The Grip

I’ve been in and out of favor with lady luck
I gotta tell you
I’ve seen things I never wanted to see
I’ve got to get back on my feet
I feel like I’ve been sleeping
Sweet, sweet time
Has been a real good friend of mine
Waiting for that change of season
Oh the winter’s been so long
Searching for that rhyme or reason
You’ve just got to

Move on
Hold it together, move on
Life’s so short, move on
Only time will set you free
You put your tears behind you
Better get yourself where you want to be
I think of all the days and nights I spent crying
And I move on
~ George Michael, “Move On”

The grip that involuntary childlessness, that infertility, has had on me…it still surprises me even in the midst of overwhelming focus in other areas.
Two years ago today we got the only two pink lines we’d ever see, and for nine weeks, we were pregnant with our first baby. We went to Puget Island and sat together at a farm on the Columbia River, blissing out. It was real, it had worked, we were not going to take anything for granted. We were happy.
One year ago today I was two weeks post op from my vitrectomy to repair my retina that had spontaneously detached, lying face down and miserable, still grieving the loss of my child, my only child. We had already begun the domestic adoption process after the two year wait in Ethiopia (and tens of thousands of dollars) had gone down the toilet, but faced everything with a numbness that only those who have seen their fertility treatments all ultimately fail could possibly understand.
And to hear this week that we have to order another $425 worth of profile books, taking us to 145 (yes, one hundred forty-five) books ordered and a year into this second attempt to adopt after nine embryos lost to the death chamber that is my uterus? I’m wiped out…and like a BFN during those DEIVF years, reminded of the massive hole in my life.

And yeah, at one point recently someone had the nerve to call the farmhouse and our ducks “my babies instead” and I practically bit my lip in half.

So to those whining about secondary infertility? Kindly shut the fuck up. For anyone who’s made it to the other side of the fence? You too. Be grateful. Your dream came true. Mine? I get to have douchebags telling me that I should consider animals my children now… because it’s soooo the same thing.

Yeah, this grief doesn’t go away…it makes you pack up and leave town. It makes you crave walking out your front door and not hear the sounds of families because it still feels like a sucker punch. It has gotten you used to crossing streets to avoid strollers and bellies. It has made you wonder if bringing that dusty carseat and those handmade baby items to Astoria is even worth it, as you keep envisioning someday having to donate it all. It’s a surreal haze that never quite clears up.

And while there are good days, the fact is that you don’t ever truly heal from losing a child. I touch my belly and it’s hard to think about that short time he was growing inside of me. And when I hear about the world-class fucks at Walgreens who allowed their pharmacist to refuse to prescribe misoprostol to a woman who, like me, found out her baby was dead inside of her at 9 weeks and needed to release it? It again brings up all the memories of the worst day of my life.

I’m going down
Won’t you help me
Save me from myself
I hear the sound of the memory
Maybe time will tell
Suddenly my life is like a river
Taking me places I don’t want to go
But like all good men who swim too well
It takes all that I have just to cry for help
Then that voice in my head tells me no
I’m going down
Won’t you help me
Save me from myself
I hear the sound of the memory
Maybe, who can tell ?
Let me live my life beside the river
Take me to places where a child can grow

PS – read this:


5 thoughts on “The Grip

  1. I can’t believe that someone would refer to your pets as your babies?! As much as we love our pets, they don’t come close to filling that void. I think I have commented with this before but thank you for these posts. They really do make me feel so less alone. Big hugs XX


  2. I hear you on the secondary fertility, because honestly at this point, I’d be lucky to even have ONE child. And as much as I love being a kitty mama, the desire for a HUMAN child is still there. On top of that, I’ve had people question my decision to see a holistic doctor (who also happens to be a CNM, by the way) instead of a more mainstream one for my conceiving troubles and premenstrual spotting issues (that turn out to be most likely related). Yeah, except I’ve already tried the mainstream route – twice as a matter of fact – and all they did was downplay my concerns by either having me take a pregnancy test (which came back negative) or tell me that my spotting was “normal.” So yeah, mainstream obstetrics and gynecology has just about done nothing but fail me so far. Sorry you’re still having to go through this crap.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Oh boy, to leave home without having to hear and see families would be bliss. It just feels like nowhere but home is safe these days – friends are off to Disneyland later this year (with their kids) and it made me realise I’ll probably never go to a theme park as I don’t think I could go anywhere like that that’s full of families having fun 😕

    Liked by 1 person

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