I just had a miscarriage last week after ttc again for 16 months, a surgery and 8 months of fertility treatments. It brings all my grief over losing Abby to the surface. And the stupid comments are flying already, most of them from family members. I just had to vent some of them out. I'm trying hard this time not to let people's words hurt me, but I can't help it. I guess that's what happens when you wear your feelings on your sleeve ...
"I am so sick of death ... your babies are dying and our business is dying" (what!?!?)
"Well at least you know you can get pregnant ..." (yeah, well I could have stayed pregnant, too!)
"Pain is pain ..." (a family member referring to the other one whose business is dying)
"Maybe Abby needed a brother or sister in Heaven?" (what!?!?)
"Well, when my Aunt lost her daughter ..." (you can tell where this one went)
"I'm tired, too. I had to get up at 5:30 this morning to exercise" (after I said I had been up since 4:30am the day of my miscarriage)
Those are just a few of the things that have been said to me in less than a week. I just wish people would learn that the ONLY thing to say is, "I'm so sorry. I hurt with you and I'm here for you." You would think after going through 19 months of grieving with us after losing Abby they would get it. I guess not.
On the other hand, many people HAVE said the right thing and I need to acknowledge that as well.
"I can't believe this is happening -- it is beyond words"
"I am so sad and sorry. I don't understand"
"I don't understand either, but who am I to know God's will?" (after someone else said, "It just wasn't God's will")
"I am hurting with you and loving you"
"There are no words to tell you how much I love you and how sorry I am"
"This is a thousand times worse than a thousand CD 1's"
"I am so angry for you ..."
And guess who said these? My ladies Bible study and friends from MISS and BabyCenter who have lost a child and are ttc again. I guess they have all learned something. I am so grateful that there are some people who know what to say. And I know that even those who said the wrong thing really do love me. They just don't know what to say. But that doesn't make it hurt less. I really wish they would just learn something from all of this.
Anyway, thank you for letting me vent! I really just needed to get that out.
June 29, 2008
June 25, 2008
We've Lost Another One
My hcg numbers came back low on Friday and I began to miscarry on Monday night. Monday afternoon I had a "feeling" something was wrong. Late Monday night I began spotting and at about 4am Tuesday, I began having a full flow. I've been bleeding and cramping ever since.
My heart hurts most for my 4yo son, Benjamin. He just asked me during lunch on Tuesday (I was already miscarrying) "Mommy, can we put the baby swing back up for the baby when it comes?" Last night we talked with him about it and asked how he felt. He said he was mad, "you know like hitting" and later asked, "Am I a big brother?" It really broke my heart. I think I am almost more sad for him than I am for me. It took some time for him to process the news about Abby, but of course he was much younger then. This time he seems to understand, but I think it will still take some time for him to process.
Anyway, thanks for all of your congratulations and warm wishes when I announced my BFP last week. We are very sad and disappointed that this one won't be coming home after so many months of treatments. It obviously wasn't part of God's plan, but we are still trusting God.
My heart hurts most for my 4yo son, Benjamin. He just asked me during lunch on Tuesday (I was already miscarrying) "Mommy, can we put the baby swing back up for the baby when it comes?" Last night we talked with him about it and asked how he felt. He said he was mad, "you know like hitting" and later asked, "Am I a big brother?" It really broke my heart. I think I am almost more sad for him than I am for me. It took some time for him to process the news about Abby, but of course he was much younger then. This time he seems to understand, but I think it will still take some time for him to process.
Anyway, thanks for all of your congratulations and warm wishes when I announced my BFP last week. We are very sad and disappointed that this one won't be coming home after so many months of treatments. It obviously wasn't part of God's plan, but we are still trusting God.
June 24, 2008
Another Loss
I found out that I was pregnant again on June 18th after 16 months of trying to conceive including 2 surgeries and 8 cycles of fertility treatments (artificial insemination) only to miscarry today. I was so angry, especially at people. It seems at times like these everyone says the wrong thing. I can't understand why people can't just stop at "I'm so sorry ..." There is always a "but ..." at the end. Everyone seems to think it's their job to explain why this happened. Are they really arrogant enough to think they know? Can a human being know the mind of God? Aren't we just guessing when we try to figure out why things happen? And it's worse when other people look at your life from the outside in and decide that THEY know why it happened when you are just sitting there stunned.
