Every time I see another infertility blog announce a birth…I wait to see the picture of the baby, almost as if I don’t believe it. I think about that lovely babyhead smell, that incredible miracle looking back at you with sweetly unfocused eyes in which you can see the vast potential for life, those tiny toes and fingers that somehow are more delectable than the finest truffle…
I think about all that and I delete the blog off my list.
I still get angy in the maternity section of clothing stores. I don’t get angry when I see pregnant women or small babies. I mark each month off in my calendar resignedly, wistfully and sometimes fearfully. More often fearfully.
I wonder when this will stop? Menopause perhaps, or not, if that comes early. So when? When will the sorrow and reflections of sorrow leave. When will the anger be not even a memory?
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
Which shows like grief itself, but is not so;
For sorrow’s eye, glazed with blinding tears,
Divides one thing entire to many objects;
Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon
Show nothing but confusion,….
Richard II
I still feel the anger…when a friend who had an ectopic pregnancy and is now sitting in front of me successfully thirteen weeks pregnant with a health pregnancy, is complaining about morning sickness and I just want to slap her. I go the OB-GYN tomorrow for an initial fertility consult (or whatever it is when you say ‘I’ve been trying to have a baby for two years…what gives?’) and am DREADING being back in the office where I learned that my pregnancy had ended. I, too, hope all the negativity will let up soon. Maybe that happens in year three?
I had an appointment with my last OB, where I lost two pregnancies. I couldn’t go back in, I just couldn’t do it. If I do get pregnant again, there is another available specialist (how I am missing the plethora of doctors in SF right about now, Fayetteville is limited)that I will probably use instead.
I thought about getting on the elevator and going in and it was like being hit in the chest, just couldn’t do it.
Good luck on your consult, I *will* think about you and hope for something easily identifiable and fixable.