Seems so shallow, my post title – ‘after failed IVF’. What it says is medical, what it feels like is such deep emotion.
My sister called and left a message today. She’s disabled, mentally, and doesn’t know anything about our infertility journey. She called to wish me a happy mother’s day. I don’t really know her rationale for it, but I do know she didn’t mean anything hurtful. Regardless, I cried as soon as I hung up from voicemail. I have been teetering on the edge of losing it for the last couple of days on the road to this Mother’s Day, but had been able to ‘suck it up’ until just then. Then the floodgates opened. It still – hurts – so – much. I don’t feel it getting easier.
No, we’re not ‘still’ on the journey, we’re not pursuing IVF anymore. We’re not adopting. We don’t have plans for children, at all anymore. But the loss still hurts like hell.
I googled for ‘mother’s day poems for mothers who lost a child’ and read some poems, some of which were good, but none that really rinsed out the ache that I was hoping it would. I thought about writing my own – I was a writer once upon a time, and wrote pretty good poetry…especially about sad things. But somehow, the blank screen stays that way, and I can’t find the words to even begin. Do I write how I feel? The feeling of loss and emptiness it left me with? Do I try to comfort myself by writing from a baby’s perspective, all safe and sound in heaven but visiting me bedside each night to wipe away my tears? Gah. What’s the point? It seems all too masochistic to be cathartic.
I ask myself if I regret trying IVF. Of course you go into it hoping it will work and you’ll never have to ask yourself this question afterwards, thinking that you are responsible for creating a life that maybe wasn’t meant to be created, or wasn’t supposed to be created in such a way. At least, I did. No, I don’t think I regret it. If we hadn’t tried, I would have felt like I didn’t do everything in my power. I do feel like we tried our best, we did all the right things, and no I don’t think it was wrong to create those lives. We were blessed with the opportunity and ability to get the medical help that we needed to help us with it, so no, I don’t think it was morally wrong. Do I regret not trying a third time? I don’t think so. If the outcome wasn’t positive, which seemed like a very good chance, I think the emotional wear on us would have been too much. We had such a hard time getting through the two times we tried. No, I think deciding to say ‘enough’ was the right decision to make.
I want to blast on Facebook the pain that we sisters of infertility suffer on days like Mother’s day. I want to blast people who are insensitive and find self-importance by touting their ability to have children and shroud it with having been blessed (supposing that makes us not blessed).
I guess I am angry. I am in pain. I think it’s to be expected. I wish it would pass, but it’s been 2 years and it still feels so raw. I think I’m angry at the lack of recognition of the pain that we experience – that I experienced. When we went through it, the few people that knew didn’t understand why we were sad for ‘so long’ (we started the fake smiles after about a week for their pleasure). Others didn’t say anything at all, I guess not knowing what to say.
I guess I don’t even know what to say.
My angels
How I longed to hold you
To bathe you in love,
Warmth,
The light of my heart.
Your father
So wanted to give you
All things princesses
Deserve;
And then some, and more.
Created
Through eternal love and
All things beautiful
in us;
You felt it, I’m sure.
Years pass with
Lingering emptiness.
You are still missed,
my loves,
You are my children.
I ache
Unable to coddle
Or hear you call me
Mommy;
At least, not today.
I mourn
Over and over
The days we won’t share
Joys, pains;
That never will be.
I dream
You all await me
When I pass through the gate
Pieces
United again.
I could have written this entry word for word. Our journeys sound so parallel. Stay strong.