I don't tell this story often...

I emailed with a good friend of mine today. She brought some things to the front of my mind that I hadn't thought about in a long time. There's a lot of TMI type stuff here and I understand if you want to surf right on past...

(Added note: I realized, after a friend IM'd me, how sad this sounded. I'm not sad today. I'm not sad about my journey. Please, don't feel bad for me. I thought a friend of a friend could use what I've been through, to know she is not alone. I hope they both can draw some strength, some hope, and, as much as I hated it said to me...some faith.)

February 1, 2003. The same day of the Space Shuttle Columbia disaster (should have been a clue as to how this was going to go), Jeremy and I had spent the weekend in Manistee and I was due to start my next cycle of birth control. I walked out of the bathroom with the case and said, "Well? Do I start this? Or no?". He said "No, let's have a baby."

We did everything the way you're supposed to. We charted, tracked, stood on our heads, and carried test tubes of tadpoles to the lab for counting. It still didn't happen. I have been poked, given up blood and had rooms full of people looking up my crotch. For what? There were no answers. Still aren't.

My mom, who has 6 children kept telling me to be patient. She said "All your Dad had to do was hang his pants on the post and I was pregnant!" Thanks, Mom...nice image. My sisters, all three of them have 2 kids, kept telling me - oh, it'll happen. I know they all meant well and I love them for trying. You know, if you have given birth to a child...I'm sorry if this sounds mean but, you have no effing clue how I feel. You don't know what it's like to scream at your husband that he doesn't care about this as much as you do and watch him punch the door in his frustration with you. I tried to convince my husband that he couldn't love me because I couldn't give him a child. I kept telling him to find another wife. I'd let him have a divorce. I'd let him have half. I deserved to be alone and he didn't deserve me. Worst of all, was seeing the disappointment in his eyes every month, after month, after month. I finally stopped telling him when I'd get my period and I cried, sitting there on the toilet - alone. I just sat there punishing myself for failing, again.

In February 2005. I was so tired and sick. I hurt everywhere. I knew. I knew I was finally pregnant. I felt miserable for about 2 weeks. I woke up one morning with a whoosh of my insides emptying - almost like I had peed in my bed. I went into the bathroom and I knew it was gone. I saw it. A little red balloon, about the size of my pinky nail, there in the toilet. Hopes, dreams, faith, and wishes all gone with a simple flush. My then friend B had her baby a few days later. I couldn't go to the hospital to see them. I couldn't go to the house when they came home. No babies. Keep them away from me. (I like them now - very much - not enough to have another but, that's a different post!). Thankfully, I was the only one who knew I was pregnant. I didn't tell anyone else. Maybe I knew there was something wrong.

And the people who kept telling me to "have faith". I threw faith out the damn window after the first year and I wanted to throw them with it! Faith. You want me, to have faith, in a God, who gives children, to parents who murder them, beat them, rape them and whatever else. And he won't give one to me. Faith. Thanks, I hadn't thought of having faith.

The people. The people who try so hard to make you feel better and make you just want to slap 'em. I know I am guilty of this myself. I also know that I would have been angry had these people said nothing just as much as I hated what they did say. Lose/Lose situation. You know what's worse though...the people who are pregnant that insist on sharing every detail with you. But you know what's even worse than that...the new Grandma to be! I know you're excited lady, and I don't don't give a shit. I could say things to you, right now that would make a sailor blush -so maybe, just maybe you'd feel as bad as I do. Some days those things were easier to hold back than others.

It's been 5 years.

Many more miscarriages have come and gone. So many, that I don't count anymore. The doctor says to bring them in. I can't bring myself to do it. I don't look at them anymore, I can tell when it happens and I keep them to myself. Call it what you want. We have no answers. We don't have a diagnosis. We don't care. My relationship with Jeremy has grown but, I still don't tell him when we lose a "would be" child. I don't need to. It doesn't matter.

I have a beautiful son. If this infertility journey is what I had to endure to adopt my son...I'd do it a thousand times over. Does it mean my pain is gone? Some people chastise me when I tell them it's not. Does it mean I don't long to carry my biological child? Not at all. I would love nothing more. It means I had to put my pain away. It means Jeremy and I promised never to discuss this - in our home - in front of our child. Jacob is my everything. He's my life. He's the reason I can keep it together. He's the reason I keep going. He deserves the best that I have to give. That's why she gave him to us.

I do have faith...now. I look back and I know that this is where I'm supposed to be. This is where my road was taking me. I still don't know what's ahead but I trust it better. I know what it's like to have a child and not be able to have a child. I know what it's like to lose a child - a nameless, faceless child but, in my mind, a much wanted child. I have hated other women for having what I wanted most. It still hurts. Sometimes. I am very lucky. I am very blessed. That's the part I try to hang on to.