The Eagles lost!!!
I need a moment…
My Dad and I have been avid life-long Eagles fans. Each year when they stumble into the playoffs, we get our hopes up. And then they lose a critical game. Our hopes are dashed, and we begin our travel through the stages of grief:
It’s not even 24 hours since that god-awful game, and I’m already through to acceptance.
That was fast. Well, there’s always next year, right?
So as I am thinking about this thought, it occurs to me that infertility and loss exists (ironically) on the same continuum.
With my five losses over the last 4 years, I progressed to acceptance (for the losses), albeit at very different speeds. It won’t surprise you that each consecutive loss has gotten progressively harder, and more difficult to work through. But ultimately, I accept it and move on.
It is the state of infertility that is the problem. The loss of my reproductive ability, although stretched out over time, is still a “loss”, but have I gotten through to the “acceptance” part of it?
And, just for emphasis…
So, where am I? On this scale of healing?
For a long time, I was stuck on step two, Anger. Angry that I was broken. Angry at myself for not having babies in my 20’s. Angry that the RE wasn’t aggressive enough. Angry at every pregnant woman who walked the earth.
I think I sailed right through Bargaining into Depression.
And depression is where I stay. Maybe not pure depression (I am still hopeful), but surely the “woe is me” kind of depression scattered throughout the sunny days when things are looking up.
And, for my readers who have walked in each other’s infertility shoes, most of us languish in the depression stage. For some of us, who never complete their families, there is only two endings to this road:
Receive the child(ren) you worked so hard for.
Accept that you won’t and move on to better things.
And there ends the five stages of grief. Sounds simple, but so not simple.
Truth be told, I am drawing ever closer to acceptance. Abandoning my old eggs was a huge step for me. Can I tell you how freeing it is to stop charting when I’m not cycling? To end the “evening obligation” on Days 10-17 because “I might ovulate today, no tomorrow, oh hell, let’s just do it again today to make sure”???
It feels wonderful to escape the pressure, for good.
With this impending DE cycle, it gives me the opportunity to finally step off of the hamster wheel at the end.
A one-way ticket to the land of acceptance. Which, from what I can imagine, can’t be THAT bad of a place. Freedom is never a bad thing.
In the meantime, I reside, with many of you in the waiting place. For those of you who made it out the other side, I salute you. For those still here, my wish for all of us is to get to the last step. Hopefully, with minimal bruising and a lot of loving care. I promise to hold your hand to the other side, if you’ll hold mine.
I think Dr. Seuss said it best. To finally escape:
You can get so confused
that you’ll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place…
…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.
That’s not for you!
Somehow you’ll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You’ll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.
With banner flip-flapping,
once more you’ll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky.
Ready because you’re that kind of a guy!
Who knew Dr. Seuss was applicable in the infertility world?