feels like i’m stuck in purgatory x

  4. I think it’s amazing you’re going to be writing – but don’t pressure yourself into how you “should” be feeling. (I know, easier said than done). No one gets to tell you how you should feel – not even you. We are here and reading, whether that’s every day, or once every six months. Sending you warmth and light my friend.

  5. What has happened to you does not make you a drag. It does make you human. And we humans need to learn to share the messy parts of our lives because even if it doesn’t always immediately help us personally? That sharing might help somebody else just when they need it most. So yes, please. Write here whenever you will, whatever you want. We will read. And some of us may heal, just a little bit, for reading what you’ve written. And that may not be lemonade, but it’s pretty d*mn close.

  6. Hopefully telling it helps as well.

    BTW, don’t forget the water and sugar. Lemonade from just lemons is gonna pucker you up, buttercup.

  7. As sad as this fact is, there is a whole community of people online writing about situations similar to yours. This blog maintains a blog roll of people who blog about infertility and loss: http://www.stirrup-queens.com.

    That said, although I don’t know you in real life, I feel like I know you from your writing here. I’m here to “listen” to whatever you want to share.

  8. I don’t know how to relate with your losses, but I did want to come out of the internet shadows and tell you that I’m reading, and feeling all the feels.

    xox

  9. I wanna echo those thoughts above. I don’t understand, I can’t relate, and I don’t know how to help you feel better even in the teeniest little way, but if you’re writing, I’m here reading and praying for yall. xo

  10. Sizzle we are all here for you. Over share, under share or just share, and we’re here to listen and support you and show you love because you deserve it. I hope your story is helping someone out there that doesn’t know what to say and I hope you find a story out there to help you. xoxo

  11. You are not ever and never have been even one little time a drag. We all carry each other, right? I’m glad to hear from you here. xoxoxo

  12. I definitely think finding a community who has been through what you’ve been through helps in the shitty situations. I hope that your writing here not only comforts other people who are going through similar stuff, but connects you to people that can comfort you. Sending you love and light, as always. XO

  13. This is so powerful, friend. I love you very much!

    I thought about sending this to you so many times (did I do it already??) Her story is different than yours, but I cannot help hearing the echoes of similarity about loss, about trying to figure out how to move on and create a new life vastly different from the one you intended for yourself, about folks just not getting it. 

    My colleague and friend Shelagh wrote this for the NY Times. What shocked me the most was not what she wrote, but how it was received. Fucktards galore responded to her piece with vitriol, and it made me think about the ways this world never supports women, no matter what we choose (or are forced to do) with our bodies.

    http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/09/10/life-after-infertility-treatments-fail/?_php=true&_type=blogs&_r=0

    I love you a ton!

    rae

  14. I’m with the others, Sizzle. I’m here, reading and loving you and wishing you all my best wishes from afar. Always! ::hugs::

  15. I can’t relate in any way to what you’ve been through. But I admire you wanting to write about it. I have been destroyed by illness this last year and, like you, I haven’t been able to find anyone else online talking about it. I was so ill a few months ago I couldn’t even look after my son and I sat in the doctors office and sobbed and he just laughed at me. It was from that moment that I knew I had to find a way to fight it on my own. That didn’t mean I wanted to write about it, though. It’s taken until now for me to feel able to write about it. I hate to come across as whinging or negative so I hid that part away and basically didn’t blog anything very important during the hardest months of my life. Maybe together you and I can find a way to talk about the horrors we’ve faced and the tiny but important steps we’re taking to find positivity in the situations we face. I hope you find happiness xxx

  16. I think we learn the most about ourselves during times of crisis, because they’re not neat and pretty. They can’t be easily resolved, packed away and never bothered again. Crises are big. Huge. They take a lot out of us. You’ve been ambushed by two crises in a very short amount of time. You deserve to take all the time you need to process what’s happened to you and to figure out what’s next and how to get there. It’s really not our business whether you choose to do so in private or in public. Do what makes you feel the most comfortable. I think you’re incredibly brave and courageous no matter how little or much you choose to share with me. And, I’ll always hope for a happy outcome, no matter how long it takes you to get there. xoxo

Comments are closed.