ANGRY

It's almost Thanksgiving where I will get to revel in the royal first grandbaby, and my babies are still all dead or frozen.  And I am so angry at my in-laws.

Nobody cared about my due date.  Not when the first grandbaby was born within days of it.  Nobody sent a text.  Nobody picked up a phone.  Nobody gave a shit.  It's just the gossip topic du jour that everyone knows and no one reaches out to me.

My mind just keeps sitting here marinating on this.  It makes my stomach sick.  It makes my jaw clench up.  I am in this much pain and no one gives a shit.

Really, this isn't different than last year.  Nobody gave a shit then either.  Nobody texted or anything.  But last year, I was in a more hopeful place, I think.  I remember last year looking at the Christmas tree in the fertility clinic that I was blown away that I was still here, so many years later.  I thought I could at least be pregnant this year.  I didn't know that I could lose a heartbeat, be diagnosed with some fucked up blood thing, and be completely hopeless.  You would think I would know things could go left quickly given how this started.

It is different than last year.  I need family.  I need support and love and compassion from somewhere.  I thought I had a family.  I thought my in-laws were like a real family, but it's clear I don't belong, and that I won't get any backing here.

I can't decide what to do for Thanksgiving.  Just not go?  Confront everyone?  Make some sarcastic smart ass comments?  I do know they will not be getting anymore information because clearly it does not matter to them.  I just have to decide if this will poison our relationship forever.  I feel so betrayed.

Heartless Gossip

I was talking to a friend who knows a friend of Fancypants.  She updated me on my own family's gossip.   That long telephone game with people who this is none of their business resulted in a mostly accurate rendition of about half my fertility struggles.  From a woman who is in my family --- and is snuggling a fucking newborn right now.

Conclusion is that I get a pass on baby shit.  Gee thanks.

Nobody picked up a phone or even said shit.  Everyone knew.  Nobody said shit.

Talk about the worst kind of gossip.  Passing my pain around along and not having an ounce of compassion to try to be there for me?  To say I'm sorry?  I'm praying for you?  Hell, I'd even take the well-meaning offensive shit people say (just relax?) over just whispering behind my back and saying nothing.

In my family, no one has been there for me.  My mom always has been useless.  My sister didn't even return the text when I told her there was no heartbeat.  I guess after this many she had no fucks left to give.  My own husband didn't remember the due date.

His family is clearly useless too.  Not only doing nothing to be there or give a shit, but actively gossiping around this story.  I really thought I was close to my in-laws.  In some ways, more than my own parents.  But not now.  I'm an outsider.  They will never be there for me.  In so many ways, I'm on my own. 

Forgotten Due Dates

My due date would have been October 21.  I made my in-laws a freaking frame with that date.  October 21.  Sperm donor didn't remember it.  He never remembered any of them.  The only one who did was G, probably because she's the only real world person who reads my blog haha.

I have three missed due dates now: January 20, August 11, and October 21.  I just need a late spring one and I'll have a whole quarterly dividend schedule of pain.  It took me a minute to remember the old ones.  That's a good thing.  But those dates will never leave me.

I was hurt that my in laws in particular didn't reach out to me.  I mean I never expected my mom to, but I really thought my in laws would.  Especially with how rough this has been with Hermione and all.  But nope.  Nothing.  Why would they give a shit about the dead grandbaby's due date when they have the first living grandbaby?

What Infertility Has Taught me.

Hermione had her baby, and then Fancypants had hers.  I got left out of the casserole duties that were rotating.  You know, that unpleasantness, which clearly everyone knows.

It's mindblowing to me that all this time so many people have known I was in pain and said nothing.  Instead of compassion, they just talk behind my back.  I guess on the plus side, I don't have to make enchiladas.  Not that there was a right thing to say, and not that it would have helped, but I wish someone said something, especially my in-laws.

Now, after fighting this burden, I know what to do.  Even when I don't know what to do.

My friend's mom died last month.  I don't live near this friend anymore, but definitely a friend.  I don't know how it feels to lose your mom.  I never even met her mom.  But I knew what the correct response was.  It was what I would have wanted all of these staring family members to do, acknowledge it.  I sent her a text.  It said "I am so sorry."  I mailed her a physical card.  It was two sentences and said I was thinking of her and I was sorry.  I sent her a couple more texts, just that I was thinking of her and I was sorry.

A month later, I sent her a similar text.  You know, right when everyone else had moved on.  And she texted me back that my texts had meant so much to her.  You know, those texts she didn't even respond to.  Those texts didn't say anything profound or helpful.   They weren't Maya Angelou quotes or advice from someone who has been there.  My words could not bring her mom back, or help her work through her shit, or even say I get it, those words just said I was there and I heard her.

"I'm thinking of you."  is such a powerful text.  It is POWERFUL to say I have heard your pain and I am connected to you.  We are all connected, and sometimes that connection is what someone needs in a very dark time.  Because to all my infertility sisters, I am thinking of you and I am so sorry.

Pity Party

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.

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.

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.