Left Field

Sometimes it comes out of left field. Most of the time it comes out of left field. Sure, I know what some of my triggers are and I can navigate them because they are expected. New babies. Pregnant coworkers. Uber-fertile friends. I know that I can expect something to be painful and therefore I can at least contain my emotions.

And then something smacks you in the face. Sometimes it’s not even anything big. Today it was a lesbian mom’s board I post to. There’s a newly pregnant couple, pregnant after their 15th cycle and it was an IUI cycle with injectibles. The pregnancy announcement made me very happy for them, and they are one of a handful of newly pregnant couples on the board. But today. Today they revealed it’s triplets. Three little heartbeats at their first ultrasound.

And I just hung my head and cried. Three. Of course. Three heartbeats that I never got to hear. Three faces I’ll never get to see. Three that turned to two that turned to heartbreak.

As I sit and write this I’m very consciously aware of my right foot, the one with the tattoo for those three I had to say goodbye to. I know they are with me. And I only wish they could have stayed. I’d have been 27 weeks tomorrow.

It’s not the first thing on my mind every day, but I do think about them at least once a day, and every once in awhile something happens that takes my breath away and forces me to remember myself as someone who has lost.

I feel sometimes like an imposter, having two children to hold and snuggle and love. Everyone likes to say “be grateful for the ones you have.” And I am. More than grateful. Blessed. Joyful. They aren’t mutually exclusive. I can be grateful and sad. I can be blessed and heartbroken. I can be joyful and in pain. I can still wonder what it would be like to be big and pregnant enjoying the holidays watching my children get excited to welcome siblings into their lives.

I know after the first of the year my sister-in-law will likely be announcing that she’s pregnant. Grandma and Grandpa’s birthdays will come, and they always have special meaning to me in relation to the kids, and then my nephew’s birthday – my due date.

So it’s Christmas. And it’s hard. And I hope that Christmas Eve is a clear night so that I can look up at the sky and see them.

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9 thoughts on “Left Field

  1. Sooo hard when you see someone else with what you had. The ache is sharper than should be allowed. And counting up to where we would be now…Today would have been 31 weeks for me. I feel so far away from that person, and yet…she was me. Briefly. And I was supposed to be her. Holding you in my heart in the face of this difficult news and a holiday that should have looked different for us both.

  2. I love you, my friend. Be sad. It’s okay. Know that I am here for you…any time. By the way, let’s set up a Skype date soon. I miss your face. 🙂

  3. I love you and it is hard to see what goes on around us and wonder what if? I guess sometimes life is full of what if’s and they are never easy! I love you!!

  4. I’m so sorry. I know how you feel. I would be 37 weeks this week. And just got our final BFN from our final IVF. I feel guilty dwelling on those things when I have the most amazing little guy to hug, but we can’t help how we feel. We can’t help but want more.

    Big Fat Hugs.

  5. know that you are loved and it is okay to feel the way you’re feeling.
    giving you a huge hug right now. and probably bringing along some ice cream too.
    ❤ you. miss you. and we need to figure out coffee or something stronger.
    Hugs.
    a.

  6. Oh how the holidays can magnify all this too. It is heartbreaking enough as it is, but when you have the joy and pain at the same time it adds confusion. It seems like which ever feeling you are experiencing at the moment feels like the wrong one: “how can I be happy/sad when I (don’t) have this”.

    I wish I hadn’t fallen so woefully behind during the holidays. I wish I had been here to hold you up from this end.

    I hope you had that starry sky. If I recall, you might have had rain. I know you feel them in your heart, but there is nothing like the ritual you described. It is beautiful and I will make it my own now too.

  7. Pingback: Wish Right Now | Where Love and Chaos Reign

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