I realized something this time that I didn't realize before. When I am feeling this angry, the only thing I can do is isolate myself from the outside world. It's for my protection as well as theirs. I know my skin is thin right now and any wrong move could end a friendship. It's a dangerous time for me to share my heart. The only place and person I can share it with is the Lord. Only He can really understand and love me the way I need to be loved. I can't trust people or myself right now. My radar is skewed. I am only going to hear things through a broken filter. I realize that this time. My grief destroyed three friendships. I will not allow it to destroy more. I know that the friendships were destroyed by more than just my grief, but I understand that my reaction was not in proportion to their words. I was wounded beyond repair and being hurt by those I love was insult to injury. I am trying, oh how I am trying not to hold the words of those I love against them. It is so hard ...
Benjamin named the baby. He was so angry when I told him that this baby died, too. I asked how he felt and he just said he was angry ... "you know, like hitting!" Then he curled his little fist up and shook it in the air. Bless his precious heart. I just want him to be a big brother on earth. He told his Nana that the baby in mommy's tummy died, "but I am still a big brother!" Talk about confusing. I am most broken-hearted for him. He deserves a sibling to grow up with. God knows someday he'll need someone to share the burden of his mom and dad, lol. But more than that, I want him to experience the joys and frustrations of having a sibling. Mine are my best friends. I don't know what I would do without them. I want that for him. But I also understand that if he never has that, then it was not the Lord's plan for him. God knows what Benjamin needs better than I do.
As for friends, well, I don't really have any. I realize that now. No one can be the kind of friend I really need. All disappoint. All wound. All are forgiven. There is nothing I can do to make them change or be what I want or need them to be. I am starting -- yet just starting -- to accept that. It has been hard, but I am trying to see that they love me, as flawed as they are at showing it. Most of my anger is toward my mother-in-law right now. She said something that really wounded me the day I began to miscarry. It's going to take some time to forgive. But again, I am trying.
That's all for now.
I realized something this time that I didn't realize before. When I am feeling this angry, the only thing I can do is isolate myself from the outside world. It's for my protection as well as theirs. I know my skin is thin right now and any wrong move could end a friendship. It's a dangerous time for me to share my heart. The only place and person I can share it with is the Lord. Only He can really understand and love me the way I need to be loved. I can't trust people or myself right now. My radar is skewed. I am only going to hear things through a broken filter. I realize that this time. My grief destroyed three friendships. I will not allow it to destroy more. I know that the friendships were destroyed by more than just my grief, but I understand that my reaction was not in proportion to their words. I was wounded beyond repair and being hurt by those I love was insult to injury. I am trying, oh how I am trying not to hold the words of those I love against them. It is so hard ...
Benjamin named the baby. He was so angry when I told him that this baby died, too. I asked how he felt and he just said he was angry ... "you know, like hitting!" Then he curled his little fist up and shook it in the air. Bless his precious heart. I just want him to be a big brother on earth. He told his Nana that the baby in mommy's tummy died, "but I am still a big brother!" Talk about confusing. I am most broken-hearted for him. He deserves a sibling to grow up with. God knows someday he'll need someone to share the burden of his mom and dad, lol. But more than that, I want him to experience the joys and frustrations of having a sibling. Mine are my best friends. I don't know what I would do without them. I want that for him. But I also understand that if he never has that, then it was not the Lord's plan for him. God knows what Benjamin needs better than I do.
As for friends, well, I don't really have any. I realize that now. No one can be the kind of friend I really need. All disappoint. All wound. All are forgiven. There is nothing I can do to make them change or be what I want or need them to be. I am starting -- yet just starting -- to accept that. It has been hard, but I am trying to see that they love me, as flawed as they are at showing it. Most of my anger is toward my mother-in-law right now. She said something that really wounded me the day I began to miscarry. It's going to take some time to forgive. But again, I am trying.
That's all for now.
May 11, 2008
Something I shared at church today
A few weeks ago I wrote out some thoughts about Mother's Day. I sent them to my pastor to read since I shared briefly last Mother's Day. He said he wanted me to share again this year. So this is what I shared this morning ...
On November 29, 2006, I became a mother for the second time to a beautiful baby girl we named Abigail Graceland. She weighed 6 lbs., 14 oz. and looked just like her big brother, Benjamin. Only, Abby died just hours before she was born, during the early stages of labor. So, Mother's Day is a bittersweet day for me. Bitter because I should have a 17 month old little girl by my side today that is not here. Sweet because I have a 4 year old little boy by my side today who is.
