Woe is Loss

I couldn’t sleep last night. I had an exhausting day, but as I lay in bed I could not turn my thoughts off which is never a good thing when you are tired. So I started pitying myself. I thought about all I’ve gone through lately and how unfair everything was. Most days I accept my miscarriage with grace, last night was not graceful in the least. Instead I cried silent tears while my husband snored softly next to me feeling sorry for myself.

The road of infertility is a rough one. It is filled with pot holes, speed bumps, and wrong way signs. We’ve all experienced these things in one way or another but the thing I will never get over or accept is the losses. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the link between infertility and pregnancy loss. To me at least, it seems the odds are not in our favor when it comes to this.

Think about it, how many fellow inferiles do you know that have experienced at least one loss? For me, this is most of them. Very few get their happy ending without going through this particular cliff dive (if you are one of them, please don’t take offense, this observation is not meant to make anyone feel bad).  On the other hand, how many fertile people do you know that have never experienced a loss? I can think of dozens off the top of my head. Maybe this is me and my little world, but it seems to be vastly unfair.

The past week has brought more heartache for some incredible women on my blog roll. It makes me sick to my stomach every time I read about another crushed dream. I can’t help but feel like we can’t seem to catch a break. Truth is I would never wish this feeling on anybody. No woman should ever have cry herself to sleep thinking about babies that might never come to be or worry herself sick that one of her younger siblings will manage a child before her. No woman should have to hear that her pregnancy, one that she prayed, hoped, and worked for years, is not viable or over.

So why does it keep happening to us?

Maybe part of it lies in the fact that we are much more in tune with our bodies than most woman. We meticulously analyze every cycle and feeling till we are blue in the face and our google feels used and abused. In my case I started bleeding at 5 1/2 weeks, most woman would probably just have thought their period was late. I have a friend who was off birth control for a year. They weren’t trying, they tried to just avoid sex around ovulation, who conceived the first month they decided to try. When I told her of my miscarriage she actually confessed to me that she thinks she’s had a few…she just never got them confirmed. During the time they were not trying there were a couple of months that she was late, so she took a pregnancy test got a faint positive, then negatives within a few days. It seems to me that she might not have had miscarriages but chemicals. But there are still so many cases of blighted ovums and missed miscarriages that couldn’t be mistaken for a late period that continue to ravage our community that don’t seem as prominent in the “real world”.

Or maybe its just that people refuse to talk about it. It’s a dirty little secret that we sweep under our beds and hide away. I’m not accusing…I’m just as guilty. I refused to tell certain people about my miscarriage, but why? Maybe I feel like less of a woman because I was not able to do the one thing that my body was made to do. Maybe I’m ashamed because I feel like no one else I know has gone through the same thing. Maybe I’m just scared that it will draw attention to the fact I’m hurting.

This is not something I signed up for. I’ve had suspicions since I was a teenager that I would not achieve pregnancy easily. But I never imagined finally getting pregnant only to have it end a week and a half later. None of the women in my family have ever had a miscarriage. Seriously. All my grandmothers, aunts, my mom, none of them. I’m the first. This is not a road I am ready to pave. I have undying respect for those of you who are going through RPL. I honestly do not know how you do it, you amaze me.

Each day that passes I get more and more terrified. Terrified that this year will end the same as last year, with no baby and no pregnancy. This may seem like an overreaction because there are still 7 months and 7 chances. But considering how the last 17 months have gone it does not instill a lot of confidence in my head.

My heart is aching right now. Aching for me and for anyone who has ever had to say goodbye to a desperately wanted pregnancy. Whether it is recent or in the past…I’m sorry. Sorry if you have ever felt like you are the one being singled out for this incredibly hard journey, sorry that you have had to gone through all the emotional and physical pain, sorry that there is nothing I can really say to make it better.

I hope it gets easier for us all. I hope time heals all wounds and grants us clarity to accept what can not be change. I hope we all get what I desperately believe we all deserve.

 

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21 Comments

Filed under Depression, Infertility, It's not always about me, Miscarriage

21 responses to “Woe is Loss

  1. I honestly believe there is a correlation between fertility treatments and the higher number of miscarriages. It seems that forcing the body to do something it wasn’t doing on it’s own is not always a good thing. I’m very thankful that the technology exists but I also believe there is a price for it. My miscarriage was from a Clomid pregnancy so of course I think there’s a correlation, but there really does seem to be a higher number of miscarriages amongst the infertile community and I can only think that the forcing ovulation/pregnancy is to blame.

  2. Mrs. Wuestewald

    I have had the same suspicion about conceiving since i was a teen, in fact I really have a hard time seeing myself carrying my own child and giving birth. Do you think there is possibility we knew we were really going to have fertility issues? Also I think your correlation about TTC and higher miscarriage rates is due to the fact we are paying such close attention to the CD than those who have no suspicion of infertility. Best of luck the next 7 months I will be counting down with you.

  3. Tears to my eyes, Trisha…I felt like I was reading my own mind here. It is such a terrible, terrible experience. I am terrified that it will repeat. I am praying for you as you cope with your loss.

  4. sending you a virtual hug… I am sorry…

  5. I think about this often too. And then I remember myself before I went on BCPs. My periods were anywhere between 25 and 35 days, and had I been having sex, I’m sure I could have been almost 6 weeks before I would have thought to take a test. I didn’t keep track of my cycle days then, because they didn’t tell me when I’d need to carry tampons in my purse.

    I also think it’s something people don’t talk about. My mom had many miscarriages when we were young, but we only knew about the one that came in her second trimester. I don’t think it’s shame so much as wanting to keep the pain inside. Sometimes a lot of sympathy can be difficult in it’s own way – if it means you have to tell and retell your story when you just want to rest.

