Struggling

Monday, January 24, 2011

I'm struggling with WiseGuy's news... I know that, in our community, we are faced every single day with infertility and miscarriage and stillbirth and infant death.  All you have to do is check out LFCA on any given day.  If there arent loss announcements, there are remembrances or calls for people asking for infertility support.  It's there every day.  And, even those of us on the "other side" (which, I think, is a fallicy... there is no other side.  I have living children but I still have dead children, too...), are still infertiles, orphaned parents, grieving while living with happiness.  It's there.  It's always there.

And, dammit, it hurts.  It hurts so much.

People may ask how we could possibly care for people that, in most cases, we've never met.  But we can.  Because we understand.  Because, in some way, we've been there.  We've met because we were infertile or through fertility treatments or because, somehow, our child died.  We've reached out to wipe one another's tears through our keyboards and sent hugs of happiness at our joys through our computer screens.

And I know that all of that continues, no matter what.

But this weekend... It's been different.  I cant explain it.  I've been hit hard by every loss I read about and, most times, I shed tears in sympathy with these dear friends I've made over the last three years.  But this weekend has been full of sobs... Out and out, hold me while I cry, sobbing.  There has been something about Lola's death that has hit me in that secret, vulnerable place that rarely comes to light these days.  Perhaps part of it is the proximity to Nicholas's birthday and, soon after, Sophia's.  Perhaps part of it is the fact that I prayed for viability with Bobby and Maya and never looked beyond; I remember celebrating 26 weeks with Dr. B. because, that was the point where our NICU had such outstanding outcomes.  Sure, I was scared when they were born at 27 weeks, but, for the most part, I expected they would come home with me at the end of their NICU journey and that they would be healthy.  It isnt that I dont feel extremely grateful- I do.  I meet other 27 weekers- and older preemies too- who have ramifications of their prematurity or who are delayed; I realize how incredibly lucky we are that Bobby and Maya, thus far, are chronologically up to speed and healthy.  I look back and, even with my history... even with knowing people who delivered preemies in the 30s who passed away due to results of their prematurity...  I had such a naive belief that they would be okay.  All of this makes me realize just how simple that all sounds now... in light of this...

And part of it is that my heart just hurts... It hurts for WiseGuy and her family.  It hurts for everyone else who has ever had to face the road of infertility only to be faced with losing their child.  It hurts for everyone who identifies as infertile or as an orphaned parent, for everyone who has ever had their miscarriage white washed as not "really" a baby, for everyone who has ever faced Mother's Day or Father's Day with an ache in their soul that could only be filled by their child(ren) who are not with them on this earth.

Somedays, I can face the day knowing that we will face hurt and suffering...  But, other times, like right now... I just wish it over.  I wish it were not something that any of us ever had to face or, at the least, face again.  I'm angry and I'm asking "WHY!" and I'm cursing and I'm just so heartbroken...

Please, if you would and havent had a chance yet, visit Kristen's site and take part in a remembrance of Lola for WiseGuy.  There isn't a lot we can do right now, other than be here for her, and this is a way to be there physically as well as spiritually and emotionally.

4 comments:

Kakunaa said...

I honestly hadn't been hit so hard by news in our community since Rebecca lost her Lily at 23 weeks, which was right before we began our IVF cycle. I could barely open my Blogger account. I'm afraid to read bad news, I'm afraid to think about negative possibilities. I'm afraid I can't comment, can't empathize. I'm afraid. We see so many tragedies, like you said, but this, this is just...unimaginable. Feeling what you are feeling. HUGS.

My New Normal said...

I think it hits us hard because we have been there ourselves. We don't have to know the person in real life to know the terrible road they will now travel.

I am constantly amazed that even with all the medical advances, babies still die every day. It's just so terribly sad.

one-hit_wonder said...

I haven't been hit this hard since I had a miscarriage. This is one of the saddest things I've ever heard and I wish so much that I could help. But there's nothing anyone can do to ease this pain for her, as we all know. Wiseguy has been special to me because she's the one who got me to continue blogging when I felt I didn't have the strength to write anymore. I was so thrilled when I heard she was pregnant: I ran outside to tell the first person I saw (my mom) the news! I just can't believe this.

one-hit_wonder said...

Michele, could you pm me or e-mail me the information from Kristin about what this remembrance is and what I can do? I've tried e-mailing her and leaving messages on her blog but nothing's working.