Mother's Day is a celebration of motherhood, but for some it is a painful reminder of what they don't have. Whether due to miscarriage, stillbirth, death of a child at any age, or even abortion, many women hurt deeply on Mother's Day over the loss of a child. Some mothers hurt today because their children have chosen a life of drugs or abuse or have simply rejected them. Let's not forget the motherless children, young and old, who hurt because they are missing their mothers today. Some because their mothers have died and others because their mothers are merely absent from their lives. There is one last category of those who hurt on Mother's Day that is often overlooked. Those who long to be mothers but are struggling with infertility or even those who are single and long to be married so they can start a family, but are forced to wait. Needless to say, for many, Mother's Day is a painful time. A lot of these women choose to avoid going to church on Mother's Day for this reason. And the brave who do come often feel isolated and invisible in their pain. It is important that we remember those who are missing their children or mothers today, for whatever reason, and those who long to be mothers but feel like that day will never come. We remember and honor you today.
When my daughter died, the Lord gave me many verses to comfort me. One of them was Psalm 56:8, "You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book." To know that my tears were important to God meant so much. I also remembered that Jesus was a man of sorrows and acquainted with the bitterest grief. He knew my pain and longed to comfort me. But Isaiah 53:3-5 says, "We turned our backs on Him and looked the other way when He went by. He was despised, and we did not care. Yet it was our weaknesses He carried; it was our sorrow that weighed Him down. And we thought His troubles were a punishment from God for his own sins! But He was wounded and crushed for our sins. He was beaten that we might have peace. He was whipped and we were healed."
God lost His own Son. At times that didn't comfort me. I thought, "He is God! He can handle it. I'm human. It's different. He got his Son back in 3 days. I have to wait a lifetime!" It's just not a fair comparison. But a close friend, who also lost a child at birth, made a very good point that proved that God does know the deep pain of losing a child -- every person who rejects Him is lost to Him forever -- a precious child who will be separated from Him for eternity. I will see my daughter again and there will be no more tears and no more pain on that day. Those who reject Him He loses forever.
No matter what your situation, God sees your tears. He knows your heart. He hears your pain. And He longs to comfort you. Lamentations 3:31-33 says, "For the Lord does not abandon anyone forever. Though He brings grief, He also shows compassion according to the greatness of His unfailing love. For he does not enjoy hurting people or causing them sorrow." He loves you and wants to care for you. I pray today that you will give your pain and sorrow over to Him and allow Him to be your strength.
On November 29, 2006, I became a mother for the second time to a beautiful baby girl we named Abigail Graceland. She weighed 6 lbs., 14 oz. and looked just like her big brother, Benjamin. Only, Abby died just hours before she was born, during the early stages of labor. So, Mother's Day is a bittersweet day for me. Bitter because I should have a 17 month old little girl by my side today that is not here. Sweet because I have a 4 year old little boy by my side today who is.
Mother's Day is a celebration of motherhood, but for some it is a painful reminder of what they don't have. Whether due to miscarriage, stillbirth, death of a child at any age, or even abortion, many women hurt deeply on Mother's Day over the loss of a child. Some mothers hurt today because their children have chosen a life of drugs or abuse or have simply rejected them. Let's not forget the motherless children, young and old, who hurt because they are missing their mothers today. Some because their mothers have died and others because their mothers are merely absent from their lives. There is one last category of those who hurt on Mother's Day that is often overlooked. Those who long to be mothers but are struggling with infertility or even those who are single and long to be married so they can start a family, but are forced to wait. Needless to say, for many, Mother's Day is a painful time. A lot of these women choose to avoid going to church on Mother's Day for this reason. And the brave who do come often feel isolated and invisible in their pain. It is important that we remember those who are missing their children or mothers today, for whatever reason, and those who long to be mothers but feel like that day will never come. We remember and honor you today.
When my daughter died, the Lord gave me many verses to comfort me. One of them was Psalm 56:8, "You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book." To know that my tears were important to God meant so much. I also remembered that Jesus was a man of sorrows and acquainted with the bitterest grief. He knew my pain and longed to comfort me. But Isaiah 53:3-5 says, "We turned our backs on Him and looked the other way when He went by. He was despised, and we did not care. Yet it was our weaknesses He carried; it was our sorrow that weighed Him down. And we thought His troubles were a punishment from God for his own sins! But He was wounded and crushed for our sins. He was beaten that we might have peace. He was whipped and we were healed."
