And so I found myself in a hospital room in an L&D ward with a one day old baby. I had no idea this was a thing. If anyone needed to pony up for the deluxe room down that hall, it was Hermione.
How many people could be crammed in this room? Aunties, kids, abuela (bisabuela!) came into town. They had folding chairs set up. Someone brought in food. Someone had some music playing on a bluetooth speaker. Someone was watching Netflix. Why are all these people here? What are they doing? Why don't they go home and let her get some sleep? They've been here all day!
It was like I was invisible. Why am I even here? This isn't my family,
and it's very obvious I don't belong. Nobody even acknowledged me when
I walked in. Instead they were ALL OVER Sperm Donor for now being an
OMG uncle, even though he's been an uncle since we got married. WTF.
And as they gushed over him being an uncle, they didn't even make eye
contact with me.
All discussion was in Spanish, but I gathered that Hermione was not allowed to get up and would be in the hospital for a couple more days. She looked like hell. I saw zero medical personnel. Aside from the whiteboard with a bunch of times on it and the hospital bed, this could have been any cheap hotel. The baby was just being passed around.
And then I found myself ridiculously drunk with a girlfriend, hey I took an Uber. And all I could get out between gasping crying was that it's not fair. It's not fair.
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Friday, October 16, 2015
Labor
Hermione is being induced. It's some kind of emergency. That's weeks early. Maybe four?
Everyone is gathering at the hospital. I guess this is a Mexican thing? It seems bizarre and invasive to me. All the aunties and cousins and everyone are leaving work to go camp out in the waiting room. WTF? I told Sperm Donor we weren't invited, and he just seemed confused as to why would need to be invited, as if it is assumed that of course we will go camp out at the hospital.
Sperm Donor forgot our due date, but I haven't forgotten you, October 21st. I haven't forgotten.
Maybe Sperm Donor should have married the superfertile Mexican girl he was supposed to. Then he'd have a couple kids by now, three I guess. Maybe she would have said the right prayers or lit the right candles. Maybe she would just know that you are supposed to go camp out at the hospital. Maybe she would have actually made it to L&D in one of these FOUR YEARS and the party would be for her.
I went to a super difficult spinning class to try to get my mind off it, and it didn't work at all. I just ended up crying on the bike, which is a decent place to cry actually because no one is looking at you and you're dripping sweat anyway.
As I was driving away, I was thinking that if I drove off the bridge, it wouldn't even matter. I'm 33. My kids are all dead, and the OMG FIRST GRANDBABY will be here. Who gives a shit about me? There's nothing special about me. There's nothing important about me. Maybe after four years, I should know that.
I'm not camping out at the hospital. There's no way I can deal with this birth party with el primer nieto, and abuela, and everyone else. I'm turning off my phone, and I'm leaving. Maybe I'm going to the beach. I don't know. I have to get out of here.
Everyone is gathering at the hospital. I guess this is a Mexican thing? It seems bizarre and invasive to me. All the aunties and cousins and everyone are leaving work to go camp out in the waiting room. WTF? I told Sperm Donor we weren't invited, and he just seemed confused as to why would need to be invited, as if it is assumed that of course we will go camp out at the hospital.
Sperm Donor forgot our due date, but I haven't forgotten you, October 21st. I haven't forgotten.
Maybe Sperm Donor should have married the superfertile Mexican girl he was supposed to. Then he'd have a couple kids by now, three I guess. Maybe she would have said the right prayers or lit the right candles. Maybe she would just know that you are supposed to go camp out at the hospital. Maybe she would have actually made it to L&D in one of these FOUR YEARS and the party would be for her.
I went to a super difficult spinning class to try to get my mind off it, and it didn't work at all. I just ended up crying on the bike, which is a decent place to cry actually because no one is looking at you and you're dripping sweat anyway.
As I was driving away, I was thinking that if I drove off the bridge, it wouldn't even matter. I'm 33. My kids are all dead, and the OMG FIRST GRANDBABY will be here. Who gives a shit about me? There's nothing special about me. There's nothing important about me. Maybe after four years, I should know that.
I'm not camping out at the hospital. There's no way I can deal with this birth party with el primer nieto, and abuela, and everyone else. I'm turning off my phone, and I'm leaving. Maybe I'm going to the beach. I don't know. I have to get out of here.
Thursday, October 1, 2015
Life Kicking Me Around
It's been a tough couple weeks for me. I feel like life just keeps kicking me and kicking me and kicking me.
Still haven't heard from the insurance appeal.
