No, I’m not confused about the date, nor is that a typo. That was the last time I was happy. Content.
We spend NYE with a couple of friends and their older age kids playing board games. It was so simple and so much fun. Their boys are so hilarious and easy to be around. I distinctly remember sitting back on their comfy couch, hands on my belly and thinking: everything is right with the world. Everything is okay and I am content. I am truly content and whole. I was 13 blissful weeks pregnant and naively believing we were in the clear. Only 1% of women miscarry after 12 weeks.
Little did I know that in a few short hours, my world would begin to turn upside down. January 1st, 2012 — the beginning of the end.
This year has been the worst year of my life. Not just losing Abby, but it just seemed like the whole year went to shit. Losing Abby, the bullshit treatment I got from work, the bullshit treatment I got from the new clinic, the unbelievable behaviour from C’s family, the failed IVF, dad needing surgery for colon cancer after surviving lung cancer… it seemed like nothing good happened this year. It was like we were constantly waiting for the next ball of shit to be hurled at us.
I feel like I’ve been in a haze for the last year. Going through the motions. Truly. It’s been exhausting. Existing through this sadness is a lot of effort — and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t played out a scenario from time to time where I didn’t have to exist anymore.
But here I am.
I’ve been absent for nearly 3 months because, quite frankly, I’m not sure what has become of this space. And it would appear that I’m not alone. It seems like so many have moved on, got their happy ending. But more than that, I feel like people check in to see what kind of shit show has happened now. I feel like people read along and think “wow, that sucks. so glad it’s not my life”. But it is my life. And I’m tired of being the infertile freakshow that makes others thankful for their good fortune.
I went out for lunch recently with a friend who told about some sad things that were happening in her life and I felt relieved because at least someone else’s life wasn’t perfect. Schadenfreude. Not really, because I wouldn’t say I felt pleasure. But just relief. We live in a world of social media where people post the good and the happy to their Face.book pages. They post all things that make them appear like their life is perfect. And quite frankly, it makes me a little wrist-slitty.
Anyways, I’m rambling and I’ll blame that on the wine. If I can’ t be pregnant, I might as well be drunk… or at least a little head swimmy.
I used to be someone who wrote two blogs. One about infertility and one about stuff. Crafty stuff, funny stuff, just stuff. Last year, I posted on my other blog about my “word” for the year. Stupid, optimistic, naive self. Her word for 2012 was grateful. Grateful. I was so grateful for finally being pregnant. For finally being a mom.
Instead, I reflect on the year and what I am grateful for is not at all what I started out being grateful for. My wonderful, awesome, profoundly flawed husband who is the soul mate to my bossy, bitchy, crazy and profoundly flawed self. My amazing friends who have been my lifeline — through laughter and tears and sushi and scrapping and weekends away and Saturdays of play and helping me to feel grounded and to know that sometimes life just deals you a really fucking shitty hand and that’s it’s okay and somehow, someway, you’ll keep going because really, what other fucking choice do you have?!
This year, my word is strength.
Strength to keep going. Strength to bring my babies home. Strength to be the woman that lies dormant within me.
Fuck you, 2012. Fuck you.