I AM Grateful

Today I got the response I knew I would eventually get in regard to the possibility of not being able to have any more children. That is to say, the response that had no feeling behind it. The kind where the person is really telling you to suck it up and move on, rather than giving you the heartfelt canned response. I am sure you know which one I'm talking about: "At least you already have your daughter." I would expect that response from someone who didn't really know or care about me, but I got this from someone I considered to be a dear friend. I didn't even tell her about my news. She heard about it from someone else and approached me to ask me how I was doing. I'll be honest, it hurt.

She didn't even give me the chance to tell her I AM grateful that at least I have my daughter before she moved onto another subject. It took all I had to sit there and be polite.

Because of this, I feel like I need to put things into perspective for anyone who isn't or hasn't been where I am right now, just as I felt I needed to put infertility into perspective for the rest of the fertile world. I am doing this for me and every other woman who knows what I am going through right now.

For those of you still trying for #1, you know how strong that feeling and desire is to get just one baby? Well, after you get that one baby, that desire to get another one is equally as strong. It isn't that you don't appreciate the first one, or that you are ungrateful, it is that you have a desire, an internal drive to bring more offspring into the world. You know how you would and are doing everything you can to get #1? That drive is still there just as strong when it comes to #2, if not more so because now you know exactly what it is you a trying for.

This time you already have an attic full of baby clothes, toys, bouncy seats, car seats, bottles, etc. that you stored away after #1 so you could use it all again on #2. You lovingly put all of those things up there, along with your maternity clothes, all the while telling yourself it was okay to do so because you would get to use them again. You had to tell yourself that to keep the IF feelings at bay. To keep from hurting, you tell yourself that the precious moments in which those items were used will be repeated with a sibling for your baby. You put them up there while envisioning your first child entertaining your next child in that bouncy seat while wearing those shorts with those booties. You fold up your maternity pants and pack them away, promising to see them in a year or so, all the while praying you are right. That is the only way you can cope with hiding these items away, especially after fighting so hard to get to use them the first time.

Getting the news I got on Friday isn't a suck it up deal. It is the death of a dream. A dream I have had since I was a little girl. The one in which I would grow up, get married, and have three children. The one where I watch my children playing and fighting with their siblings. The one where I take my children to Dis.ney La.nd and they have a riding buddy for the roller coasters. It is the realization that my daughter might not have anyone to play board games with when all of her friends have to go home. It is the realization that I, as her mother, cannot give her the one thing I want more than anything for her because I had it growing up: SIBLINGS.

Whom will she seek out Christmas presents with? Whom will she wait for Santa with? Whom will she keep secrets with? Who will play on her playground with her when her friends can't come over?

I had a friend who was an only child growing up, and she always wished she had siblings. I learned not to wish mine away around her because it hurt her that I had what she wanted and would never have. I had friends and playmates at my house 24/7. Now that we are all grown up, we travel across the country to just see each other. We are a very close family.

Can you see why I would want that for my daughter? Can you see why this news is so devastating to me? In some ways, it is like a miscarriage for me. I know a miscarriage would be much more devastating, but this is still very devastating to me. It isn't just about me, it is about the childREN I can't give my husband, and the siblings I can't give my daughter. This is a major loss to us.

This has nothing to do with my not being grateful for what I have. I have said all along that my daughter is worth everything I went through to get her, and I would do it all again in a heartbeat. I mean that. My blog is a testament to just how much I love my darling baby girl. The last couple of days I have hugged her tighter, held her longer, kissed her more, made each second together count for twice as much, told her I love her more, and look lovingly at her more. She is probably feeling smothered because I already did those things in excess before Friday.

People tell me I can adopt or surrogate. I am all for adoption, but it isn't all for us. We looked into adoption when we were going through infertility, and it never felt right. Surrogacy is like walking a fine line. They are options, yes, but they aren't what I saw in my dream. I realize I have to accept reality and that my dream may have just been that, but I deserve to grieve the loss of it without it being minimized. Without being told in a not-so-nice way to suck it up and be grateful. I deserve as much sympathy as I would if I had miscarried, because the way I see things right now, I did lose my two babies. They were ripped from my grasp by a scalpel 2.5 years ago. Had that septum been left alone, I could have been pregnant long before now.

This is a death to me. It is a death in my heart and my head. I am having to lay to rest my dream of giving birth to three babies after I already went through years of infertility hell.

I only want one thing out of this post, and that is to put the word out to the rest of the world what women in my position are going through. If you have to give us canned responses, at least make them seem like they are from the heart. We're going through enough without heartless responses. Remember it is the same as a death to us. Treat it as you would any other announcement of loss, and if you can't give empathy, then please don't say anything at all.