Monday, July 23, 2012

Let Her Cry

I'm having a hard time lately. 

"Hard" might be an understatement. 

Not like those first days, but only because the quality, not the quantity, is different.  It's an ache now, a sprain on my heart and mind, not the gaping hole from the first days. Better, I suppose, but constant and not as noticeable to others as the gaping, bleeding, oozing hole was. People feel safe talking about babies with me now- we have 2 more expectant daddies at work, (at least it isn't the women) both told me directly. People want to talk with me about their kids/ nephews/ grand kids/ desire for grand kids etc etc. I don't want to hear them, but it's been too long to feel this unsteady when others talk about kids.

My eyes feel blurry from tears, recently spilled or still hiding out where ever the tears come from. I am thinking about Blue Sunday, and Blue Sunday’s elusive, possibly fictional Little. I feel as if I’ll never have a living baby. It is making Hub crazy when I “talk like that”. But what if “That” is our life? It certainly is at the moment. We’re childless, not by choice, for at least the next 10 months (Hub is away for my fertile period this cycle). 

Hub and I were in a spat the other day because he upset me and because I struck back at him in a mean, grouchy way. Not my finest wifely moment. I missed a payment on a credit card- one that is in his name and I neither use nor carry. I ask him to remind me when he uses it (which is rare) so that I remember to pay it. He told me the day he made the purchase and then never mentioned it again- and I forgot about it. As always, the feud devolved into me crying about my stress and how I can’t be expected to deal with every single thing. And after hugging me and “making friends” Hub says “I think you need help”
I knew what he meant, but decided to give him the out and said “You’re right, let me know when you use that card, pick up around the house and start cooking dinner again”. He didn’t take the hint and clarified that he meant counseling.

Now, I’m not anti-counseling. I went for a spell in college and had a very positive experience. However, this isn’t something I want or need to be counseled about. I’m not “crazy”. I don’t use that term meaning crazy like riding buses aimlessly while yelling, tickling my face and stealing returnable bottles right out of the hands of fellow passengers (as our local character does). 
I mean I don’t think I am inappropriately sad, overwhelmed, frustrated or even pissed off. This situation absolutely, fucking BLOWS. I DESERVE to feel the way I do. I have earned the right to “wallow” as Hub accused me of or, as I like to call it, “commiserate”. He thinks it is unhealthy  for me to read blogs, chat with others on Sad Baby Chat Board and just generally, okay, Wallow. It helps me know I am not alone. It helps me know that my sadness is normal.
Also, I am terrified to be treated as if my loss isn’t a “real” loss. That my sadness is out of proportion for my situation. That this was just like an early miscarriage. I can’t be told that my baby’s life didn’t count because he was not born, because there are no pictures, no tiny hat, no sweet little blanket, no service. This isn’t out of the realm of possibility, this sentiment is out there in those blogs, on those chat boards. My baby, who I wanted- want- desperately, is not here and will never be. My baby was so sick I couldn’t honor the wish of my mind to meet him, if only for a moment, because my heart said “a mother protects her baby from pain”. And my heart was RIGHT. 

No one, no matter how qualified, can give me words to heal my heart and mind. There is nothing that goes that deep. I won’t be medicated, I fear that it would hurt yet-to-be-conceived Little. I just want to get pregnant and carry a healthy baby to term and through life. THAT is what I need to feel less broken. I need to know my body works. A therapist can’t give me that.
I said this to hub and he went on about learning coping skills and how no therapist would ever say those things about it not being a real loss even if they felt that way. I said that was the problem, I’d always feel like they are judging me. May be because I judge myself. 

What’s your take, invisible friends? 

Let her cry...if the tears fall down like rain
Let her sing...if it eases all her pain
Let her go...let her walk right out on me
And if the sun comes up tomorrow
Let her be...let her be.
Hootie and the Blowfish, Let Her Cry


  1. I found counselling helpful after my TFMR however I agree with your point that the counsellor does not truly understand this kind of loss. My 2 counsellors that I saw over the last year were not judgemental over my decision, and I had a grey diagnosis. I would hope that any counsellor you go to will not be judgemental, I think you will be surprised if you do go that route at the compassion they have. I have not shared my story with many because of fear of judgement, so I do get your point, though. The best "counselling" I got was from the TFMR boards, however. Nothing beats connecting with others who have been through the same thing as those who have not will not really understand or know the "right" thing to say, even if they have experience in a broad range of counselling situations. I think it's a specific kind of pain. It's kind of like grieving but not for something past but rather something in the future, your imagined family life, and with infertility looming this future seems in even more peril. Good luck with what you decide to do, but if you don't go for the counselling you are probably not missing much. I wish you success on your next active cycle, looking forward to something new will help with your healing. Hugs!

  2. I think a counselor is a great sounding board. Just someone to listen and help you work through your feelings. No feeling is ever wrong, and anyone who tells you otherwise is a fool. Hopefully the counselor will just let you talk through your pain, express in a way that maybe you haven't before, and begin to heal your broken heart. I totally understand about you not wanting to feel like your pain isn't real. I feel the same way. My blog helps me deal with my emotions and I LOVE sharing it with other families experiencing similar pains. I also know exactly how you feel about the "what if" life you lead now. It's crippling. As I approach my next fertile period (next month) ALL the fears come pouring back and you have to make a decision: let fear keep you back or let love push you forward. We're all here for you whatever you decide!

  3. I forget where you live but I am thinking Boston? At any rate, a large metropolitan area? I counseled in DC with a woman who specialized in medical terminations among other things. Maybe I got lucky with the referral, but there are counselors out there who have seen this a lot and have total understanding, that the loss is a child, not an embryo. Your husband probably can't understand how the blogs make you feel better, but he should never judge your grieving, either. And counselors can help you with that, kind of sort out what's OK and what's not, e.g. when other people expect you to attend family-oriented events and stuff like that. Everyone has her own process and you need to do what is best for you, of course. But I would encourage you to think about how you could maybe use help with coping, not because you're somehow not supposed to be sad anymore. I was adamant about not taking anti-depressants, thinking my grief was "normal" and that's not what the drugs are for. But I guess I was wrong and my counselor told me she wouldn't see me anymore until I saw a psychiatrist. I reluctantly took the hint. And I think Prozac saved my life. Kind of a depressing thought itself, but I meant to say that sometimes we just protect ourselves and don't realize until later that we are really much, much worse. Keep reading, keep writing, keep honoring where you are. But don't deny yourself some extra understanding and attention if it will help. And email me if you want! {{{{{hugs}}}}}