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The Waves that Keep Washing My Feet

The last few days have been full of epiphanies.

I tend to take a bath after I am back from the office to refresh myself. A couple of days ago, while dousing myself with cold water, I had this sudden recall of the dream I had right after my embryo transfer - the number of beings in the dream and their character. And this recall was unexpected, and I wondered if there was something there that I completely missed.

Atleast two evenings out of the last three have ended with me sobbing on my pillow. And I feel horrible, and I wonder how I have the energy or the will to try again. How hard will it be? And mostly I lament her absence - her in-the-face, rude, jolting absence.

Today evening, I thought of if I could just do this whole want-pregnancy-get-pregnant thing again. I am awfully aware of how scared I will be throughout, because I am more likely to bungle in the end (when everything is expected to end with a happily ever after) rather than during the whole while.

Epiphany #2 was the realization that bungling like that has been me for so many instances that I shouldn't have been surprised.

What if I never become pregnant again? What if I do and I lose the baby again? What? What? What?

I couldn't come to a decision.

I have never felt as barren as barren I got after she died.

Comments

  1. ((HUGS)) No helpful words, but you're in my thoughts and prayers...

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  2. Those "what if" questions are awfully hard to answer because you'll never know the answers until & God forbid one of them comes true.
    How about answering this question - what if you never try again? What if you gave up on trying all together? Can you live with that "what if"? Can you live with not trying again?

    (((hugs))) to you dear friend!

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  3. I have no answers. Only that it must be unbearably difficult to want another pregnancy and baby yet feel the weight of the incredibly huge emotional risk you are taking.

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  4. My heart is so heavy for you. I wish I had answers for you. (((HUGS)))

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  5. Oh my friend...
    I don't think I ever told you that a very good friend of my mom and dad had a still birth (full term, all was perfect, just the doctor let her labour too long and didn't realise the baby was in distress). She got into deep deep depression as I'm sure you can understand. No way she was trying again yet the void was so so unbearable. So she did eventually get pregnant again, spent most of her pregnancy between the couch and the bed but had a perfect healthy baby boy. She never really overcome the loss and by the time I got to know her and her family she still had involuntary twitches. But she did find her smile and laughter and the son (who's a few years younger than me) is the light of her life.
    You can do it sweetie, you can.

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  6. You have such a way with words. Even though I am not in your shoes I get a sense of what you must be feeling.

    Abiding.

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  7. No words can remove these feelings. Just know and remember that we will all be making this journey with you and will hold you up when things seem the bleakest.

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  8. No wise words are coming to me, but just wanted to let you know that you're in my thoughts every day. (((hugs)))

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  9. No answers, just faith, hope, and love.

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  10. ((hugs)) and love for you sweetLady. Why is life so painful?

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  11. (I am not Anonymous but I can't seem to sign in under Mad Hatter...)

    Your last sentence says so much.
    I believe in dreams.
    And I believe you will be able to heal - not completely, but enough - and find the love in your heart and the will in your soul to try again. And your body will follow your lead.
    Love to you,
    Maddy

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  12. And then, magically, it let me sign in.

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  13. Fear - it's almost inescapable. I wish I had a solution for you, but you'll probably just have to power through it. You can do it though...

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  14. (((hugs))) My cousin went through this as well with her last pregnancy. Hoping and praying everything would end up ok (it did). I think you aren't going to be able to get away from these fears, but I do think you will be able to get through them as time goes on and you see how things unfold. Unfortunately I have no real advice, just hear to listen and support you! Praying for you!

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  15. I wish I did have the answers for you. I have the hope for you...

    Sending love today as always.

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  16. I am so sorry you are going through this.
    Thinking of you, as always.

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  17. oh my god, my stomach hurts reading this post, i am so very sorry.
    xoxo

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  18. There are no answers. All you can do is put one foot in front of the other and hope you are on a good path.

    You didn't bungle anything. You had no control over what happened to your daughter and were not responsible for her death. It wasn't your fault.

    Her absence will always be a part of you, but you are not barren.

    Will you do something for me? The nights you are crying into your pillow, allow yourself five minutes to surrender completely to your grief. Give yourself permission to cry, sob or howl as the pain demands. Then after five minutes, get up out of bed, stand tall, take three slow deep breaths and go write down one thing that you really, deeply love about yourself. Then go back to bed and in the morning write down the previous night's dream (if you can recall it). After a week or two, read through all of your notes and see if your path is any clearer.

    I am off to search Twitter (in lieu of marriage)! Arohanui xx

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  19. There are no answers. You can only do what you think is right for you. One day at a time. Thinking of you xx

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  20. My heart hurts with you in your grief.

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