Saturday, November 19, 2011

All over again

I just can't seem to shake my bitterness, the heavy emptiness in my arms. Another half dozen people announced their pregnancies on FB, someone I used to follow keeps bragging (in a round-about way "I'm so amazed at how my baby talks to me, anyone else's baby talk to them while they were pregnant", that kind of shit) about her pregnancy...

At least at work I don't feel totally alone in this, a lot of the parents I work with struggled with infertility (we had a set of twins who were their parents 8th IVF attempt). THEY UNDERSTAND the emptiness, the bitterness. I'm finding it harder to connect with my friends' kids, because I don't want to put forth all that emotional energy, I just get burned too many times (a family I was very close to moved to Australia, a good friend had a baby and we hung out a lot while she was on mat leave, but as soon as she went back to work her life got too busy to really do much). I want to be the only one, I want to be the one a baby cries for when I put her down, I want to be one of the only people who can comfort my baby, I want to be the one my injured child come crying to, I want to be the one they snuggle up to, I want to be the receiver of snotty kisses and drooled cheerios.

I think it's extra hard because of work right now, where we have a couple babies who are essentially dying, but their parents are unable (physically and emotionally) to come into the nursery to be with them. It sickens me (because I think "how can you leave your baby to die like this, alone and suffering?"), and my brilliant and wonderful and compassionate wife always reminds me that that is their journey, and not to compare mine to it. Also not to pass judgment on their ability or inability to do what I feel is right.


I know it's hard on J too. I have to put on my game face every month when she bleeds, and thankfully 90% of the time I'm OK with the situation we're in right now. I resigned myself at 16 when I came out that becoming a mother would be more complicated for me, but ultimately I didn't care how it happened (biological vs adoption).

I'm just weepy and angsty, and I know I'm not alone with these feelings. It's also hard when our parents desperately want us to produce grandchildren.

It's just that this empty ache hurts so much.