My first day back could not have gone worse. I cried walking into that building and I sobbed walking out.
The only *good* thing that happened was that when I popped in to say hi to one of the women in the building who knew about my pregnancy and our IVF stuff, she gave me a big hug and asked me how I was. I was in full cry by then and telling her how hard it was to be there and how no one likes to talk about dead babies. A few minutes later she came down to my office and admitted that she was taken aback by my arrival back at work and didn’t know the right things to say. She sat with me and asked me questions about what happened and asked me questions about Abby. It was nice. It was awful and hard but nice to have her sit with me and care about me and cry with me.
I couldn’t do any of the emails or the discharges because my computer password had expired and the only people who could fix it couldn’t be bothered to call me back. So I organized file drawers instead. And cried. And then… my boss showed up. I was supposed to call her to check in, but she decided to arrive instead. This was not a gesture of support, but one of inspection. And, boy was I a sight to behold! I’m not going to say a lot more about work here… mostly out of fear of being stumbled upon… remember, I need my job to pay for fertility treatments and drugs! What did happen is that I grew a pair, and let her know how upset I was with the team about the lack of acknowledgement. This is when she told me that a card was signed by everyone but that that one co-worker told everyone that I did not want to speak to or see anyone and that I would not want this card. I firmly told her that this was absolutely incorrect, that I never said anything to that nature, and that all it did was left me feeling like nobody gave a damn. To put icing on the already damaged cake, the card was in my mailbox when I arrived home. With lovely comments and expressions of sympathy. All of these hurt feelings could have been avoided if they’d mailed the g-damn card!
That same co-worker sent me a text this morning welcoming me back and asking me how my first day went. Wow. So this is how it goes. I’m just supposed to forget about this huge act of insensitivity and forgive…. because you know, people make mistakes.
Well, you know what, I’m tired. I’m tired of having to deal with the stupid things that people say when you’re battling infertility and having to “forgive” them because it was “well-meaning”. Too many times, people’s “well-meaning” comments or actions have left me emotionally wrecked and full of anger. I’m tired of having to educate people on how to respond. I’m sorry that it’s uncomfortable for you that my baby died and you don’t know what to say. Poor you. My fucking condolences for your emotional ineptitude!
I know that as a society, we don’t really deal with death all that well. Kinda funny, since you know, WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!! And I know that people are afraid of saying the wrong things and making me more upset, but you know what, it is never okay to do nothing at all. It’s one thing that I’ve learned from all of this — say something, do something, send something. Don’t say “if there’s anything I can do…” — just do it. If you can think of a kind gesture, don’t worry about it upsetting someone, just do it. I appreciated all the people who sent me emails, texts, comments on here, but I never would have asked for anything from you. I was broken and defeated and it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other and keep trudging… I wasn’t going to ask for help and further admit how broken and defeated I was. And if all else fails, a simple “sorry for your loss” can’t hurt. Don’t compare your experiences to mine – unless you have lost a child or battled infertility, I’m sorry but it’s not the same. I’m not saying that we don’t all have suffering, that’s not at all what I mean. I went to the chiropractor a week after we lost Abby and I was a mess… a sobbing, agoraphobic mess. I couldn’t even go into the room without C. And the chiro, who I love, expressed his condolences but then went on to say how his son was just diagnosed with Tourettes and how it was ripping his soul apart to watch the poor child suffer. It was all I could do to hold it together and not offer to trade him lives.. because at least his son was alive.
I’m sorry if I’ve offended anyone. I’m just so tired of the fight when it feels like there may never be light at the end of the tunnel. I’m tired of feeling sad. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of pretending to be fine. I’m tired of watching life go by without me.