Grief

I know.  I know.  You're sitting there thinking, how many more words can this girl possibly write about infertility?  I can understand this sentiment, because quite frankly, I get sick of thinking about it myself.  I wish I could empty my brains of all the feelings and thoughts and feelings that are taking over my every waking moment.  Because, you see, there are so many feelings.

I've never been a particularly sensitive person.  This personality trait led to a great many moments of discord growing up with a mother and a sister who are more sensitive than a bundle of raw nerves.  I rarely went out of my way to be mean, but I would consistently make comments or behave in ways that branded me as "thoughtless".  As I grew older and slightly more mature I learned that it took just a little extra effort for me to be thoughtful and compassionate toward other people's feelings.  It's not that I don't ever feel sad or hurt or misunderstood--I have an entire blog category dedicated to my struggles with depression--it's just that I often have trouble communicating these feelings, or even understanding them myself, so to avoid dealing with them I pour them into a neat little bottle and pack them away into a deep, dark corner of my psyche.

So, it's not that I don't have feelings, it's just that I get very uncomfortable acknowledging or expressing my feelings in anything but writing.

But ever since it began to dawn on us that making a baby wasn't going to be quite the hey presto experience we were expecting, all of that has changed.  I am constantly feeling sad, or angry, or hopeful, or bitter, or jealous, or betrayed, or worried, or any number of other complicated emotions that I can't just power through, dash off a blog post about and carry on with my life.  I spring rapidly from one feeling to the next, leaving me with a sense of emotional whiplash.  One minute I'll be feeling optimistic or even excited about our fertility treatment plan, so then why do I suddenly want to punch that woman who is complaining about her child?  Or, I was just feeling incredibly guilty about how my anger has gotten the better of me once more, promising myself that I will find better ways to channel my emotions than through jealousy and bitterness, and now I want to write a scathing Facebook post about pregnant women who think they can just go out in public any old time walking around all PREGNANT.  Or hey, maybe we'll miraculously get pregnant in that one last cycle after Colby gets home, and then we won't have to worry about any of this!  And then I'm right back to this is all so fucking unfair, woe is meeeeeee, I hate the world today.

I never know how I'm going to feel when I wake up in the morning.  I dread falling asleep because I don't know if I can handle another dream where I discover I'm pregnant or am joyfully juggling twins, only to wake up and find myself just as babyless as ever.  There are days where I feel a sense of lightness, because we have this figured out and I am excited for the future.  Then there are days where I wonder how anybody can look at me and not see that I am falling apart.

This weekend, I somehow landed on a website detailing Kubler-Ross's Five Stages of Grief.

Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance

Anyone who has taken an Intro to Psych class has seen these before, but seeing it there in writing, just as I was going through it... it was as though the clouds parted, and I had a sudden moment of clarity.  Even though I'm not mourning a death, I am going through the most classic stages of grief.  In a sense, mourning the loss of a dream.  The dream I have had since I was a little girl of growing up, falling in love, having a baby.  On my own terms.  

Is it certainly possible, even likely, that there will be a child or children at the end of this path we're on?  Yes.  But I can guarandamntee you that when I was pouring my heart out at slumber parties, none of my rosy scenarios involved painful daily hormone injections, cleaning out my savings account since my supposedly stellar insurance plan doesn't cover the one major medical procedure my body needs in order to function semi-properly because it's "elective", and creating the miracle of life in a petri dish.

The article stated that though these are the most common stages of grief, there is not necessarily a linear progression through them.  And while you may spend just a minute in one stage, you could spend days, weeks or months in another.  I suppose it's a good sign that I have, if only in the briefest of moments, flirted with feelings of acceptance.  It doesn't mean that I'm happy, or joyful about our circumstances, but I do acknowledge that it is our circumstance, whether we like it or not.

Unfortunately, I'm still spending most of my time ping ponging between anger and depression.  I feel sick to my stomach when I hear about a pregnancy.  I have countless moments of bitterness toward other mothers who express completely valid frustrations of their own.  I feel furious at an insurance company that is failing us so deplorably.  I want to scream at the unfairness of a world where a drug addict, alcoholic, or a teenager can get pregnant on accident, while a loving, financially secure, educated, mature couple has to undergo invasive medical procedures for just the glimmer of hope that an embryo might implant.  I even cringe at the merest possiblity of yet another character on tv announcing a pregnancy.  I don't go around melting down in public or punching people, but the anger and sadness is almost always there, simmering just below the surface of day to day life.

I have no doubt that this is just a miniscule taste of the emotionally and physically draining mountain that I still have to climb--I can't even think about what a mess I'm going to be when I'm hopped up on hormones and stress.  I have so many worries and fears about the path that we've set before us, and I think that the anger, while also a natural reaction to a shity situation, is a defense mechanism.  I don't know how long it will take before I land permanently on acceptance--honestly, it may be never--but I cannot give up and allow myself to be swallowed up by bitterness and anger.  I know that I have to keep going and cling desperately to whatever shreds of hope I can find.  But I have to feel my feelings.  I have to accept them as valid emotions, and let myself go through this.  Everyone tells me that at the end of the day, I will look back on this and it will all have been worth it.  It will all be worth it.

