Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Are there titles that suit this sort of thing?

No one ever wants to be one of THOSE people, but I fear I've reached that status in a lot of respects.

First of all, I hate to make people feel badly.  Even though I come across with an I-Don't-Care attitude, I am truly bothered if I think I've insulted someone or put them in an awkward position.  An even more *awkward turtle* situation is to put them in an awkward position just by virtue of what you are. 

There are few people who can swing through the monkey bars of understanding on one side while remaining unapologetic for their current life situations.  I'm not one of those people.  I feel guilty for things over which I have no control.  So when you announce you are pregnant and I cry, I feel like a douchebag.  And that's totally not your fault.

On the flip side, it's not my fault either.  I didn't choose to cry.  It has become a spontaneous reaction to an announcement I've come to anticipate from any other breeding human being on the face of the planet.  I've even practiced my I'm-happy-for-you face in the mirror (it's scary).  But the funny thing, and the thing I have the most difficulty understanding myself, is that I'm generally VERY happy for those announcements.  I LOVE babies.  I'm excited that people get the opportunity to move into this stage of life and I understand it's scary, exhilerating and wonderful all at the same time.  I'm just sad for me. 

I haven't shared this information, but I feel like it's practically starting to ooze out of my pores so it's easier to lay my feelings out on the table instead of trying to bottle them in so they explode when I least expect it.  That gets a little too messy...especially in public...and it never happens when a restroom is available.

A year ago today I had one of those moments.  There were angels singing, shining spotlights and dozens of rainbows.  I was wearing a gorgeous sparkly gown and my husband danced into the house in a beautiful tuxedo and dipped me just before...Ok.  Wait.  It didn't really go down like that.  But there was a stick.  And that stick said "Pregnant."  So there might as well have been spotlights, rainbows and singing.

I've always wanted to be a mom.  I naturally believed it would come not long after Favorite and I married.  But it took more than five years for us to get that stick to show in our favor.

We had our first ultrasound at 7 weeks and heard a perfect little heartbeat.  Our twitterpated brains believed the baby to be a boy so we anticipated baby boy names and primary colored nurseries.

Our next ultrasound, at 10 weeks, showed a perfect baby head and arms, but no heartbeat. 

I'm not sharing this story on my blog for sympathy or dozens of comments that indicate love and support.  I'm sharing it because I don't feel like it's something I should be ashamed of enduring.  I've felt guilty because I want children.  I've felt guilty because I cry even though I'm happy for my friends.  I've felt guilty because I'm terrified of pregnancy announcements and excited for them at the same time.  And, sometimes, I feel guilty for hoping that this would happen to me, too.

I've complained about it quite a bit in the past.  Obviously, little of that has made it on here.  But I don't want this post to be about complaining or whining or anything of the sort. 

I read some old journal entries the other day and I was shocked to see how far God has brought us in this journey.  We haven't just survived.  Favorite and I have thrived together.  We've learned to function as a team and support one another.  Of course we cry.  Of course we get frustrated.  There are even months when I feel completely forgotten by God.

Recently, that's how I felt--forgotten.  That's when I found those entries.  That's when God showed me how far we've come.  Waves of gratitude, ya'll.  Waves.

Sometimes I travel down the "What If I Would've Carried Him" road.  The newest roadside sign there is that my son would be three months old this month.  It doesn't make me angry as often as it used to.  It mostly makes me sad.  But there are also road signs on the "What If I Didn't Have God" path.  They are much more grim than my current circumstances.

I hope I won't have to do this for six more years.  Favorite and I know our limits and I'm not sure if that will affect our overall outcome.  Actually, there are a ton of things I don't know.  And I'm not coming through this experience with some sort of weird serene expression on my face.  I'm scarred.  I'm generally tear-stained.  Sometimes I scream just because I have no words for my frustration (But I'm thinking of taking up boxing.  Anyone want to join?).

I think I've just realized that this is life--you know, what happens while you're busy trying to overcome loss and infertility (a sort-of quote from John Lennon with my apologies).  Mostly, I want to live that life as honestly as possible so others can see Christ in the here and now.

When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
                     --Isaiah 43:2

7 comments:

ktjane said...

How lucky am I to know such an amazingly brave woman? So much love for you, friend.

Sheena said...

Blubbering idiot? That would be me...you know, we talk about my lack of compassion yet I am bawling. You have NO idea how much I admire you for your strength and courage. In Christ Alone...

Newlywed Next Door said...

Thanks for the comment on my blog. This was a great post. Best line " So when you announce you are pregnant and I cry, I feel like a douchebag." That's so me.

Tara said...

I wanted to comment on this before, but you posted it on the Worst Day of My Life, so I was a little distracted. I feel guilty for things I shouldn't too. For example, there was no sparkly gown, no tuxedo, no rainbows when my stick said "Pregnant." There was "Oh, shit," a lot of stunned silence, and tears that were not happy tears. I feel guilty about that. I hate that I don't get to tell a wonderful story of excitement and jumping up and down. So even thought the situation is totally reversed, I feel you. Also, now I understand the look on your face at your parents' house when I told you I was pregnant. I feel guilty sometimes for being fertile--especially when I talk to my friend who has had 3 miscarriages. So I guess that's how I put people in an awkward position just by virtue of what I am.

*Ross and Katy* said...

I almost didn't leave a comment-but I felt like I should so that you would know you're not alone. My hubby and I wanted to wait until he had a full-time job (he was in school when we got married) to start trying for a baby. We were married in December, he graduated in May, he got a job the first of September. We talked about it and decided that since the doctors said it would take three months or more for the birth control to leave my system, that I would go ahead and stop when the pills ended. That meant that October would be month 1. The first of November came...but my period didn't. We were SHOCKED-excited, but still shocked. After a few weeks I was talking to somebody who didn't know I was pregnant and they were sharing with me how they had been trying for 10 years and had finally given up. They had both been tested and everything seemed fine so the doctors had no reason for why they couldn't conceive. I remember going home and not just crying, but bawling to my husband about how we had been blessed so quickly and we weren't deserving because there were SO many people out there who weren't as lucky.

I had our baby boy in July and while he is absolutely perfect in every way, I still feel a nagging guilt whenever I am around this person because I know that they can't have children. I felt that same guilt after reading your story. Nobody told guilt that there are supposed to be two sides of the story-it thinks there's only one. I thank God everyday for my sweet boy, and when I do, I pray for all of the women like you and hope that you will someday get to experience what I have :)

Tesha said...

I am so very sorry for you pain and struggle. I am visiting from Kelly's I was blessed to read this. I can hear your pain but also your trust in your savior. Saying a prayer for you now, that God would give you the desires of your heart.

Kelly said...

Thanks for sharing your story. Had I not miscarried I would be giving birth to my baby in 8 days. It has been so awful. I am 43 and cannot keep trying much longer. I feel like only God can get me through this because by myself I feel like it is too much for my heart to bear.