It’s Rant Time: Everything I Hate
I don’t often go here, both in my writing and in my day to day life. I try to stay far, far away from these feelings, but I’m jumping in head first for the next few moments.
I never hate, and yet today, I am full of hate for our hurt. I feel frustration. I feel desperate for a solution or even just an answer. I feel so desperate right now.
I am so freaking sick of all the bullshit that anyone facing infertility has to deal with.
I am sick of hearing about bad beta’s. I’m sick of seeing beta updates and knowing exactly what the end result will be. I hate that I now have enough experience that I can predict others miscarriage based purely on blood tests. I hate that any time someone has posted early beta tests, I can predict the outcome and so far I’ve been dead on (sorry about the pun).
I hate that instead of waking up at 3am to the sounds of a crying child, or playing games or changing diapers, or watching Frozen for the 900th time, I have five lost babies. I have 5 glimmers of life that are now nothing but a memory.
I hate that I am sitting here writing about miscarriage and recurrent pregnancy loss. I hate that instead I spend time watching my WordPress stats, because I have too much time to care about them.
I hate that this is what I’ve been dealt.
I hate that I know so much about miscarriages, that I could (and quite possibly will) write a novel on it. I hate that I am the first person my friend called when she found out her baby no longer has a heartbeat. While I’m thrilled that she had someone other than Dr. Google to turn to – I never have. I hate that no-one other than a paid counselor and doctors have been there for us. And I hate that I now get to be that person. I hate that I can provide the personal experience of each type of miscarriage possible.
I hate that we are trying again because I hate living in the pregnancy bubble. I hate that I now have to watch my diet (i.e. caffeine, sandwich meat, sushi, alcohol, etc.) just in case. I hate that I’m back to watching my cycle to figure out if I’m pregnant or not. I hate that I now know the acronym TWW, and that I too hate it just as much as every other infertile women. I hate that in the time we’ve been trying we’ve had friends have their first child and there second is on the way.
I hate that I’m not working so that we can try again for a healthy pregnancy. I hate that I am trying to turn writing into a legitimate option because it makes me feel like I’m still doing something. I hate that even with the best medical advice to remove stress, I still want to work. I hate that I feel pulled to be working when I know why I’m not and the goal of a family means more than working. But, still, I’m pulled to work.
I hate that my life plan is shot to shit. I hate that I have no idea what tomorrow is going to bring.
I hate then when I hear of another pregnant friend that I cannot just jump for joy and be so excited for them. I hate that I have this dark sense of envy and jealousy.
I hate that we many never have children. I hate that we are now considering adoption because I hate feeling like we could lose family members at the expense of adopting a child because they wont be able to accept this. I hate that couples are forced to choose childfree lives because that’s the best of the worst options.
I hate that I’ve lost one of my best friends to our struggles. I hate that for whatever reason she decided never to call me again once I told her about our first 3 miscarriages. I hate that she never called. I hate that people can be that selfish. I hate that I have no-one outside of my husband and my psychologist who really get it.
I hate that my husband is stuck in this with me. I hate we cannot make this work. I hate that he has to suffer through this. I hate that he has to be the rock. I hate that he has to deal with my emotional rollercoster.
I hate scheduled procreation sex! I really hate scheduled sex, maybe more than anything else!
I hate that I cannot call my mom and talk to her. I hate that my sister is gone and I cannot have her shoulder to cry on. I hate feeling lonely, and right now I feel lonely.
But, more than anything, I hate that my personality doesn’t just let me stop and wallow in my self-pity. I hate that because I’m me, I cannot just stop and take it in for what it is. Instead, I also hate that other people are going through this. I hate that anyone has to experience the pain of desperately wanting a child and not getting one. I hate that people lose their children to unexplained miscarriages. I hate that couples are unable to get pregnant. I hate that we live in 1 month intervals at best, but really it’s more like 2 week intervals. I hate that mothers live without their children. I hate that fathers live without their children.
As much as I’m feeling this way, I know I have to do more with this emotion. My desperate desire to help others means that I know that I have to turn my frustration into something more. I need to find a way to make this a worthwhile experience. I know that I need to make a difference for others experiencing RPL and miscarriage. I know my experience can help others, and therefore I must continue to share our story. I must try to make something out of this experience. I know I can. I just have to.
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