God lost His own Son. At times that didn't comfort me. I thought, "He is God! He can handle it. I'm human. It's different. He got his Son back in 3 days. I have to wait a lifetime!" It's just not a fair comparison. But a close friend, who also lost a child at birth, made a very good point that proved that God does know the deep pain of losing a child -- every person who rejects Him is lost to Him forever -- a precious child who will be separated from Him for eternity. I will see my daughter again and there will be no more tears and no more pain on that day. Those who reject Him He loses forever.
No matter what your situation, God sees your tears. He knows your heart. He hears your pain. And He longs to comfort you. Lamentations 3:31-33 says, "For the Lord does not abandon anyone forever. Though He brings grief, He also shows compassion according to the greatness of His unfailing love. For he does not enjoy hurting people or causing them sorrow." He loves you and wants to care for you. I pray today that you will give your pain and sorrow over to Him and allow Him to be your strength.
April 25, 2008
Feeling Left Behind
I don't know why, but this cycle has been so much harder than the rest. I guess it's b/c we are only going to do 2 more IUI's then stop. It feels so final. And I hate that we are going through this at all. I can't imagine why God won't bless us again. I can't imagine not having another living child. I can't really put into words what I'm feeling, but I feel so ... left behind. So many people who started this journey with me have gone on to have their "rainbow" babies and here I am still trying and trying and trying to get pg again. It brings me joy to know they have a little one to fill their arms, but I feel so empty sometimes knowing that I might not have another one. And my little boy is getting so big. I am just feeling sad. Sad at what we lost and sad at what we might not have again. And sad that all of the wonderful friends I've made along this journey no longer have ttc in common with me. They are in baby world now, with the pain and struggle of ttc long behind them. I admit -- I'm jealous. But not in a mean-spirited way. I am truly happy for them! I just wish I had the comradery of bringing my sub-baby into the world and having that joy restored and being able to enjoy my baby with the friends along the way who have had theirs. Longing, wishing, waiting, hoping and praying this part of the journey will end soon ...
April 22, 2008
Stupid Comments, Stupid People (just venting)
Today is CD 1 after 6 failed IUI attempts and 15 months of trying to conceive after my daughter died in November, 2006. It took 6 years to conceive our son after being told we'd never have children. Now we're back in the infertility game and down to two more tries until we can no longer afford to do it.
Anyway, I sent a prayer request to my women's Bible study and posted on my TTC board on BabyCenter that AF arrived this morning and I am so annoyed by stupid comments. Why can't people just say, "I'm sorry!" and shut up? First of all, I asked for prayer and all I got was advice. If I wanted advice, I would have made an "advice request" kwim? One lady wrote back and went on and on about a friend who, back in the 1980's, took one type of injection for a few months then another and then finally got pg and never had a problem again. That's nice, but when I finally got pg on my own, my baby died and now I can't get pg again. Her little story wasn't helpful. All she needed to say was, "I'll praying for you!" That's why they call it a "prayer request!" Duh!
Another woman, on my BabyCenter board, who, by the way, has never lost a child, replied "I'm really sorry you are disappointed but God has a plan. He always does, if only we could have patience." Duh again! Tell me something I don't already know. I am a believer and I know God has a plan, but a simple, "I'm sorry!" would have sufficed. What a dumb thing to say. And, frankly, I think I've had a LOT of patience!! I haven't been real happy with God's "plan" but I haven't lost my faith either. I am trying to be patient and trust Him, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to have a bad day. Sheesh!
I'm sorry, but I'm just so annoyed with people right now. I remember how hard it was the first time we went through this. People just don't get it and say stupid things. If they can't say something sympathetic or helpful, they need to learn to just button their lips.
Sorry for the negative rant. Just needed to get it out ...
Anyway, I sent a prayer request to my women's Bible study and posted on my TTC board on BabyCenter that AF arrived this morning and I am so annoyed by stupid comments. Why can't people just say, "I'm sorry!" and shut up? First of all, I asked for prayer and all I got was advice. If I wanted advice, I would have made an "advice request" kwim? One lady wrote back and went on and on about a friend who, back in the 1980's, took one type of injection for a few months then another and then finally got pg and never had a problem again. That's nice, but when I finally got pg on my own, my baby died and now I can't get pg again. Her little story wasn't helpful. All she needed to say was, "I'll praying for you!" That's why they call it a "prayer request!" Duh!
