Rough Times

Our grief is not going well this time.

When we lost Elizabeth, we had so much support. We had light at the end of the tunnel. We were horribly sad and struggled but knew that one day, it wouldn't be quite as bad.

This time is different. This time the support isn't there. The understanding isn't there. No one really "gets" what we're going through. There's no light at the end of the tunnel. There's no magic fix. To pursue more children that will help us feel more complete, we'll be financially struggling for years. No one grieves this baby we tried months for, fought in the hospital for, and lost. Elizabeth was understandable, but this one is not.

Logically, I can reason through our situation. I can try and separate myself from my emotions and tell my brain that at least we have two kids. Two kids we can give an even better life to if we don't have more. I can reason through how we were so lucky to have just them. I can see our situation from other points of view.

But my heart cries. My heart screams that this isn't fair. Yes we're lucky we had two after I had cancer, but having cancer is the first place wasn't lucky. It wasn't fair. I don't see any cancer survivors telling me to just feel lucky - only those who never been through it. I feel incomplete. I feel like the there's this child who's been waiting to come into our family, and now the links to that child has been severed. It doesn't mean that child went away. It doesn't mean that child is no longer biological. It doesn't mean that child is no longer there waiting. It definitely doesn't mean that we no longer want it.

Saying I'm lucky when I'm in such mourning is like a slap in the face. I've been through hell and back multiple times. My life has been a series of difficult, heartwrenching situations over and over again when most people don't even go through one of those situations. I've been through tumors, cancer, surgeries, possible infertility, miscarriages, ectopic, more surgeries, and now absolute infertility. Lucky? Shut up, I don't want to hear it. On most days, days before this happened and hopefully one day in the future, I'll agree. I'll say that while I've been given such a rough hand, I've been lucky to have lived through it all and had none of it kill me. But not right now. Right now I'm hurt. I'm broken on the inside.

I don't want to say I'm lucky, because I feel the opposite. Lucky are those people who don't have to give half of their children back. Lucky are those who get to choose their family size. Lucky are those who don't know half of the hospital staff in one department and know who the best and worst are. Lucky are those who don't ever hear the word cancer come from their doctor's mouth or who don't have the pictures of the ceiling of CT machines memorized. Lucky are those who don't have panic attacks in the middle of the night about some tiny problem that they fear is the end as ice cold fear runs through their veins. Lucky are those who's bellies are not littered in scars every one inch to remind them of what's been taken from them.

Too many want to minimize my situation to make it more comfortable and less sad. But I have been through every step of this, and I'm allowed to go through heavy grief. I'm allowed to be angry and refuse to say I'm lucky sometimes. I'm allowed to go against what every other person wants me to believe, because they haven't been through any of this themselves.

Nothing has ever completely broken me before. I think this might have. I know one day I'll get back up and learn how to rebuild. But right now, I'm broken. I think after everything I've survived through, I'm allowed to be broken. It's not that I want to be...it's that I don't feel like I have the strength to pretend that I'm not. I don't have enough in me to hold up a facade for other's comfort. I don't want to have added pressure to act a certain way, or be a certain way. Just allow me to be in my broken state and allow me some time. Don't pressure me into making this easier on people around me. I already have to put on a show of "happy mommy" for my kids each day. Don't make it worse by pushing me to be whole and happy again. It'll happen on it's own..one day.

 You can't force healing.