He Feels My Pain

At some point in this process, I began to desire for people to be aware of infertility.  I wanted them to understand how many people around them suffered from it, and I wanted them to appreciate the pain that comes along with it.  The problem that I had was that others were just not aware of the struggles of infertility.  I wanted everyone around me to understand my pain.

When I crossed into that desire to make others aware, I stopped hiding as much.  I tried to be more honest when I was having a bad day.  I told those that asked how often I was crying.  I tried to tell them with my words how hard this journey was, and how much harder each step was becoming.

The problem there is that you can’t describe this pain.  You can’t make someone understand how far down the pain goes and how much it hurts to literally sob each and every day.  You can’t describe it, but you can feel it.  God feels it for me.  Todd feels it with me.

Wednesday, January 7, our miscarriage started.  I say “our” because this is not my journey.  This is not the fight of one woman trying to have a baby.  This is the struggle that Todd and I are in together.  When the miscarriage started, my world began to crumble. 

I thought it was hard when I had my first miscarriage in May of 2013. 

I thought it was hard when the second cycle failed.

I thought it was hard when the third cycle didn’t even make it to transfer. 

I thought it was hard when we heard we were going to have a miscarriage after the fourth cycle.

What I didn’t realize is how truly hard this miscarriage was going to be.  (For the record, if I could go back to December 19, I would have chosen a D&C over a natural miscarriage.)  I didn’t know that this miscarriage was going to leave me in physical pain and an emotional turmoil that I have never felt before.  For the last eight days, I have found myself sobbing uncontrollably at some point in the day.  Most of the time, I am wrapped in Todd’s embrace when it happens.  For that, I am blessed.

However, telling you that I have cried physically and audibly, until my body shakes and I don’t even recognize myself, will not let you fully understand it.  God feels it for me.  Todd feels it with me.

I just want everyone to understand…not just our struggle, but the struggle of so many other couples around them.

It was last night that I realized that I can’t help everyone understand.  I can’t tell you of the pain and help you to feel it with me.

This is something that Todd and I must continue to feel together and learn to pull out of together.  Right now, I have no other job.  Trying to make others aware and being honest about my emotional state will only keep me in the place of a victim of infertility.  Together, Todd and I will lean on our faith in God and allow Him to help us get to the point where we can find that peace and joy that we once had.

All of this is not to say that we don’t appreciate the love and kind words that friends and family have sent to us because we do.  This is just to say that I realize now that I can’t teach anyone how painful this struggle is.

My goal moving forward is to try to find my joy as often as I can.  Some days are harder than others.  However, I know that the way I have spent the last 8 days is a miserable, dark, lonely place.  It’s time to pull myself out of this hole and move forward.  Some of the time, I will have to fake happiness.  One day, though, the good days will outweigh the bad.  Then, I can answer honestly that I am “fine” and “having a good day.”  God will feel it for me.  Todd will feel it with me.

 

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I am linking-up with another blogger today: 

http://www.amateurnester.com/2015/01/courage-fear-during-infertility.html