Another woman, on my BabyCenter board, who, by the way, has never lost a child, replied "I'm really sorry you are disappointed but God has a plan. He always does, if only we could have patience." Duh again! Tell me something I don't already know. I am a believer and I know God has a plan, but a simple, "I'm sorry!" would have sufficed. What a dumb thing to say. And, frankly, I think I've had a LOT of patience!! I haven't been real happy with God's "plan" but I haven't lost my faith either. I am trying to be patient and trust Him, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to have a bad day. Sheesh!
I'm sorry, but I'm just so annoyed with people right now. I remember how hard it was the first time we went through this. People just don't get it and say stupid things. If they can't say something sympathetic or helpful, they need to learn to just button their lips.
Sorry for the negative rant. Just needed to get it out ...
March 24, 2008
Friendship After Loss
This is going to be a really raw post, so forgive me in advance while I work out these feelings ...
There are many things that are difficult to accept about losing Abby. I think one of the hardest is the loss of friendships. I have lost three of my "closest" friends in one way or another. One simply stopped calling me. She was my best friend from the time I was 4 years old and the only friendship to survive childhood all the way to adulthood. We were in each other's weddings, at each other's children's births (except Abby), walked through the death of her father, mother and a close family "mother" like friend. I even went with her to her divorce hearing. Our last conversation was over the phone the week of Abby's funeral. She was going to bring us dinner that night, but called to say she was sick and didn't want to spread her germs "under the circumstances" and I never heard from her again. That was almost 16 months ago. Since then, she has gotten married and is going to celebrate her 40th birthday this year, probably without me. She has gone on with life without looking back. And for no apparent reason. I don't know why she left at the one time in my life that I needed her most. The only other time I needed her as much was when I broke up with my boyfriend of 7 years in 1994. I don't know if I said or did something to offend her. Or if she was just scared or unsure of what to say or do. Or even if she just couldn't deal with it and then too much time passed and she was afraid I wouldn't forgive her. I don't know!? What I do know is that it hurts.
Another friend tried to be supportive, and in the beginning was. We were both pregnant at the same time and her son was born 2 1/2 months before Abby. We had planned to raise these babies together, just as we had done with our other children. But, in time, she said and did all the wrong things and got angry with me when I expressed those things that were hard for me. It wasn't so much about the things she did wrong as it was her attitude about it. Every time I said what I needed, I was met with a tone of frustration and impatience, like I was asking too much of her. In fact, at one time she said she just couldn't always remember to ask how I was doing anymore. Sometimes she just "forgot." When it became too much for me to overlook her inability to support me in the way I needed, I took a break from the relationship. A few months later I was ready to reconcile, but started hearing rumors about what I had done to her. She was telling anyone and everyone about how I rejected her and how mean I was. I finally received a hurtful letter on my birthday, the first without Abby, confirming the rumors and basically saying "happy birthday, but did you know what an awful friend you are?" The whole letter was about what I had done to her and there was no personal responsibility, care or concern for how I was doing in the midst of my grief. No, "I am so sorry I hurt you, Emily!" Just, "You are a bad person for rejecting me!" Oh and by the way, "I miss your friendship!" After much counseling, praying, and thinking about it, I decided not to invest a lot of emotional energy in working on the relationship, but to focus my energy on what I was already doing: grieving the death of my child and trying to get pregnant again. My counselor agreed, that took energy enough. She said that my grief was like a load of heavy books and that people could either lift off and carry one for me, lightening my load, or add another to the pile, making it heavier. My friend was definately adding more than she was taking and there was no room in my life at that time for friends who couldn't provide the support I needed or added to my grief. So, it was over.
