Friday, July 10, 2009


Let me start by explaining how close our house is to our neighbor's house, it's maybe 3-5 feet away. It's windows on the side facing our house are exactly parallel to ours. We have to keep the shades drawn indefinitely for privacy's sake.

The house next door is a rental property. It gets a new resident every three to six months. They all move in, and out, under the cover of darkness. I shit you not, one day the house has people in it, the next it's empty. One day it's empty, and the next there are different people in it. It's nuts, a regular three ring circus. And it's always full of crazy people.

Our current neighbors are pretty young. There are like two different families living there. They have a dog, or two, that they leave tied up in their backyard by the fence. Every time we go into our backyard, for anything at all, they start barking at us. It's a bit annoying, but I do feel really sorry for the dog(s).

They apparently also have a baby, or two, or something. I have never seen these babies. But, I hear them crying during the day, and at night. And there was mention of them once, one of the females next door came over once for a flashlight. Their breaker needed checked because their power went out, and she was sobbing up a storm because there was no power and they had babies over there, and she was alone and freaking out and just could not cope. My husband went over and helped her with the breaker, but even he did not see these babies.

But, we know that they're there. They cry, or it cries- and it's like a ghost. The sound comes through our walls, even with the windows shut. I can be perfectly content with A- watching television, but then I go upstairs to use the bathroom, and I walk by the open hall window, and I hear it. And it hits me, and I walk more slowly. My pace stops, and I pause. But only for a moment; and then I keep going.


Last month I was in my poetry class, and we were listening to poems and writing down phrases we liked. We then were given a name sticker, one of those "I am ___" ones. We had to take a phrase, and claim our true name. And so, I became, "I am Alive Enough for Now."


Everywhere I love to go, I am afraid to look up as I go. I see people toteing around there beautiful children, I hear them scold, I hear them love, I see them reprimand, and I see them hug. And I pause. I feel my heart swell up into my throat, then sink. Sometimes it's like a vice is on my chest, an invisible hand reaching in and stilling my bleeding heart. Some days, I feel hallow. There's no pain, there's no joy- I'm sleep walking again. I am haunted by nursery rhymes, and strollers. I feel detached, watching the world around me but not being a part of it. Sometimes I wonder if the world can see it; can it see the agony within, that I am incomplete and walking amongst them; no longer simply haunted now, but a ghost myself.

I've seen so much in my life, been through so much. I know that this itself is not the end of the world. I know I should be thankful for what I have, and just be happy; and I am happy. But it's not enough.

This break from trying to concieve, it will be a good thing. Of this I am sure. But, just because I am on a break, it doesn't mean I can turn the pain off. I am still haunted by an unattainable dream, I am still reminded every day of what the past 27 months have done to me, and what the future looks like. I still have a long road ahead of me- whether it be that one last cycle, or adoption.

Here's to not trying, but not preventing. (C'mon, you know I don't ovulate, even pumped full of drugs. If I had a post-injectable cycle ovualtion, it would be a miracle. And I don't hold my breath for those.)


Kristin said...

Oh wow...I think this is one of the most powerful pieces you have ever written. It captures the heartbreak of infertility perfectly.


Celia said...

I hear you on science trumping miracles.

Boo, it will happen for you. Somehow.

Shelby said...

I agree with Kristin. This is a beautiful. You perfectly captured the heartache and longing. I'm always wondering how I could possibly explain it to someone who has never experienced IF and I'm thinking that this post would do a lovely job.

Breaks, although many times necessary to regroup, are sometimes harder than being in the middle of treatment in my opinion. I've had to take many in the past several years and without that feeling of forward momentum (or at least the illusion of forward momentum), I tended to feel even less out of control. But looking back, I needed that time. I hope it treats you well and that when you return to your next move, that you'll find yourself more than ready.

iamstacey said...

I'm so sorry for all you're going through. Your post just broke my heart. {{hugs}}

Michelle said...

I am so sorry. I am sure the break will be good but you are definitely right it does not make the pain less it just makes the obsession less. ((HUGS))

Guera! said...

I can relate. Hugs to you.

Michele said...

Sometimes I cry when I hear babies crying and "parents" not parenting. I sometimes pray that parents who have no idea of the gift they have will just, for a moment if that is all they can have, realize it. Realize that sacred, special child for the gift he or she is, and how so many of us struggle and struggle and struggle... And never seem to break even.

Cara said...

How heartbreaking it must be to be accosted without a moment's notice. Here's to not preventing, whatever that really means.