Yesterday, I was at the lowest place in my grief again. I was at that point where I just couldn't see the point in living any more. I was of the mind that if I have to live the rest of my life without Kara, I don't want to live.
It started in the grocery store on Thursday when I heard the song "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." That song sent me over the edge of the abyss where I stayed until last night. The song pointed out to me the fact that I would never see my daughter again until I die. I know this, of course, but sometimes when its bluntly put in front of me, I lose it. How can I survive another X years until I'm with her again? How can I long for someone so intensely, and know that I'll never be able to satisfy this feeling? I'll never hold her. I'll never smell her baby smell. I'll never see her eyes or hear her voice. I'll never feel the solid muscle and bone as I hug her to my body. I'll never know if she can hear my voice tell her how much I love her every day, every night. How can the human psyche wrap itself around this concept? The longing simply seems too much sometimes. I don't know how to live with it.
Today, I woke up with a more positive feeling. I don't know how to explain it. I woke up at 2am thinking about our next (and 7th) IVF cycle and thought, maybe this will be it. And even if I DO conceive again (which isn't likely with my old eggs), I'll never have Kara back. I'll long for her until the day I die. Of that I'm sure. But, having another child would give me someone to pour my love into. Maybe another child will help ease the unbearable longing. Maybe another child will give me something to live for. I've mentioned it before, and without going into too much detail, we are exploring other options for having a family. Simply put - we're not taking 'no' for an answer. We will have a family, no matter what it takes. That said, I'm becoming optimistic that we will have children in this house sometime next year. If this optimism can buoy me through the hard times, then I must focus on the optimism and not the sadness and emptiness I now have. In the words of my therapist "This is a temporary place. You will be in a better place 1 year from now, 2 years from now, and so on." I believe her. Unfortunately, I want it all NOW. I'm not a patient person and yet infertility and babyloss makes one realize that we're not really in control, at all.
My awesome therapist also wants me to focus on the positive things that Kara has given me. There are many (the topic of my next post) and I must focus on those instead of focusing on everything that I've lost. That's my assignment this week. We'll see how I do.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Knocked down again
It's been a few weeks since my last post. I have this problem...I only feel the urge to write when I'm feeling down. When the grief grabs me, I need a release. I can't seem to put the good days into writing yet.
The past week has been very difficult for me. It starts as a restlessness, almost a mania, where I feel an urgent need to be physical. I can head it off usually with a 4-mile walk or going to the gym to pump iron. But sometimes I'm just too tired, so there's not enough time for my hour (or 2) workout. So I clean the house, do laundry, go shopping - anything to try and burn off the need. Sometimes it helps. But sometimes it doesn't, and the inevitable sadness overtakes me.
Despite being quite active this week, there were a few days where I could not outrun the sadness. No amount of housekeeping, shopping or laundry would help. Work did not help. The sadness pervades my every thought and I go from 'I miss my daughter' to 'I'll never get pregnant again.' I am grieving the loss of my beautiful daughter and going through my 4th IVF cycle since her death. (The 7th IVF cycle since we started TTC almost 3 years ago.) When will I be the lucky one to get a BFP? Will I ever? The grief grabs me from behind and drags me to the ground. No matter how hard I try to outrun it, it forces me facedown into the dirt and rubs my nose in it. I cry, I sob, I hate life. I am grieving my daughter's death, and the death of my fertility.
I am just about through with fertility treatments and looking into other options. I can't take the emotional roller coaster of the drugs, the 2WW or the genetic testing of the embryos. My life is broken down into 3 month cycles. 1 month to actively 'cycle' and 2 months of resting the old ovaries. It sucks. And all the while, I grow older.
I feel like a broken woman - old, tired, worn out. I'm not the person I used to be and I hate it. I hate this life - I hate the fact that my daughter is buried in the ground a few miles away instead of being here alive with us. I HATE IT! I want to reach into the ground and pull her into my arms when I'm there. I'm so broken from losing my daughter - how can I ever love another child the way I love her? And how can I live my life if I have to live childless? What if I can't get pregnant with my own eggs? Can I accept the future, whatever it brings?
I'm tired of being powerless. Tired of being sad. So tired of infertility drugs and abnormal embryos. Really tired of seeing new babies in the neighborhood. I hate myself and the fact that my body couldn't bring my baby alive into this world. I hate myself also for the fact that I can't get pregnant (with or without IVF, apparently.) I wasted my youth and my eggs. I thought pregnancy + 40 yrs old = IVF. I also thought that 9 months pregnant = live baby. What an impossible thing to accept, our powerlessness over life and death, and our own fertility.
The past week has been very difficult for me. It starts as a restlessness, almost a mania, where I feel an urgent need to be physical. I can head it off usually with a 4-mile walk or going to the gym to pump iron. But sometimes I'm just too tired, so there's not enough time for my hour (or 2) workout. So I clean the house, do laundry, go shopping - anything to try and burn off the need. Sometimes it helps. But sometimes it doesn't, and the inevitable sadness overtakes me.
Despite being quite active this week, there were a few days where I could not outrun the sadness. No amount of housekeeping, shopping or laundry would help. Work did not help. The sadness pervades my every thought and I go from 'I miss my daughter' to 'I'll never get pregnant again.' I am grieving the loss of my beautiful daughter and going through my 4th IVF cycle since her death. (The 7th IVF cycle since we started TTC almost 3 years ago.) When will I be the lucky one to get a BFP? Will I ever? The grief grabs me from behind and drags me to the ground. No matter how hard I try to outrun it, it forces me facedown into the dirt and rubs my nose in it. I cry, I sob, I hate life. I am grieving my daughter's death, and the death of my fertility.
I am just about through with fertility treatments and looking into other options. I can't take the emotional roller coaster of the drugs, the 2WW or the genetic testing of the embryos. My life is broken down into 3 month cycles. 1 month to actively 'cycle' and 2 months of resting the old ovaries. It sucks. And all the while, I grow older.
I feel like a broken woman - old, tired, worn out. I'm not the person I used to be and I hate it. I hate this life - I hate the fact that my daughter is buried in the ground a few miles away instead of being here alive with us. I HATE IT! I want to reach into the ground and pull her into my arms when I'm there. I'm so broken from losing my daughter - how can I ever love another child the way I love her? And how can I live my life if I have to live childless? What if I can't get pregnant with my own eggs? Can I accept the future, whatever it brings?
I'm tired of being powerless. Tired of being sad. So tired of infertility drugs and abnormal embryos. Really tired of seeing new babies in the neighborhood. I hate myself and the fact that my body couldn't bring my baby alive into this world. I hate myself also for the fact that I can't get pregnant (with or without IVF, apparently.) I wasted my youth and my eggs. I thought pregnancy + 40 yrs old = IVF. I also thought that 9 months pregnant = live baby. What an impossible thing to accept, our powerlessness over life and death, and our own fertility.
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