My period screwed up, and the Wondfos I bought to start IVF are all gone. This will be my FIFTH PACK of wondfos. That's 250 pregnancy tests. Maybe 10 actually said what I wanted them to at the right time.
One of Sperm Donor's bros accidentally got a girl pregnant on a one night stand when he was out of town, and he won't even go see the baby. He knew about some of our struggles, and yet this douche canoe told us this anyway-- as if he had a frat brother a state over he hadn't seen in a while. It visually upset my sperm donor. Sperm Donor walked out, very dramatic and out of character. I think Sperm Donor might have finally gotten a taste of how I feel constantly. This might be the first friend he loses over this.
I got completely left out of a girls' event that meant a lot to me, and I am so sad about it. My bridesmaid uninvited me and didn't even tell me to my face or warn me. I feel so left out and HURT. But I get it. I'm a bummer and a failure and I've spent a whole year running from reality. I get it. Single girls and glowing pregnant ladies are way more fun.
This is why I wish I had been more careful with who I told. Here we are years later, and it's the awkward topic no one wants to mention. I wish back on IUI #6 when I thought I needed some support that I had just kept my mouth shut. If I had known that it would follow me around for years and fuck with my friendships, I would have kept it to myself.
I went to three weddings in a row, and everyone was pregnant. I guess that's normal in your early-mid thirties, it's just me who can't figure this out. They'll probably all pop back from their honeymoons pregnant too.
Another friend emailed me she was pregnant, and I didn't even respond with my canned response. I just cried. Ugly cried.
I finally called the MFM specialist and I can't get in until February, if they even agree to take me. I can't even start an FET cycle until that.
You win, life, I give up. None of this is going to work. I can keep fighting, scheduling, write checks, but I can't fight fate. This is bigger than me, and my pain and effort mean nothing and have no power. It's not up to me, it's not up the the doctors. At some point I have to face the truth.
Hermione is due in a couple weeks, and I'm still here.
Still haven't heard from the insurance appeal.
My period screwed up, and the Wondfos I bought to start IVF are all gone. This will be my FIFTH PACK of wondfos. That's 250 pregnancy tests. Maybe 10 actually said what I wanted them to at the right time.
One of Sperm Donor's bros accidentally got a girl pregnant on a one night stand when he was out of town, and he won't even go see the baby. He knew about some of our struggles, and yet this douche canoe told us this anyway-- as if he had a frat brother a state over he hadn't seen in a while. It visually upset my sperm donor. Sperm Donor walked out, very dramatic and out of character. I think Sperm Donor might have finally gotten a taste of how I feel constantly. This might be the first friend he loses over this.
I got completely left out of a girls' event that meant a lot to me, and I am so sad about it. My bridesmaid uninvited me and didn't even tell me to my face or warn me. I feel so left out and HURT. But I get it. I'm a bummer and a failure and I've spent a whole year running from reality. I get it. Single girls and glowing pregnant ladies are way more fun.
This is why I wish I had been more careful with who I told. Here we are years later, and it's the awkward topic no one wants to mention. I wish back on IUI #6 when I thought I needed some support that I had just kept my mouth shut. If I had known that it would follow me around for years and fuck with my friendships, I would have kept it to myself.
I went to three weddings in a row, and everyone was pregnant. I guess that's normal in your early-mid thirties, it's just me who can't figure this out. They'll probably all pop back from their honeymoons pregnant too.
Another friend emailed me she was pregnant, and I didn't even respond with my canned response. I just cried. Ugly cried.
I finally called the MFM specialist and I can't get in until February, if they even agree to take me. I can't even start an FET cycle until that.
You win, life, I give up. None of this is going to work. I can keep fighting, scheduling, write checks, but I can't fight fate. This is bigger than me, and my pain and effort mean nothing and have no power. It's not up to me, it's not up the the doctors. At some point I have to face the truth.
Hermione is due in a couple weeks, and I'm still here.
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Showered With Miracles
On the way to Hermione's shower, which should have been mine, my mom was having none of it. This isn't about you. This is your niece. These are all people who love her, nothing is going to be about you, and this is going to be fun.
We drove past my babies in the freezer. And then it was a very long drive. And then I was at a giant Mexican baby shower with a TON of people and so much going on. Why had I been worried? This wasn't about me at all. HA. I hate it when mom is right. Besides, if I talked to everyone, it would be 90 seconds of conversation.
