Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Tidal Wave

I have been pulled under by the tide of a giant tidal wave.
I am slammed against the bottom of the ocean floor, and the wind is knocked out of me.
I do not know which way is up.
I am tired and start to panic.
The terrorizing thought that this may be it fills my body with pain.
It is a nightmare.
I want to wake up, because, right now, I don't have the strength to swim.

To others, this may sound dramatic or self-piteous.
I assure you, it is.
You see, just for today, the optimism 'pot' runneth dry.
I guess it has runneth over for some time now...or maybe that was the wishful thinking pot???

But for me, a person who spends most of her time telling others that life is beautiful and worth living, I, today, am needing to release these feelings somewhere. Anywhere. Here.

I have not left my kitchen all morning. Reading about others who know how I feel, and those who have moved on, allows me to feel what is really going on inside. You guys (even dear R. who has just bought a front row seat to our show, and has had her own hardship in her own life) understand how truly daunting the idea that the most primal instinct to procreate may be being denied is.

Yesterday, when I heard the news, I had a moment where I doubted Gods existed. Where I shouted out that familiar old idea, that there couldn't possibly be a God who is this cruel. I swore that this would be the end of my believing, praying, hoping, dreaming, optimism...

What I was really saying was that I want the pain to end. I want a break from the heartache and disappointment. I want to hear a yes, instead of always hearing a no.

The swearing doesn't last long. I know those old ideas are not reality for I was given that Knowledge, many years ago as I lay on the maternity ward for two weeks following our first ectopic pregnancy that almost killed me, that this was not God punishing me. That this problem was scientific. His Grace carried me through that time, as I heard the calls, over the intercom, for the new mothers to come for the breastfeeding classes, while I lay, empty-wombed...I would never have survived that time if I believed that somehow they were 'blessed' and I was being punished.
I was given that same reassurance as I lost my best friend (age 24), father (at age 53) and stepmother (age 52) of cancer. It was not that God had "thought it was their time to leave the planet"- that is an old idea. It was scientific. A problem in the human realm, not the spiritual.

All of that said, G & I are so grateful to have met someone so moved by our plight that they would actually jump in with us to try and help. We will always be grateful for R and want her to know that.

The pain I feel is just the time ticking, the life altering pain that we, as a couple, are experiencing and the utter disbelief that we are still here. We both feel like fish out of water. That something drastic needs to change, and that this sadness must give way soon or it will kill us.

We have aged. G looks different now, so do I. This has stolen something from us. We have been overwhelmed and are 'hitting the mat' and both shouting "I Give"!!!!!!

The lesson cannot be that Life is Unfair. I got that one long ago (like many of you). The lesson cannot be patience, I think we have proven that we have that. The lesson can't be perseverance, humility or keeping faith. You can't move onto surrogacy without possessing those three attributes to some degree.

Is the lesson that we are not meant to be parents?
I don't know if that is a lesson I am prepared to learn, thanks...



  1. I wish I had the magic words and a magic wand while I'm at it. It's ok to grieve, to be angry, to give up, for a bit-tomorrow's another day with new things to learn.

  2. I wish I could help. I'm right there with you on so much of this. I do know this: you are most definitely meant to be a parent. I wish I could say how or when but I know you will be a parent. People say that to me all the time and it sort of annoys me, but at the core, I know it is true. So I'm not trying to be trite, I just want you to know that the lesson you are wondering about, that is not it either. Sometimes I don't think there's a lesson. Sometimes things just are. And they suck.

    I'm thinking of you and wishing I could help you.

  3. I wish I had the answers that you are searching for. I wish I could tell you what the lesson is or if there is one. All I know is that this whole process is horrible. It sucks.

    I cannot imagine what you are going through, but as your kind words are helping me, know that I am here for you. Through the really tough days and I will be there when you do find out that y'all will be parents.

    With all that you are going through, thanks for your comment and helping me.

    I will be thinking of all of you and you will be in my prayers.


