Excuse me while I vomit words all over this page. As I’m sure you can understand, I just need to get this out. Sorry if it doesn’t make sense.
In addition to the immobilizing grief of losing a baby, I’m experiencing a great deal of resentment and anger about all the different pieces of “fallout” from the loss. For instance:
- Once again, I have to do the “unfollow” on social media dance. I had just gotten to a point where the infertility thing didn’t hurt so much, and even “fertile” pregnancies didn’t really bother me. I didn’t need to screen my social media accounts for triggering baby-related posts or advertisements, because nothing triggered me anymore.
- New friends of ours went through IVF at the same time we did. In fact, their transfer was only 10 days after ours. It was her first, and I had helped answer questions for her about medications, and ease her mind about some spotting caused by the progesterone suppositories, and then put her at east again when it was time to stop the progesterone. My husband and her husband talked about the process and their feelings about infertility, which was amazing to me, as my husband doesn’t usually open up about this stuff. Her pregnancy is going well, thankfully, but it’s hard for me. I had to unfollow her on FB, as I just can’t bear to see what we SHOULD be experiencing at the same time. Not only that, I’m not in a position to support her while she navigates pregnancy after infertility. I’m literally the only person she knows who has gone through it, and it makes me feel terrible to just disappear. But I have to protect my heart.
- Screening e-mail and snail mail, and unsubscribing from all the baby-related crap. I was actually beginning to enjoy some of it. Now I’m once again being triggered by offers for discounted birth announcements.
- TTC… again… or not? This was supposed to be our second and last child. No more TTC ever again. After our baby was born, the plan was to purge all the maternity stuff from our home, and decide on permanent birth control/endometriosis management for me. Instead, we are faced with 1) deciding IF we will try again, and 2a) if so, HOW will we try – how much effort are we putting into it? OPKs, fertility monitors, supplements/medications, just have sex whenever we feel like it and hope for the best, FET? And for how long? 2b) if not, how do we make peace with that decision? When are we supposed to make these decision?
- Related to the above, what the hell do we do with all the baby stuff we were getting ready to use again, for the last time? Hide it, so it doesn’t taunt me as we decide whether or not to try again, or while actively TTC? Get rid of it, because we will probably never need to use it? Every time I see a baby toy or bottle or even a nursing pad (for some reason, they are STILL floating around everywhere in my house), I break down in tears.
- What about our plans to transition our toddler to a new bed and a new bedroom? Do we just abandon that idea, forgetting we ever planned to do it at all? Or do we proceed as planned, though we don’t need to? I literally go back and forth on this one all day long.
- Now, I know we don’t need to make any decisions about this stuff right now, but the mere fact that we do eventually have to think about this shit is really pissing me off. Because it wasn’t supposed to be this way. IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO FUCKING BE THIS WAY.
- Therapy. I’m a huge fan. But right now, I’m fucking angry that I need it. I resent that I have to take PTO to go to sessions, that I have to plan it around meetings, so that I don’t walk in late with a tear-streaked face or red, puffy eyes. I know: No one wants to be grieving. Clearly, not a single person chooses this. But, of all the times I’ve grieved, this one seems to be very different in the sense that I’m resentful towards the whole process. I know I need to grieve, I need therapy, but I really hate being here at the start of it all. I hate that I have work through this shit. Does this even make sense to anyone other than me? Basically, I’m complaining about it being a major inconvenience. No shit.
- Everyone asking me how I’m doing. I can’t tell you how sick I am of that question. I know people mean well by it. I’m glad they ask, even while I rant in my head about how impossible it is to answer that question. It’s not so much the fact that the answer changes from one moment to the next. It’s more the fact that I don’t fucking know in any given moment. I’m functional. I shower, I go to work, I play with my daughter and tend to her needs, I do household chores, I plan for future things. I’m sad most of the time, but I feel happy at times, too. I’m not in a state of constant despair, but I do have moments when I can’t even move from the weight of my grief, or when I need to close my office door so that my colleagues can’t see the tears suddenly welling up in my eyes. So, I guess it’s not the question that bothers me so much as the fact that I don’t know how to answer it.