Tuesday, August 11, 2015


I hadn't seen my in laws, including my sister in law Hermione, since Easter dinner.   Handled that one like a champ when I elegantly sobbed in a back room, because my baby is dead and she has my due date for the first grandbaby.

I had given her some thoughtful gifts at Easter, including some earrings with her baby's birthstone, but I never heard from her.  I texted her about some other baby stuff people had given me that I obviously didn't need right now, and she didn't even respond.  I guess it's for the best because my bad baby juju might catch via text or my bad juju things.  You know, I live in a world where babies die.  A lot.

We went to my in-laws for a few hours, actually on the way to somewhere else, and Hermione was there.  I didn't know she was going to be there, but there was no way to prepare anyway.

She was beached flat on the sofa watching Family Fued.  And there it was, the big old reminder that I SHOULD BE SEVEN MONTHS PREGNANT.  I didn't feel anything on the surface.  That self-hate and grief is much deeper now, and I carry it around for later, taste some leftovers later when life starts to taste too sweet.  I appeared cool, so I hope that helped everyone else's comfort level.  Nobody said a word about any babies or heartbearts.   Just like Easter.  I don't even know if it's a boy or a girl.

First I beat myself up with all my failures.  That's always fun.  Why did I bring my mother in law when there would be no heartbeart?  Hermione and I had talked about a joint baby shower.  Oh god, do I still have to go to that shower?  What kind of god would want that?  She is really having the first grandbaby.  I bet they were talking about the nursery or something until I walked in.  At least I didn't end up thinking about all my sins that made me deserve this.

And then I found my thoughts in a new space.  Cattiness.  I'm not saying I'm proud, but this is where my thoughts went.  Middle school girl cattiness.  We are on fire at work, and they are struggling.  They can't even afford for her to take her FMLA leave.  Her baby daddy is in a nasty custody battle, and has been since she met him.  I don't even know how they have room for a baby in their place.  And their baby gets to live.
Hermione was always a big girl, and pregnancy really did a number on her.  I've been working out two hours a day.  I almost have visible arm muscles, though obviously my yoga zen is not working.  Her legs were swollen like someone from My 600 lb Life.  Her jaw was swollen into her neck, she was so sweaty.  And she's got two more months to go!  She didn't even get off the couch when guests came in.  She looked like warmed over hell.  Somehow that made me feel better.  But not good enough to talk to her.

And then I felt worse.  This is obviously going to get worse before it gets better.  I can redirect my thoughts away to neutral topics, but I don't know how I can get myself to a positive place when my thoughts return to it.  And now I really wish I had never seen that heartbeat and that baby was just some wondfos and some blooddraws and a better luck next time.  Every time I see that video on my phone it knocks the wind out of me.  Clearly, I need to work on my thoughts with this one, and I need to do it now.  I just don't see how her pregnancy can mean anything but "I'm sorry, but there's no heartbeat."


  1. Sorry, lurker here. By way of intro: Lost triplets one at a time at 21 weeks, 22.5 weeks, and last was born at 24 weeks 2 days & lived in the NICU for 2 weeks until we had to take him off of life support. Also several miscarriages, failed IVFs & latest a failed FET last month. 2 kiddos by way of domestic infant adoption. Spent roughly 100k to get to this point.
    All of that to say, I totally am with you. Except my sister in law, 6 months pregnant with her second, just f-Ing ran a marathon. Weighs maybe 100 lbs now. Everyone talks about how not thin I am when we get together. Her & bro-in-law are completely irritating & don't even take care of their 6yo son. He is being taken care of by my MIL who is terminally ill with breast cancer. She can't even get out of bed, but they dropped kid 1 off earlier this summer & haven't looked back - they live in another state. I can't even blog about it because of course I was an idiot & never believed we'd live thru the hell we have, so when I started my blog 10 years ago, I gave all my real life peeps the address. Now I'm stuck either blogging and pissing everyone off and looking (more) pathetic/bitter, or sucking it up and keeping my mouth shut. I take care of my kiddos & they die. They don't take care of theirs & get preggo easily. The universe hates me.

    1. Wordpress says start again. Do it anonymously. Say what you mean! Though maybe it's too late? Maybe the bitterness never goes away? I'm not sure.

      These feelings sound horrible to write out, but they are worse to make a toxic angry stew inside where I could tell no one. Sending it out into the strange silence of the internet is the only thing I know. That and punching and crying at bootcamp.

    2. Good and scary thoughts. I think it's probably better that I don't say what I mean. In the 10 years of infertility we've slogged through, the anger ebbs and flows and the bitterness it can cause either is let go (usually) or festers for a bit, and then I let it go because I can't live a bitter life. I just really identified with this post, because it is something I'm going through, too. And none of my friends, even my close ones, get it. At all. I was slightly upset at our failed FET last month and was chastised pretty liberally for 'doubting' God. That burns. And still does. And then my SIL announced her pregnancy on Facebook with a picture of her belly and her marathon time. 2 slugs in the gut in one go. I should be used to it. But it still burns.
      I don't plan on staying long in the infertility community. We have 1 more FET this October then we are out of embryos and I'm done. If we didn't have our embryos yet, I would have left long ago. I'm resigned in many ways, but the hurt of loss (the loss of fertility, the loss of each child) never goes away, at least not for me. There are no replacement children, biological or adopted, for the ones you lose. There just aren't. There will always be a massive hole in my heart. Most of the time I live with it pretty well. Sometimes it hurts more than I can deal with and I want to lash out at the fertiles I'm surrounded by (no, seriously, all my friends have like 5 kids minimum - I wish I was kidding). I'd rather be angry than desperately ache for my babies. Thanks for letting me vent here.