I had crafted a onesie with an inside joke, it was pretty funny. Everyone loved it in the gift opening, more than the ridiculous $200 present. And to think I literally got tears on it when I was making it last night. Ridiculous. This is happy, this isn't about me. It was wonderful. It was fun to be around so much family and with so much love.
My mom had to leave, and I got a ride from Fancypants to her evening shower, hosted by one of my dear friends at night. I knew this one would be rowdier. I wasn't even invited to this one, they were being kind to me. (Her family shower was a week before). Fancypants seemed glad I was going, and you know what, it was fun.
They had some dumb game where everyone, including men, put a balloon under their shirt, held a quarter between their knees, raced someone across the room, and tried to get the quarter in a bowl on the floor. It was hilarious and stupid. One of the balloons popped, and there were some distasteful miscarriage jokes. That was the only moment the whole night I felt that sting of loss. Otherwise, the whole night, I had a fantastic time.
It would be unthinkable to me a few days ago that I would have spent all day at two baby showers and had a delightful time. It was great. My time will come, or maybe it won't. But the world is full of love, and if you are open, you can see it and feel it and receive it where you think it's impossible.
We drove past my babies in the freezer. And then it was a very long drive. And then I was at a giant Mexican baby shower with a TON of people and so much going on. Why had I been worried? This wasn't about me at all. HA. I hate it when mom is right. Besides, if I talked to everyone, it would be 90 seconds of conversation.
I had crafted a onesie with an inside joke, it was pretty funny. Everyone loved it in the gift opening, more than the ridiculous $200 present. And to think I literally got tears on it when I was making it last night. Ridiculous. This is happy, this isn't about me. It was wonderful. It was fun to be around so much family and with so much love.
My mom had to leave, and I got a ride from Fancypants to her evening shower, hosted by one of my dear friends at night. I knew this one would be rowdier. I wasn't even invited to this one, they were being kind to me. (Her family shower was a week before). Fancypants seemed glad I was going, and you know what, it was fun.
They had some dumb game where everyone, including men, put a balloon under their shirt, held a quarter between their knees, raced someone across the room, and tried to get the quarter in a bowl on the floor. It was hilarious and stupid. One of the balloons popped, and there were some distasteful miscarriage jokes. That was the only moment the whole night I felt that sting of loss. Otherwise, the whole night, I had a fantastic time.
It would be unthinkable to me a few days ago that I would have spent all day at two baby showers and had a delightful time. It was great. My time will come, or maybe it won't. But the world is full of love, and if you are open, you can see it and feel it and receive it where you think it's impossible.
Thursday, September 17, 2015
No Zen for the Shower
My anxiety is increasing about this baby shower this weekend, the one that was supposed to be mine. In the mail, I got a note to get a mammogram. That means it has been a year since I escalated this journey to IVF. A year, two pregnancies, three dead embryos. Oh and the years dicking around almost dying before that. My baby would be almost three years old.
I hate this. I hate this for both of us. I wish I could be what I should be, but I can't.
I'm tempted to send the damn gift and say I can't attend, because it's true. I feel like I can't. Over this journey, I've learned to remove myself from situations that will be too much to handle. One year old's birthday parties. Conversations about breast pumps. Facebook. Life. I haven't been to a baby shower in two years, except work ones I couldn't skip, with acquantainces.
This will be the first time I am staring down my husband's gossipy, awful family in this context. I want to hide. My friend texted me that I am strong and brave and that I can do this. But maybe I can't? I can't even run in the back room and hide if it gets rough, because this is an awful relative hosting this at a place I've never been. It's easier to handle kids than pregnant women for me. Well, kids, then babies, then pregnant women.
I've been to a lot of yoga this week to try to center and zen or something. But I keep going back to this mental image that she is hugely pregnant. And I'm still here.
I hate this. I hate this for both of us. I wish I could be what I should be, but I can't.
I'm tempted to send the damn gift and say I can't attend, because it's true. I feel like I can't. Over this journey, I've learned to remove myself from situations that will be too much to handle. One year old's birthday parties. Conversations about breast pumps. Facebook. Life. I haven't been to a baby shower in two years, except work ones I couldn't skip, with acquantainces.
This will be the first time I am staring down my husband's gossipy, awful family in this context. I want to hide. My friend texted me that I am strong and brave and that I can do this. But maybe I can't? I can't even run in the back room and hide if it gets rough, because this is an awful relative hosting this at a place I've never been. It's easier to handle kids than pregnant women for me. Well, kids, then babies, then pregnant women.
I've been to a lot of yoga this week to try to center and zen or something. But I keep going back to this mental image that she is hugely pregnant. And I'm still here.
