Without knowing what was going on, when I stopped calling as much, you chose not to ask, is something bothering you? You chose not to ask, I haven’t heard from you in a few weeks, is everything okay? You chose not to call.
I eventually chose to tell you, one of my absolute closest friends, about our personal struggles. I chose to tell you about our three lost babies.
You chose to ask questions to try to figure out the timeline and how it related to your own. You chose to obsess over details about if I was drinking alcoholic drinks or not last time I saw you, to try to figure out if we were trying again. You chose to blame me for not calling you, and chose not to take any responsibility for your decision not to contact me. You chose to obsess over the fact that I had not included you throughout the process, and ignored the fact that we did not tell anyone until we were ready. You chose not to respond with something supportive, instead you chose to respond with “now that I know about this, you have no reason not to spend more time with me and my infant son”. Nearly a year later, you have clearly chosen not to call, text or email me again.
Your choices hurt me deeply.
But I also made choices throughout this. I, with my husband, chose not to tell anyone about our first two miscarriages, including you. I chose to take care of myself and my husband, during our hard struggles. I chose my own health and my own coping strategies. I chose when to tell you because I needed a friend. I chose you to be one of the few friends I’d turn to. I chose you because I thought you would be there for me.
Then, to my surprise, you chose not to contact me again. And I intern chose the same. The reason for my choice was simple. My choice was based on surrounding myself with positive influences. I chose friendship without strings. I chose unconditional support and love from true friends. I chose reciprocal friendships. Your choices, resulted in my choice that you no longer fit into my definition of friend.
For a long time, I chose to be mad at you. I chose to let your actions hurt me.
But now, I choose to make peace with our individual choices, which have conspired together to end our friendship. I now choose to say good-bye without regret. I now choose to wish you and your family health, happiness and the absolute best with your life, even though I will not be part of it.
I started this blog as an outlet to discuss our recurrent pregnancy loss experiences. During our fourth loss, I was looking for a new way to cope. Something that would help me through a really hard time. And, I thought, hey, maybe I can help someone else going through this since only 1% of couples will experience recurrent pregnancy loss (defined as 3 consecutive miscarriages). So, by putting my story out there, maybe another person in that 1% will feel a little less alone.
However, after writing for about a month, I’ve decided that I don’t want to focus on just one element of my life. Yes, it is an important element, it’s currently on my mind a lot, but it is not the sole focus on my life. This experience and whatever our version of family becomes during the next few years, will most definitely influence my life, but I refuse to let recurrent pregnancy loss define my entire life.
And, I have so much more to say on a whole lot more topics.
So, what am I going to write about? In addition to our recurrent pregnancy loss journey, I suspect I might write about things like the sudden death of my mom and sister when I was a 14 years old, our dog (yes, I am a crazy dog lady), our insane extended family, my amazing husband (I may be biased, but I think he’s pretty great), my career, an interesting book I read, our travels, or my desire to do everything perfectly all the time (yes, on some level, I realize this is impossible, but I try anyways and I’ve been rather successful at it for a really long time).
I figure the options are limitless, so I’m not going to constrain myself to one topic.
Please feel free to follow along through this window into my life.
My Perfect Breakdown 