A Letter to Mommies From The Other Side….


I see a lot of letters out there to different “groups”, but I wanted to write this one to mommies from my side of the fence.

To the Moms,

I see you at Walmart. You have your beautiful children with you. Your buggie loaded down with supplies for the week. Your little boy is dancing to a song he is loudly singing. Your little baby girl cooing along in her own way. I watch you as you desperately remind your son that he needs to use his inside voice. I see how stressed you are.

I see you in the neighborhood as I walk my dog. You vigilance as I walk past with a ” dangerous” dog is admirable. You watch carefully as we walk by. I wave, as people in the South do. You wave back and return my smile all the while watching. One of your children wants to pet my dog, you quickly try to shush him. I hear and we stop. I look straight at you and say it’s fine. You cautiously approach, your children come forward fearlessly. My dog behaves wonderfully and your comment on the matter is a surprise to you. We part having only spoken a few words, but your eyes are apologetic as you walk away.

I see you at a friend’s get together. We greet and talk for a minute. Your children come up and throw their arms around me. I soak in the affection of little arms and legs wrapped around me in a big hug. You watch and see the grief in my eyes. You know my story,you know what I have lost. I can tell, even after all this time, your are still uncomfortable around me. You watch me carefully as I listen to your daughter tell me some new thing. The chasm that divides us grows wider by the minute.

We will never be equal, you and I. You will only know the innocence and joy of pregnancy. I will only know the fear. We reside on opposite sides of an imaginary fence. I will never make it fully to your side, the best I could hope for is to straddle the middle. Yet, you showed me great courtesy and strength. The things that separate us are big, but you find ways to try to bridge the gap. Thank you. Thank you for allowing me to be in your child’s life, whether it be as a passerby or the lady with the doggie or as a friend. You show great courage.


A mommy to angels

This is not based on a single encounter. This based off my personal experience with different Moms that have crossed my path. When you lose a child, whether through miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss; the grief is a part of you. It’s not something that can be hidden all the way. It is an ever-present, a mark upon your very soul.¬†


It’s a Slow Process….

It hit me like a sucker punch to the stomach yesterday. This year would have been our first baby’s first Christmas. I have no idea where the thought came from. I was driving home from work singing Christmas songs when WHAM! Outta nowhere it hit me. I think I forgot to breathe for a moment. I had such plans for him! I wanted to watch his face as he looked the Christmas tree. I wanted to keep a sharp eye on him and keep him away from presents. I wanted to do my dramatic reading of Twas the Night Before Christmas. I wanted to do all those things. Instead, every day, every night, I look at the ornament that is his, and I pray and wish for him. I pray so hard.

Believe it or not, I am doing better since my last post. I am in a better head space. Kind of. I still have moments (like yesterday) and I am still very unsure of our future, but I am ok. I will say that it was hard this past weekend when I was back home. My sister has two beautiful daughters. She was cleaning out their clothes and she asked if I wanted her to save some for me. How do I answer that question? I had nothing for her. I couldn’t answer. It was like I was struck dumb. She didn’t meant it maliciously or anything. She was genuinely asking, hoping. I just….I had nothing. All the way home, I wondered how I should have answered that question.

This time of year is hard. It’s hard to be reminded that I am barren (to use an antiquated term). It’s hard to go anywhere. Yet, it’s exciting to see such hope. It’s exciting to be reminded there is good in the world. I know I have a long way to go before I am truly at peace with this path in my life. I know that finding peace will require a lot of surrender on my part. It will require that I pick up my faith that has been tattered and threadbare for so long. I know this. I will be working on it. I have to. I may not have much in the way of hope, but I can never lose faith. I have been through to much, seen to much, watched to many miracles happen. The worse casualty of all would be if I lost it.

I thought about leaving you with a Bible verse, but I think, instead, I will leave with this.


