Life isn't fair. Death isn't fair. Dealing with both in the same month? Definitely not fair. I'm writing tonight because I need to get these feelings out. This is so old nobody reads this anymore. I'm not sure anybody ever did. But I will read it again and again. And maybe one day I'll share it so another doesn't feel so alone.
Yet again we lost another baby. And yet again we don't talk about it. Not to family not to friends not to each other really. Heck I can't even say it to myself. I just "got sick" again. Those precious days when you have hope again and you just know all those little tweaks (a big ones too) are gonna finally be the difference. The weird pills you put places you shouldn't have to in a dirty restaurant bathroom because you have to stay on schedule but you want to live your life, all the bagels and pasta you crave and all the bunless burgers you eat to avoid gluten, the cocktail that baby aspirin and horse size vitamins mix in your stomach and make you sick in the morning. It was worth it and looking back so easy to do now that you have a reward. You let yourself believe that after 5 years your time has arrived. Those days are so good. And they make the next days even more difficult. The alcohol you stop drinking and everyone takes notice and nobody believes your antibiotic story and your little happy smile don't help your lie either. But you don't tell because you have been down this road before and untelling is so cruel.
And then sadly all your hopes are dashed and you are so angry. You used to hurt and cry and feel sad. By the 5th loss and we won't even include the failed IVF cycle and $6000 blown right before your birthday, you aren't sad anymore. You are angry. So mad. Yet nobody gets it. You look for things to be mad about that might make more rational sense (for anyone that had to listen to my epic Verizon landline phone rant I'm sorry). Your relationship suffers because their dreams are fading too. You want to punch the realtor in the face when he asks you if you have kids and extolls the kid friendly features of every neighborhood you look in. But the worst is that you automatically say NO to protect your heart but deep down that No hurts and makes you angry because you do know you have babies. 5 of them but you just can't share that with everyone. But you want to share, you are dying to share, for days after the exchange you imagine what you should have said and if it makes people uncomfortable, fuck them. Yet you stay silent.
It almost becomes embarrassing. Like we are stupid for keeping trying. And when you call the OB office to schedule bloodwork, and the doctor just sighs before telling you to pick up the lab sheet ( I need to get a new doctor after that exchange). You agree not to tell anybody because you are both embarrassed that you are still trying and you feel dumb with all your hope. But at least now, I don't have to untell anyone. That is the one saving grace of this experience but it is tearing too. Untelling is hard but then now it is like it never happened and this part of your life never happened. The grief and anger you are feeling aren't real to anyone else. And the joy wasn't either. I think that is the hardest part is that the joy wasn't real to anyone. Not even to us since deep down we knew it wasn't gonna work. It never does.