That leads me to the last friend. We had a conflict just a few months after Abby's death over a blog she posted that made me feel that she was comparing our losses and was actually jealous that I held and buried Abby (she lost a baby in 2003 at 12 weeks). She had already hurt me with comparisons and trying to console me using her experience with loss, but I tried hard to overlook it. I know that the pain of her loss was real and deep and I didn't want to minimize her pain, but always comparing and relating her miscarriage experience to losing my daughter at birth was not helping me. It was only making me angry. I couldn't relate to her feelings and more than anything, I just needed her to listen and love me through it. After I blew up at her, she fought with me intensly to justify her loss and minimize mine. I finally ended the conflict and asked her not to write, call or email me again. The truth is we both needed a validation that neither of us could give the other. She later wrote a heartfelt blog about how deeply she regretted her words and wished she could take them back, and how she wished she could just show up at my house and let me know how sorry she was for hurting me. That meant so much to me and after a few weeks of, again, counseling, praying and thinking about it, I made an attempt to mend the friendship. I guess the damage had been done, though, because the friendship has never been the same. She continues to say hurtful things, whether she is aware of it or not. Most recently she made a comment that my period being late could be because of menopause! After I defended myself and gave all the reasons why I disagree (for one, I am only 37), she actually began to argue with me about why I could be wrong! It wasn't exactly a supportive, encouraging comment to give someone who, in light of months of failed fertility treatments and surgery, is facing the possibility that I might not be able to get pregnant again. While I don't think she is trying to hurt me, I do think the relationship is so full of insecurity, fear and distrust that it can't be what it was before and it's not good for me right now. So, I have again decided I need to back away from this friend. At least for now.
My three "best" friends are gone. One by her choice, one by my choice, and one because there is no other choice. None of these friendships are or can be what they once were. I am realizing that. They just are what they are. I can't do justice to what has happened in all of these relationships on a simple blog. Suffice it to say, they have been less than supportive or encouraging. And I desperately need loving, supportive people who will be patient with me while I continue to realize the "new normal" of my life and complete the journey through secondary infertility, with or without success. Working on relationships is too hard while I'm doing daily injections and going though the emotional rollercoaster of trying to conceive again. And, I am still grieving. I only need positive, uplifting people who can and want to continue to help carry this burden for me. People who are willing to carry some of my books without giving me any of theirs!
My sister has always been one of those people, but she moved out of state in January and now I hardly see her, let alone talk to her. My sister-in-law has proven to be one of those people, too, but she lives 45 minutes away; hardly someone I can just go visit on a whim. I have lots of acquaintances, and many who have genuinely expressed deep care and concern for me, but there are very few who "get me" and still want to be a supportive part of my life. Right now, I am feeling alone and abandoned by those who said they loved me and called me "best friend." No one knows how lonely the road of infertility is. I walked it once before and I'm walking it once again. Adding losing a child and losing three friends compounds the grief and pain. I am thankful I have at least two people in my life that love me enough to complete this journey with me and help carry my "books." That should be enough. But part of me just can't let go of those who have let me down. I am not angry. I am just so disappointed. And I can't let it go.
So, tonight I write this just to get it off my chest. Not to be analyzed. Not to be criticized. Just to put it somewhere that it's not weighing so heavy on my heart. Maybe someone will read it. Maybe no one will read it. But now it's out there. And it is what it is. Only God can change it. And maybe, in time, He will help it heal or, instead, teach me to just let it go.
There are many things that are difficult to accept about losing Abby. I think one of the hardest is the loss of friendships. I have lost three of my "closest" friends in one way or another. One simply stopped calling me. She was my best friend from the time I was 4 years old and the only friendship to survive childhood all the way to adulthood. We were in each other's weddings, at each other's children's births (except Abby), walked through the death of her father, mother and a close family "mother" like friend. I even went with her to her divorce hearing. Our last conversation was over the phone the week of Abby's funeral. She was going to bring us dinner that night, but called to say she was sick and didn't want to spread her germs "under the circumstances" and I never heard from her again. That was almost 16 months ago. Since then, she has gotten married and is going to celebrate her 40th birthday this year, probably without me. She has gone on with life without looking back. And for no apparent reason. I don't know why she left at the one time in my life that I needed her most. The only other time I needed her as much was when I broke up with my boyfriend of 7 years in 1994. I don't know if I said or did something to offend her. Or if she was just scared or unsure of what to say or do. Or even if she just couldn't deal with it and then too much time passed and she was afraid I wouldn't forgive her. I don't know!? What I do know is that it hurts.