  4. What a beautiful and heartbreaking post. I am so sorry for the pain you & G are in right now. I wish I had answers for why this is happening or what the "lesson" in it all is...
    Wishing you time to heal, peace in your heart and soul, & wisdom to know the path...
    HUGS, thoughts and prayers.

  5. I don't know what to say because nothing will make it better right now. The pain is so fresh and so new and I remember feeling, so many times through this journey called IF, totally ripped wide open and exposed. I'm so sorry...and I hope you find some healing. Somehow, the way will make itself known to us.

  6. Oh my gosh. I just have nothing. I am so sorry. Wish I could say more, wish I could make this go away for you, wish I had the answers.


  7. I don't think your description sounds too dramatic at all......just painfully accurate.

    I so wish we were celebrating here today. I got chills when I first read your post yesterday because I really couldn't believe it to be true.

    I do believe you were meant to be a mother, just as all of us who desire it so much are meant to. Our babies may be harder to find, but we will find them........

    You wrote about the "lessons" like it was coming straight from my head. I have cycled through all those kinds of things too, just wanting to scream "I get it, okay!?!"

    I wish there was something I could say or do to make it better. I'm right beside you and always ready to listen.

  8. I too get that, and at what point do you think, it's us, we would be crap parents, or even worse, it's me, I would be a bad mother, and I should just let him find someone and move on with his life, I know that Mr. Duck doesn't want that, but, we can't help it, it's normal to think about all of this.
    I wished so hard for you and for happiness.
    Know that it's okay to be sad and to question the world, how can we grow if we don't question?

  9. Wow. This post is amazingly real. I know all of those emotions you speak of. I have them too, on my bad days. Especially the 'maybe I'm not supposed to be a Mom' one, that one really gets to me. I know I would be a great mom, so why isn't it happening?

    I'm sorry you are having one of those days. They just suck. There's nothing else to it. It's not fair and outsiders don't understand. Infertility is all-consuming. Time is flying by while hoping for that one thing and before you know it (in our case) 6 1/2 years are gone and we have done nothing.

  10. The lessson is definately not that you are not meant to be parents. This is scientific, there is no lesson, it's just shit in a bottle.

    You are meant to be parents, all humans are, you just have to find your way because not all humans become parents the same way.

    I'm sorry this can't be easy for you, I'm sorry for all the pain and the frustration you must go through on your quest to parenthood...hold strong, it will happen.

    You are not alone, when and how you will be parents is still a mystery for now, but keep fighting, it will happen and you will be the best parents out there!

  11. Your post makes me sad. It reads so full of heartache and heartbreak. Please know that you are NOT alone. I'm here for you however you need me.

  12. This is a very sad, very beautifully written post. I can relate to the anguish of wanting to be a parent, to fulfill that biological right. I am so very sorry for your loss.
    When I had cancer, my husband was told that I had stepped forward so that someone else would not have to. I don't know how I feel about this spiritual explanation, but find it interesting.
    What I do know is that you will become a parent, and that you will make a spectacular, wonderful mother. The road may be windier and bumpier, but it will happen.

  13. I think the lesson is that's there is no lesson. Sometime there is no lesson. There is just hurt, and pain, and lack of reason. Trying to find meaning in everything will somehow end in blame, and that's not fair to you.
    I remember those years we spent trying to have a baby. That pain. I compare it to what I am going through now, and I have to say it was worse. I feel more in control right now heading towards a lung transplant that I did heading towards IVF and surregacy. To those that have not experienced it, it is a terrible thing to cope with.
    I don't know what will happen, but I do know that you are handling it with grace.

  14. I am just catching up and I am so so sorry to read your news. Glad you've pulled out from under the tidal wave. You're in my thoughts.


  15. Today I've been in a dark place and I've also been reading other blogs not having moved from my spot on the couch seeking comfort from other stories. Thanks for sharing your story. It's a tough journey, and I too feel angry with God. The pain is exhausting because it feels never ending.