I've been trotting out the line, "I'm hoping for the best, but expecting the worst" since yesterday, but I have to admit that I'm a bit of a poser on this issue. For me, hoping for the best and expecting the worst is like trying to pat my head and rub my tummy at the same time. It's impossible. I feel the pull of one of the tasks to the detriment of the other. I either hope or I expect. I can't do both. What's worse is that I have these bipolar vacillations between hope and despair. It's the worst possible roller coaster. I have already consulted Dr. Google and doped up on stories of women who had small gestational sacs and went on to have normal pregnancies.
But, when I start hoping I swing back to expecting the worst.
A River Runs Through, who took this picture above, had a wonderful comment in her notes to the picture: "I knew what to expect, but sometimes expecting the worst, doesn't prepare one to accept the worst." Truer words were never spoken.
I am working today (well, trying to) in an attempt at maximum distraction. I also had a lovely dinner last night with my neighbor who went with me yesterday and her husband. I got to snorgle multiple poochies which definitely helped. Sweetie has been calling regularly and will be home tomorrow night. My therapist is on call and my parents are wishing themselves to be magically transported here. I also turned to my best friend who is pregnant (which amazingly so doesn't bother me right now) and she has been a wonderful source of encouragement and love. My other best friend has been equally supportive. And of course, all of you have provided such wonderful support.
And yet. I still have to get through this on my own because otherwise, I will never be myself again. I know that peace will come because it finally came after my last miscarriage (although the pain will always be there). Grieving, though, is hard work and not particularly fun. To their credit, my beasties have been very loving and have snuggled up with me in bed for purr support.
I'm also looking at adoption ... of a furry animal, that is. There is a huge adoption fair this weekend not far from our house. I feel the need for more fur in the house to make up for the lack of the at least one baby we would have had.
I will also fight the urge to once again shake my fist at the sky and scream "why me?". I know there is no answer. I will also go through all of the reminders of this IVF cycle, like the insurance bills and other documents that will strike me as particularly cruel. I will hear dates in the future and automatically calculate how far along I would have been. I will have to go through the hell all over again.
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6 comments:
Just know I'm sitting with you, thinking of you.
I am ao sorry you're going through this right now. You're right, you are the only one that has to go through this right now. The troops are rallied, your comforts are close. You are stronger than you realize and you will survive this. Not wholly intact, you already know some wounds don't heal, but you will survive this.
I've thought about you so much since I saw your heartbreaking post. I wish I could send you some tulips, make you a nice dinner, tell you long pointless ridiculous anecdotes that would make Laurence Sterne look like a linear storyteller, or bake you a cake. You know, do something tangible to help you feel better.
As I'm floating around cyberspace, I'll just have to delegate that to the various and sundry poochies and the kitties. I'm glad Sweetie will be back soon, and that you have a wonderful group of loved ones nearby.
I so know your pain. I just wish this was not happening to you. With my last m/c, I couldn't believe this was happening after I had already experienced an ectopic. I had stayed pretty hopeful with the IVF#2 PG and so it burned so bad to have the miscarriage. So I understand this constant swing between hopeful and preparing for the worst. You will hopefully have clear answers soon and I am just praying that even though all these bad things can happen, good things can happen too. Please take good care of yourself!
Wishing you good news and happiness. Hang in there!
Thanks, Lori. I feel you right beside me.
Deathstar- thanks for your wonderful words. I wish that I didn't have to go through things like this to prove that I'm strong, but there it is.
shinejil- I would love your tulips, dinner and ridiculous anecdotes. Your wonderful thoughts are a great substitute.
tabi- I'm sorry that you have to know what I'm going through! But, it's so good to see someone who has been through this twice now still get back on the horse.
fiestykel- thanks so much.
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