The Talk

I have been going back and forth whether to write about this or not. I decided that I needed to b/c writing is my outlet. Our first natural cycle was a bust. No surprise and I was surprisingly ok with it. CD1 came, bad cramps and all. Fine, I can handle that. What I can’t handle is hubby deciding we nee to talk about future TTC and treatments on CD1. That I can’t handle. At all.

We talk, I cry, and now I am lost. He wants to take more time off meds. I get it. I get where he is coming from. This has been the year from hell and since I started meds, things have gotten worse. Here’s some back story: I started meds in July. My mom got sick, pneumonia. Bad for her b/c she is a severe asthmatic with COPD. Well, she almost died. Yep, she coded and they brought her back. She made it through but never got better. The next few months she was in the hospital more than out and almost died a total of 4 times. Yes, I said FOUR. I almost lost my mother FOUR times. It was pretty devastating. Going through that on Clomid is a special kind of hell. Now she is recovering in a rehap facility b/c she is to sick to go home, but can’t stay in the hospital. It kills her. It kills me.

Hubby’s mom was DX’d with breast cancer. We thought things were going to be bad, and they were, but she has defied some odds. Now, though, she can’t live alone as I have alluded to in previous posts. Hubby is really struggling with the fact that he is going to have to put her in a home. I dunno how to help with that.

During all of this, my job decides that I need a major pay cut (read several thousand a year). Working for a non-profit is not fun when your livelihood is based on grants. This has put a HUGE financial strain on us. So much so, this led to our chat on CD1. What a craptastic day. What a craptastic talk. He wants to take several months off from meds so maybe we can enjoy life again. What he really means is maybe I can enjoy life. I do enjoy life, I find joy in things, I am not depressed, which is surprising considering the above. However, he wants me to be like I was before all of this happened. Before we got pg the first time. I can’t. I don’t know how to go back to that person. She is gone, replaced by a harder, more cynical me.

I feel like my TTC is a ticking time bomb. Not b/c of my age or anything, but b/c of the endo. The longer we go w/o a BFP the more chance I take on it ruining me. It’s horrible. I can literally hear my TTC timeline ticking down. I already said that my RE suspects my endo may be coming back. If that is the case, I dunno what we will do. IVF is not an option for us. Financially, we will never be able to afford it. I have one tube and one working ovary, if endo is coming back, I do not hold much hope for us. I am torn. I am torn b/w trying naturally for however long until hubby is satisfied that we are back to whatever, or just going on BCP to suppress it. I dunno. My head and heart hurts trying to figure it out.

Hubby wants us to keep trying naturally, he has all the confidence that things will be fine. I don’t have that. I never had it. I never will. I have come to terms with that. I don’t know how to deal with the things he said. How do I not become IF? I have a disease, hell two diseases and tubal factor IF. What am I supposed to do?! Pretend these things do not impact my DAILY LIFE??!! I take meds everyday to keep things semi under control. Every day I am reminded what I am dealing with. My female parts hurt everyday, Every. God. Forsaken. Day. So what is a girl supposed to do?! He had no answers for that, of course not b/c he doesn’t get it. He readily admits that. I love him for that. However, he wants a lot of things I am not sure I can give. I don’t know how to give. I guess when I get a sharp pain in my lady parts, I will just smile and hide it like I always do. He does not know what I go through on a daily basis. The constant pain, the sheer terror of continual failure, the isolation.

Life sucks. IF sucks monkey balls. Becoming a bitter shrew seems like a natural progression. I’m just sayin’. No one could really blame me, could they? Could anyone walk a mile in my shoes then expect me to be a happy go lucky individual? Could they deal with working with pregnant women and infants Every. Single. Day. Could they compartmentalize the constant triggers? Could they deflect the “do you have kids questions” ¬†every day? Could they smile and encourage a pregnant mom to be excited about this baby? Could they? Not w/o hiding themselves. Not w/o having some scars from it. Not w/o burying their heart so it doesn’t break every time and baby is placed in their arms. These are things hubby doesn’t know b/c how do I tell him?