    I’m sorry you had such a painful night. Silently crying beside a sleeping partner is somewhere I’ve been too. It hurts, I know. I hope today is a little bit brighter. Take care.

  6. I’m so sorry. I have not experienced that kind of loss, but I hurt for those who have. I can only imagine how deep the pain must be felt.
    I often fall asleep on a tear dampened pillow, with my husband sleeping obliviously beside me. It feels very lonely, though I know I’m not really alone in my pain. Neither are you. Please know that, and that you will heal in time. I admire your strength and ability to express yourself through the pain. Praying and hoping for your next pregnancy to come soon to take away the sadness.

  7. I feel for you. Like you said, I think we are much more in tune with what is going on with our bodies than most people. For me, I never saw infertility coming. I thought regular periods meant I would have no trouble conceiving.

    Wishing you happier times to come!

  8. Thinking of you with all my heart… and agree that either others don’t realise and/or never talk about it. I didn’t realise how many others I knew had gone through early miscarriage until my loss.. and then they spoke of what happened to them. I hope each day brings you more peace and know that we’re here with you all the way xoxo

  9. amy

    You’re right, this journey is hard and is unfair. I wish there were some words to help. Those nights laying awake and alone (even if you aren’t alone) are so hard. Thinking of you.

  10. Oh, I can relate to so much of this! I’m TERRIFIED of repeating this awful experience in the months ahead, and just as terrified to go months and months without a pregnancy at all. I, too, have often wondered in these last weeks if there is a link between infertility and miscarriage, but have mostly concluded (perhaps just for my own peace of mind) that there isn’t. I think we just know our cycles too well and watch for the signs of pregnancy and loss much sooner than does anyone who lives in Fertile Land. I also think that, as you stated, people just don’t talk about their pregnancy loss much. It’s too painful. I’m not ashamed, but I certainly have only reached out to people who I know understand this pain — which is, surprisingly, more than I ever thought. Maybe I’m being naive in this conclusion, but sometimes, it’s the only thing that saves my sanity. Either way, I’m hoping and praying for a better end to this year for all of us…

  11. Reblogged this on Fertility Doll and commented:
    Sad but beautifully written post.

    “Each day that passes I get more and more terrified. Terrified that this year will end the same as last year, with no baby and no pregnancy. This may seem like an overreaction because there are still 7 months and 7 chances. But considering how the last 17 months have gone it does not instill a lot of confidence in my head.”

  12. That was a very well-written post! I can relate so much. I wish none of us had to face such a cruel, devastating thing like a loss. Especially us infertiles, who have been waiting for such a long time – only to have it taken away. Although, I wouldn’t wish a loss on my worst enemy, of course. I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through this. My heart goes out to you. Hugs!
    Thanks for stopping by my blog. ICLW #80.

  13. It is so unfair. Why do people who are already going through so much have to experience the heartbreak of loss? I think about it often and my heart aches for all the women and men who have gone through it. Hugz!

  14. I think its a combination of all of it. It isn’t talked about much in the real world, but I bet that many women also still have a late period and never realized they were miscarrying or had a chemical pregnancty. Its simply because we infertiles know too much, and to our own demise sometimes I think.

  15. Oh Trisha. Lady, every word hits home. I wish I had your strength to be graceful about all of this. I don’t; most days I’m simply angry or feeling despair.

    I think there are many reasons no one talks about infertility and miscarriage. Part of it has to do with sex (and our society’s extreme discomfort with the topic), but I also think a larger part comes from people not knowing what to say. So, they chose silence. Is it right? No. But it is the default. What I hope for, though, is the day that we do expand our families, so that every time some says “see, you just needed to do xxx,” my retort can be to hit them with so much information that their head will spin. Because it’s completely unfair that only those in the trenches should talk about this.

    Hang in there, lady. Somehow, someway.

  16. Shelley

    I keep thinking about 2012 too and how I was sure it would be our year to either get pregnant or have a baby (the latter is clearly out), and how with each passing month I feel more and more panicky that it won’t be this year either. If it’s not, I’ll be marking my third New Year’s without a viable pregnancy, let alone a take home baby.

  17. Whoa … this is such a heavy and amazing post. You have said what we all feel about our struggle with infertility. After I miscarried two years ago, my good friend just said — oh, it happens to a lot of people but we just don’t talk about it. It scares people. HELLO! Maybe if we talked about it more often, it wouldn’t be so scary or so sad. Ok, it would also be sad, but we wouldn’t feel so alone. That’s the sensation that gets me down the most. So, know that you’re not alone. Bad things happen to good people. You can’t control it all. Just be good to yourself and remind yourself of everything you are. A big hug.

  18. I wish I could take your hurt away, thinking of you (beeeeg hugs)

  19. I remember feeling as you described vividly. The ache of wondering wtf was going on with my body. I still have those pangs of longing now when I see a pregnant belly or if somebody mentions that they felt a kick because I never got that. Having Lil K has taken away us to a different place in life – where we are happy but it certainly doesn’t erase the past. In order for me to heal, I make a point of talking about “it” with people. I promised myself I would never be quiet in conversations that revolved around miscarriage and loss and I’m happy to say that my resolve to do so has landed me with some beautiful conversations with strangers and new acquaintances.

    Wishing you some healing tonight.

  20. Very true feelings and venting gong on there…. we all wish we could just help out with the hurt that is left {{HUGS}}

    Happy ICLW from #3

  21. Wow….just found your blog (thanks to you following me) and this post feels like I could have written it. I agree that infertiles seem to have more loss…yet maybe we are just more aware. Either way we seem to get kicked repeatedly when so many others sail through with nary a speed bump.

    Really loving your blog already! *hugs*

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