Monday, January 4, 2010

Update... or lack there of

It's been a week since I got the news, that "there is no justice in this world," and that my tubes have been ruined to the point of infertility by an infection from my C-section to have Peyton. It's been a week, and we are no closer to knowing what our next step is.

My doctor was gone all last week, and though she returned today, has not yet called. I am sure it is not a conversation that she is looking forward to, but a call she should make so that we can move forward... whatever "forward" means.

I remember when I was a lifeguard in Florida, I always recognized the stages of heat stroke as they were happening to me. Hot, dry forehead. Headache. This is sort of like that. I recognize each stage of grief as I go through it.

This latest blow has me exhausted - emotionally, physically, mentally. A lifelong friend called today and said I sounded "more annoyed than upset." "Today is an anger day" I told her.

I don't know how to feel "okay" about this news. The things that have brought me comfort since losing Peyton (visiting her grave, writing, exercise) are not working this time. Looking down at her grave is somehow more upsetting... so much loss in one little life. It gets to be too much.

My writing has also suffered, pretty much going to sh*t this last week. All I come up with are little ridiculous poems and prose about how much this sucks, and my lack of will, determination, energy to figure out what to do. Isn't it amazing the way grief sucks the energy right out of those left living?

I got an email from a trainer who I workout with sometimes. "Haven't seen you in a while. Let's get back on track in 2010." "Huh," I thought to myself, "back on track... is that even possible?"

I'll leave you with this... one of the many random muttering poems from the day.

They walked the beach
Hand in tight held hand
Two souls in love
Among the sand

And looking out
Unto the sea
Decided it was time
Two became three

Now here we sit
The same couple two
Not knowing how
Or what to do

What should have brought
Joy's glory streams
Instead left in it's path
Our broken dreams

The first brought hope
But soon was lost
To miscarriage unexplained
Our innocence the cost

Our second born
With beauty's eyes
Fought Cancer's beast
Despite her size

And in four weeks
An imprint left
Upon our souls
That can't be swept

But soon too left
Us back as two
Not knowing how
We could get through

And when a year's
Healing had come
We said "let's be brave,
try for another one"

But what's the point
Knowing there can't be
A lucky baby
Number three

For fate was fast
With a cruel hand
Knocking us down again
Nowhere left to stand

How do two kids
Who've thrice been hurt
Find a way back up
Out of grief's dirt

When every rock passed
Reveals boulders anew
Loss now infertility
How will we get through

It's so unfair
Nothing here feels right
When will joy return
I'm tired of this fight


  1. It is so unfair... there are no words. Heartbreaking poem. So sorry. I hope you hear from your doctor soon.. maybe there will be some answers.. hope.


  2. I don't know what's in store for you next but I hope so much that your dr can give you a glimmer of good news-something that can be done. It isn't fair the way it is.

  3. I am thinking about you constantly and hope your doctor calls soon and at least has an action plan. I am so sad about the injustice.

  4. It's NOT fair. Life sucks sometimes for sure. I'm not of any divine understanding that would make things like this seem ok, only a child with the hope and faith that God will hear your cries and make right your situation somehow, some way. Check out that forum I sent you the link to Kristin, maybe something will pop out at you that you can bring up with your doctor. PM some of the women on there and ask them how they dealt with it, how they coped and how they achieved their success. Hang in there hon, we are all rooting for you...

  5. I am praying that your doctor will have a course of action for you that will point you in a positive direction. I know it doesn't seem possible but all is not lost. There are miracles in medicine and life every day.

    You've been through so much and given so much you deserve so much.

    Thinking of you...

  6. You continue to be in my thoughts and prayers.

  7. I have been thinking about you, and I am so sorry. I so wish there were words that could ease your grief and pain. I will continue to hope for you and pray for you.


  8. I am sorry, so sorry. You are right, this world is a broken, unfair place! I will pray that the next step will be clear, and worth the effort.

  9. Wow...what a beautiful and heartbreaking poem. I wish I could do something to make it easier.

  10. what a beautiful poem.. im speechless except for this.. im sorry. so, so sorry.

  11. Thinking of you. I'm so terribly sorry. It simply isn't fair.

  12. There is a "forward" for you on this journey, there just has to be.

    Sending more hugs and hope.


  13. I think universe is doing drugs really. Shit. I am so so so sorry....If your tubes are that f*cked up, I think doc will propose IVF now?

    But I am really sorry that you have to be experiencing this in the first place.

    Please stay strong, coz, God Knows, you will be needing every iota of it.


  14. I have come to your blog so many times. And never, never do I have words for you. I fall short each and everytime. I have cried reading your posts and don't even know what words I could say to comfort you. I am so glad I have finally said something you needed to hear, even if it wasn't in a comment on your blog. I am praying for you often. I am praying for a miracle for you.



  15. Thinking of you... No words of wisdom, but I'm thinking of you.

  16. My heart breaks for the unfairness you've experienced. Your poem was beautiful. I really hope 2010 brings you a miracle.

  17. Your words are heartbreaking, beautiful...

    I'm so sorry.

    We are praying for your broken heart.

  18. Yes, its so cruel and unfair and I am so sorry that you are going through this. I am sending prayers asap. Your poem was beautiful. *HUGS*

  19. I am thinking of you, as I have ever since I first came across your blog over the holiday. I can'tput into words how much I admire your courage and the rawness and immediacy and eloquence of your gift as a writer. I hope with every fibre in me that the doctors have some answers for you. Keep on raging - as Dylan Thomas said, 'Rage, rage against the dying of the light.'

  20. Testing - as comment disappeared...

  21. I just came upon your blog, and I have no words, no sage advice, nothing. I wish I did. I will be praying.

  22. I'm just so, so sorry. I understand to an extent - different situation but similar frustrations. We found out my husband and I are both carriers of a genetic disorder, meaning there is a 25% chance we will pass it down in any pregnancy. So trying again has been made complicated for us to, and we also don't know what to do. I know it's different, and I would never try to pretend I understand exactly what you're going through. But it's unfair to have to deal with something else on top of losing our precious children.

    Thinking of you.