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Cheese Still Alone
I got an email about the wedding (yes the same wedding) from another friend. It was a heads up that she's pregnant also. I already knew that, I guess, remember I am infertile, not stupid. This means she got pregnant a month or two after her wedding. I mean, we're in our early-mid-ish thirties, what did I expect?
And that colleague I saw at the IVF clinic way back in December 2014 when I bravely tucked my tail and hid in the bathroom. His Facebook is covered with his new baby. That means while I was in beta hell with my chemical pregnancy, they were getting joyous Christmas news about what would be their son in the next ultrasound room. FML. This works for everyone but me.
I haven't heard anyone even tell me about a miscarriage. No one has sent over their friend going through IVF. Nope. Everyone gets pregnant on the second try and it's all sunshine and rainbows. For everyone but me. For fuck sake, the stats say miscarriages and even advanced REs and stuff are fairly common, but I don't feel that now. I don't know anyone in real life going through anything close to what I am.
Everyone is going to be fucking pregnant at this wedding. This wedding I have flown to two different cities for and clearly don't belong at because of my failure to execute the basic mission everyone seems to be going for. Even the guys at this wedding, four, maybe more will have pregnant wives. Does anyone talk about anything but their goddamn babies? And I will again be the cheese standing alone. Good thing this wedding is in a recreational marijuana state.
I don't have a good way to explain this feeling. I would not wish it on anyone. Physically, the closest analogue I have is grief, which just overwhelms your whole body with physically sobbing and chest pain and shows you no way out. It physically takes you to the ground. That has gotten worse as the world has closed in on me. But this is now more overriding. It has infiltrated every aspect of my life. I live as a failure, and as a sad, pathetic cautionary tail. The truth is, I might never get what I want. And I do not know how it is possible for me to continue the rest of my life feeling like this.
And that colleague I saw at the IVF clinic way back in December 2014 when I bravely tucked my tail and hid in the bathroom. His Facebook is covered with his new baby. That means while I was in beta hell with my chemical pregnancy, they were getting joyous Christmas news about what would be their son in the next ultrasound room. FML. This works for everyone but me.
I haven't heard anyone even tell me about a miscarriage. No one has sent over their friend going through IVF. Nope. Everyone gets pregnant on the second try and it's all sunshine and rainbows. For everyone but me. For fuck sake, the stats say miscarriages and even advanced REs and stuff are fairly common, but I don't feel that now. I don't know anyone in real life going through anything close to what I am.
Everyone is going to be fucking pregnant at this wedding. This wedding I have flown to two different cities for and clearly don't belong at because of my failure to execute the basic mission everyone seems to be going for. Even the guys at this wedding, four, maybe more will have pregnant wives. Does anyone talk about anything but their goddamn babies? And I will again be the cheese standing alone. Good thing this wedding is in a recreational marijuana state.
I don't have a good way to explain this feeling. I would not wish it on anyone. Physically, the closest analogue I have is grief, which just overwhelms your whole body with physically sobbing and chest pain and shows you no way out. It physically takes you to the ground. That has gotten worse as the world has closed in on me. But this is now more overriding. It has infiltrated every aspect of my life. I live as a failure, and as a sad, pathetic cautionary tail. The truth is, I might never get what I want. And I do not know how it is possible for me to continue the rest of my life feeling like this.
Monday, September 7, 2015
Skipping the Shower?
Hermione's shower is in two weeks. I bought her some ridiculous $200 present. I have plans to make some crafty stupid bow with the baby's name. I ordered a silly knit hat for a newborn photo op. I ordered some newborn booties with her sports team on them.Looking at that present feels like looking at someone laughing at me. I moved it in the closet, and I can still hear it laughing at me. I can see the silly games with melted candy bar in a diaper, I know the questions.
I am filled with ANXIETY when I think about this. Anxiety with all caps. Because I don't share my grief with people I barely know, and even if I did, someone else's baby shower is not right. I know the questions are coming from a good place. And, hell, maybe I won't get them. I know at least some of this struggle has been in the gossip mill for a long time.
I feel this urge to RUN AWAY and not go to this shower. It just so unfair. I don't want to face it, I don't want to talk about it. I am already freaking out at the concept of people cooing and gushing over her pregnancy, at what should have been our joint shower. HA. I should have known better than to tempt the universe with that one. Of course that will never happen for me.
Everyone is going to think I'm a total bitch for leaving early, but I don't care. To survive, this one is going to have to be quick.
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