Another friend tried to be supportive, and in the beginning was. We were both pregnant at the same time and her son was born 2 1/2 months before Abby. We had planned to raise these babies together, just as we had done with our other children. But, in time, she said and did all the wrong things and got angry with me when I expressed those things that were hard for me. It wasn't so much about the things she did wrong as it was her attitude about it. Every time I said what I needed, I was met with a tone of frustration and impatience, like I was asking too much of her. In fact, at one time she said she just couldn't always remember to ask how I was doing anymore. Sometimes she just "forgot." When it became too much for me to overlook her inability to support me in the way I needed, I took a break from the relationship. A few months later I was ready to reconcile, but started hearing rumors about what I had done to her. She was telling anyone and everyone about how I rejected her and how mean I was. I finally received a hurtful letter on my birthday, the first without Abby, confirming the rumors and basically saying "happy birthday, but did you know what an awful friend you are?" The whole letter was about what I had done to her and there was no personal responsibility, care or concern for how I was doing in the midst of my grief. No, "I am so sorry I hurt you, Emily!" Just, "You are a bad person for rejecting me!" Oh and by the way, "I miss your friendship!" After much counseling, praying, and thinking about it, I decided not to invest a lot of emotional energy in working on the relationship, but to focus my energy on what I was already doing: grieving the death of my child and trying to get pregnant again. My counselor agreed, that took energy enough. She said that my grief was like a load of heavy books and that people could either lift off and carry one for me, lightening my load, or add another to the pile, making it heavier. My friend was definately adding more than she was taking and there was no room in my life at that time for friends who couldn't provide the support I needed or added to my grief. So, it was over.
That leads me to the last friend. We had a conflict just a few months after Abby's death over a blog she posted that made me feel that she was comparing our losses and was actually jealous that I held and buried Abby (she lost a baby in 2003 at 12 weeks). She had already hurt me with comparisons and trying to console me using her experience with loss, but I tried hard to overlook it. I know that the pain of her loss was real and deep and I didn't want to minimize her pain, but always comparing and relating her miscarriage experience to losing my daughter at birth was not helping me. It was only making me angry. I couldn't relate to her feelings and more than anything, I just needed her to listen and love me through it. After I blew up at her, she fought with me intensly to justify her loss and minimize mine. I finally ended the conflict and asked her not to write, call or email me again. The truth is we both needed a validation that neither of us could give the other. She later wrote a heartfelt blog about how deeply she regretted her words and wished she could take them back, and how she wished she could just show up at my house and let me know how sorry she was for hurting me. That meant so much to me and after a few weeks of, again, counseling, praying and thinking about it, I made an attempt to mend the friendship. I guess the damage had been done, though, because the friendship has never been the same. She continues to say hurtful things, whether she is aware of it or not. Most recently she made a comment that my period being late could be because of menopause! After I defended myself and gave all the reasons why I disagree (for one, I am only 37), she actually began to argue with me about why I could be wrong! It wasn't exactly a supportive, encouraging comment to give someone who, in light of months of failed fertility treatments and surgery, is facing the possibility that I might not be able to get pregnant again. While I don't think she is trying to hurt me, I do think the relationship is so full of insecurity, fear and distrust that it can't be what it was before and it's not good for me right now. So, I have again decided I need to back away from this friend. At least for now.
My three "best" friends are gone. One by her choice, one by my choice, and one because there is no other choice. None of these friendships are or can be what they once were. I am realizing that. They just are what they are. I can't do justice to what has happened in all of these relationships on a simple blog. Suffice it to say, they have been less than supportive or encouraging. And I desperately need loving, supportive people who will be patient with me while I continue to realize the "new normal" of my life and complete the journey through secondary infertility, with or without success. Working on relationships is too hard while I'm doing daily injections and going though the emotional rollercoaster of trying to conceive again. And, I am still grieving. I only need positive, uplifting people who can and want to continue to help carry this burden for me. People who are willing to carry some of my books without giving me any of theirs!
My sister has always been one of those people, but she moved out of state in January and now I hardly see her, let alone talk to her. My sister-in-law has proven to be one of those people, too, but she lives 45 minutes away; hardly someone I can just go visit on a whim. I have lots of acquaintances, and many who have genuinely expressed deep care and concern for me, but there are very few who "get me" and still want to be a supportive part of my life. Right now, I am feeling alone and abandoned by those who said they loved me and called me "best friend." No one knows how lonely the road of infertility is. I walked it once before and I'm walking it once again. Adding losing a child and losing three friends compounds the grief and pain. I am thankful I have at least two people in my life that love me enough to complete this journey with me and help carry my "books." That should be enough. But part of me just can't let go of those who have let me down. I am not angry. I am just so disappointed. And I can't let it go.
So, tonight I write this just to get it off my chest. Not to be analyzed. Not to be criticized. Just to put it somewhere that it's not weighing so heavy on my heart. Maybe someone will read it. Maybe no one will read it. But now it's out there. And it is what it is. Only God can change it. And maybe, in time, He will help it heal or, instead, teach me to just let it go.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)