"After climbing a great hill, one only finds there are more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me and to look back on the distance I have come. But I dare not linger and can rest only for a moment, for my long walk is not ended." ~Nelson Mandela

"Hope is like a bird that senses the dawn and carefully starts to sing while it is still dark." ~Anonymous

Comments

[Melissa]

God, Angela... I am so so sorry. :( I just don't know what to say. I can't even say I understand, b/c i haven't yet been there to the degree that you have. But I am praying for you. And i will continue to! I hope you find peace in this journey very soon. Love & Hugs!

[Kristina]

I don't think you should apologize at all for using this space, YOUR space here, to work through these feelings. I think that the feelings of anger and grief will get worse if you don't work through them, and that will make an already terrible thing worse.

I'm so sorry you're going through this, and I'm here, reading and hoping for you.

[old Warrior]

You write so beautifully that it nearly makes me cry and also keeps alive the hope that you will get back to writing books. This blog sounds like the abstract for one.

On the bright side You should be thankful you are not married to King Henry.

[Elle sees]

Imtotally understand...my whole family is fertile! My sis, who hated kids, got pregnant without trying (she obv loves her sin now). My brother gotnhis gf pregnant. I come from s huge Italian family (my grandfather was youngest of 14) and everyone can have kids, but me...me, the one the whole family thought would have tons of kids bc I love them so much. But no, I Never got married and now I don't have the money for all the fertility stuff. I always thought when inwas ready it would work out, but I'm too old and it's too late. Instead, I've always been the amazing nanny or best aunt. When new parents have baby problems they call me, even though I've never had a baby. I'm grateful, but it sucks.
I've had friends go through the same thing you are and they all got pregnant, one is pregnant again and wasn't doing any treatments as her son was 9mths and babies weren't in her future for a couplemof years!

[laura]

You are completely entitled to these feelings and I would think you ABnormal if you didn't go through them. What an emotional roller coaster infertility can be, and you're right: its not fair. I feel for you, I really truly do (even though I've never met you and this is the first time I'm commenting on your blog). I can't understand what you are going through, only other women who have been in your shoes could even come close to sitting down and sharing these emotions with you. But please know you have a lot of people rooting for you, and (from what I can tell) have a ton of other amazing blessings in your life right now (like your writing!).

Just wanted to throw out there that I spent the last 3 years working in a PGD lab at an infertility clinic. I dealt mostly with chromosomal abnormalities, but was involved with the embryology part such as IVF, IUI, and ICSI. I saw a ton of women walk through the doors in your shoes. I saw a lot of miracles (meaning they got pregnant right before starting their cycles). I've seen a lot of babies born through IVF. Happy, healthy babies who just had to wait a bit longer before joining the two people who were meant to be their parents. Your time will come, I can feel it, don't lose hope or get discouraged. Keep your chin up :)

[Kate]

Oh sweet girl, I'm so sorry. You've expressed all of the emotions you're going through so well. And, once again, despite some of the differences in our fertility challenges, I feel like you've articulated my feelings as well.

It f'ing SUCKS and I wish I could take it away from you, and I'm sure I'm not the only one. You're amazing and strong and you are going to make it through this.

xoxo

[Melissa B]

My heart breaks for you, Angela. I will pray for you to have strength, courage and hope as you go forward in this challenge. I know I am only one of many that will be thrilled to celebrate with you when your dream of becoming a mother is realized.

It sounds like we have some things in common when it comes to expressing ourselves and fleshing out our feelings. I'm glad you've found this blog as an outlet for your thoughts to be shared.

[Sarah]

All I can say is, "I know." Thank you for putting into words everything I've ever thought. I've been through 2 fresh IVFs and 2 FETs, and although I thank god everyday I'm on my second successful pregnancy I still cannot feel truly happy for my fertile pregnant friends. Some will say that's selfish. But it's just what it is. It's a scarring process that know one will ever understand unless you've been through it. But you press on through the high highs and low lows, successes and failures, because the only thing that matters in the end is that it is WORTH it.

[Caro]

I saw this quote on another blog and thought it fitting:

"Anything can happen in a year…I don’t know where you are these days, what’s broken down and what’s beautiful in your life this season. I don’t know if this is a season of sweetness or one of sadness. But I’m learning that neither last forever. There will, I’m sure, be something that invades this current loneliness. That’s how life is. It won’t be sweet forever. But it won’t be bitter forever either. If everywhere you look these days, it’s wintery, desolate, lonely, practice believing in springtime. It always comes, even though on days like today it’s nearly impossible to imagine, ground frozen, trees bare and spiky. New life will spring from this same ground. This season will end, and something entirely new will follow it." -Shauna Niequist

Love you, friend!

[Solange]

:( So VERY unfair. I am praying for you guys.

[Deidre]

While I have zero experience with this particular broken dream - and I am so so sorry that it is a bit broken - I am relieved to hear that you're letting yourself feel these emotions and not trying to bottle them up here on your blog too!

[Elizabeth]

Wanting a baby and not being able to have one, and being powerless about it all, is quite possibly the most sickening, painful thing that can happen to someone. Own your grief--only you can process it. Don't follow anyone else's timeline of moving on. Theirs will always be wrong for you. It's so much to deal with, and I'm so sorry you have to.

[McLain]

Big Hugs Angela :(

[Chels]

So I read this forever ago, and wanted to comment but apparently commenting on blogs hasn't been my forte lately. You so eloquently said everything that I've been feeling for the last year. You are AMAZING and will make a fantastic mother some day. If you ever need someone to vent at, I'm always all ears... or eyes. ;)