Because, frankly, I'm a little ticked.
WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT FROM US???
We've tried everything. We eat healthy, organic foods and have for the past 2 years. I don't salt my food, I eat the correct amount of fruits and vegetables daily, and I try to avoid dairy in large amounts (okay, not ice cream). We haven't used anything other than non-toxic chemicals in our house for over 2 years - even down to my shampoo. I go to acupuncture...I've even started taking the damn herbs. I have avoided yoga and pilates (at Dr. request and against my will!), and didn't do Urban Assault even though I was dying to. I listen to the Bible on my I-Pod (I fall asleep reading it, sorry God.) I've read The Complete Organic Pregnancy book cover to cover. Hell, I've read tons of books. I teach children to read, write, be inquisitive about life and to love others. I drink a lot of water. I regularly attend church. I tithe...even though we are soon going to rent our house out for a year and MOVE IN WITH MY MOM since infertility has us so far in debt we can't see straight. (Yes, you read that right.) I don't drink alcohol, haven't had a Coke in 3 months, I practice deep breathing, visualization, and all that BS. I get 8 hours of sleep, avoid unnecessary medication, I've never smoked, and I pray. A lot.
Don't tell me we're trying too hard. Don't tell me to "relax", that I'm young, that it will happen when the time is right, to just believe, that it wasn't meant to be before, to enjoy the time I have alone, that stress makes it worse, that our losses were "for the best", to stay positive, or to "just" adopt. I don't want to hear what your friend's cousin's aunt did to get pregnant, that I need to "enjoy" trying, or I just need to take a vacation. It's best not to tell me how easy you get pregnant or how you have to be really careful since your husband looks at you and you are pregnant. It's best not to tell me that you will just die if you don't have the sex of baby that you wish to have next, or about the twins and triplets your friend just had.
I can't walk in my neighborhood, go to the store, to a restaurant, to church, to work, to the gym, listen to the radio, have a face to face conversation, drive in a car, talk on the phone, read my email, or watch tv without the constant reminder of what I do not have or the reminder of what I could have had. It's tiring. It weighs heavily on me. It's a burden I try to give to God, but have not quite figured out how to release myself from.
Don't stop calling me if I don't answer. Sometimes it is just too much to pick up the phone. If I smile and it doesn't seem genuine, don't be hurt. If I seem distant, don't take it the wrong way. Don't judge me. A mother's grief after losing four babies is raw, primal, deep, and as a good friend once said...normal and necessary. I cry a lot...you just don't see it. I can put on a happy face and for the most part, it's real. But, if I get quiet in a conversation, be sensitive. We may be talking about teaching, cooking, or shopping...but I will be thinking about my babies. My mind will be wrapped around their faces, their fingers, their toes. Don't stop talking to me. Don't tiptoe around me or ignore the whole thing altogether. It's nice if you acknowledge Kinsey and Ryan. I will probably cry right then and there, but it's not like I wasn't thinking about them 2 seconds before. Don't stop talking about your children because I love them and celebrate each of their milestones right along with you. Don't hold it from me if you are pregnant or fret over how I am going to handle it...just don't rub it in. Tell me that this sucks and that you are praying for us. That's about all that you can say.
By now, if you know me in real life, you might be thinking I am writing this about you. However, I am not. Yes, all of the above things have been said to me, and I know that I've said some myself before I became a case study in infertility. I'm writing to get it out so my head does not explode. I don't write any of this for your sympathy or for attention - if you know me, you only have this address because it alleviates some of the stress of communicating the progress in person or on the phone. I'm writing because I am angry, bitter, and very jealous. I'm writing so tomorrow I can come that much closer to putting on a happy face and meaning it all day long. I'm writing so My Babe can know my innermost thoughts when I act irrational, short, distant and quiet. I'm writing to educate others on the excruciating pain of infertility. I'm writing because I don't want to lose hope, I don't want to lose faith, and this is the only way I can get through it. I write this for my sweet babies, to honor their lives and to mourn the loss. I write to heal. I write this for me.