At this time last year, an embryo was created. It was unexpected, despite fertility treatments. It was wanted, loved, and held our hopes and dreams. It was supposed to be a welcome to the new year, a sign of things to come, a birthday wish come true.
But that embryo was not destined to survive.
I miss her.
And missing her brings memories of pain, of anguish, of despair.
And missing her reminds me that we are no closer to our desires.
She's not here, and we're still here. Alone.
What is it about the second one that was so much worse than all the rest-
Yes, I now believe it was the worse one.
I believe that the first one, as shattering as it was, is bearable now. Is it because of time, because of acceptance, is it because of knowing that, as awful as what everyone told me the first time, I now know just how much worse it can get. Three years, three miscarriages, and the horror of unstoppable contractions coupled with that beautiful and damning gestational sac. My first one was still awful, but from where I sit today... I wish I could go back to that, and have so very few things to mourn in comparison.
Does that make me awful, that a part of me wishes their non-existence, those embryos that should have been my children? I go back and forth on this- glad to have had the chance, and cursing the very chance I had tried so hard for. I ask myself- if I had known how this would end, would I have still tried? Could I have still laughed on my birthday last year, on the eve of her conception? If I knew then, what I know now, about how many weeks of agony it would be, and the pain it would bring me- can I still say I would even have been able to smile? If it hadn't happened, if the pregnancy had never existed, would that make this any easier?
I don't expect many people in this life to understand- it was an embryo. It wasn't chubby cheeked and wide eyed, with downy hair and soft skin- except in my mind, and in my heart. To almost everyone else, it was just a gestational sac, if even that. It was empty. Like my heart is now. Like my life is.
There are some women I see in the forums, and they say things like how they wish they could at least get pregnant, even if it ended in a miscarriage. Their logic is that by doing this, they would at least know that they can get pregnant.
I shudder at the very thought. For me, I still don't know if I can get pregnant. I've been pregnant three times, and each time took effort and it's own trials to get me there. I am infertile. I do not ovulate. Having been pregnant doesn't make me any less infertile.
And, because of those pregnancies I now know that if I do ever get pregnant again, it only means I can miscarry again. I can lose, I can suffer. I can go through physical pain, and emotional agony. I can lose every last ounce of dignity, every last bit of hope, and I can watch every dream I'd ever had die.
Yes, part of me wishes that none of that had never happened. Part of me would rather have been completely barren for the last three years. I would rather agonize over not ovulating, than lost loves.
And isn't that really the crux of it though? I love them. I love them so much, I put every fiber of my being into creating them. I did everything, everything, I could have done to keep them. If love was enough to keep them alive, there is no doubt in my heart that they'd still be here. I would have two babies, and one on the way. If I wish away their existence, I deny both my love and my pain.
So, in the whirl of day- I sigh and go on my way. I keep loving each of them silently, and mourning them with every breath. As much as I wish I could will away all this suffering, I can't- because I love them, because they existed, because I can't change the past, and I don't know if I would given the chance.
All I can do is keep missing them.