November Blues

Standard

It took my friend M. five years and IVF to get pregnant with her twins. Early on in her pregnancy, she showed warning signs of incompetent cervix. A few weeks ago, she got her stitch and has been bedridden. Today, at 24 weeks, she is now bedridden in the hospital. She’s due on March, but the doctors are just hoping she’ll make it to December.

I just this to have a happy ending. I’m tired of being sad.

Speaking of sad, DH has talked me into seeing someone for depression. A psychiatrist. I’m still not pleased with this decision and I’m not going in with a positive attitude about this right now, but I’ll give it a try. What’s the worst that could happen? That I end up relying on medication for happiness? At least I’d be happy. Besides, I’m already dependent on my husband for my happiness, and I’m afraid that I’m suffocating him with my neediness.

Therapy is getting harder and harder. Monday, I had to read a dialogue that I wrote between myself and my anger. I didn’t save it, but I think I’ll ask her for a copy of it to post here. DH was there to here my recitation, and I think was even harder. He recognizes that I’m hurting, and he knows that I realize I’m not healthy, but there is nothing he can do. If I’m going to be completely honest, I agreed to go to the doctor out of his sake rather than mine. I don’t really have a positive outlook – I’m not sure that I’ll be able to go back and be the person that I was when he fell in love with me, but I at least want to be tolerable again. Less angry. Less volatile.

I don’t want depression medication. I have no problem with my anxiety meds that I take once in awhile, but I don’t feel comfortable talking about getting on a long-term solution – if solution is even the right word.

I think a good sign is that I felt sadness for M.’s situation today.

As always, I’ll post later.

Oh! Good news is that DH is feeling better. He’s walking around and everything!

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Lonely

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I can’t help shake the isolation I feel. I’ve always felt a little odd, a little like I don’t belong,  but now that feeling is overpowering me.

My friends all either have kids or have schedules that don’t permit much socializing. With DH on disability,  I don’t a disposable income.  DH is here all the time,  but he’s an invalid who spends all of his free time messing with technology.  I feel more alone now than I did when I was single.

He’s also getting fed up with my depression.  I don’t think he understands the depth and complexity of what I’ve gone through. He had one day where he felt like like he hated his body,  but he can’t imagine 4.5 years of that.  He can’t imagine the failure that I feel.  The guilt that I feel.  The self loathing. The answer that I feel towards others for all sorts of reasons. The inability to express myself. The embarrassment I have poverty my grief. The hated I have of Thanksgiving,  and Christmas, and New Years.

The counselor says that I need to work on forgiveness, but I don’t know if that’s the real problem. It’s like I have my claws in stuck in this idea of what I wanted and I can’t let go. It’s a family. That’s all I really ever wanted. DH, me, and a baby (or two). A chance at something that I lost as a child, something that I still miss today.

I am angry with how my life has turned out. And the last thing I need is for people to start sending me motivational inspirations like “It’s never too late to to become the person you want to be” or “If you don’t like something about you life, change it.” Or when people who are grieving a boyfriend of three weeks start pinning stuff from my child loss board on Pinterest. I don’t want to hear that other people are having a hard time, or that other people have grief, as well.

In Texas, there is lots of talk over the abortion requirements/ban. I can’t seem to help but get involved. One friend posted a link and it generated a few comments (around 12, perhaps, two of which were mine where I talked about 20 weeks isn’t enough time to make a TFMR decision. I specifically noted that there are many anomalies that can’t be found until AFTER 20 weeks.

This this woman comes along to post:

I honestly didn’t read all of these comments because there were a lot, but in response to why 20 weeks, 15-20 weeks is when all testing is done to make sure the baby is normal and without defects, so they can make an informed choice about whether they want to continue the pregnancy or not. I can say that as a pregnant woman at 17 weeks, it’s pretty far along and 20 weeks is literally half way through the pregnancy. I don’t think that limit is unreasonable.

I *wanted* to tell her not to get too comfortable with a healthy baby yet, because 17 weeks is NOTHING. Look at her, all fat and sassy from her pregnancy expertise, thinking that trisomy is the only defect that can happen.

I *wanted* to say “Maybe you should have read the comments, because posting this make you look ignorant, cruel, and too uninformed. I weep for your future child because you are oblivious and proud of your stupidity. Keep your fingers crossed that you don’t get a poor-prenatal diagnosis at 19 or 20 weeks, because Texas won’t give a shit about you or your family. I hope every ultrasound you have causes you to clench up in fear. I hope every long office wait you have makes you think the worst news. I hope you have to worry about the risk/reward for continuing to carry a severely sick fetus to term and how you are going to afford that without any help. Good luck!”

But instead, I just said:

(Name redacted), there are lot of other issues that make the 20 ban difficult for terminating for medical reasons, Most women get the genetic ultrasound *at* 20 weeks. While you can find out some things early on through blood tests (like trisomies like down syndrome),there is SO MUCH more out there that can go wrong. It takes a lot of time for more in-depth testing – most parents want to MAKE sure that the condition is serious before they terminate, and an amniocentesis takes a long time – some women I know had to wait a month because they were dealing with rare anomalies. You also have to wait to schedule the procedure. It’s not like you get a poor prenatal diagnosis and then the next day you are in the doctor’s office getting the procedure.

17 weeks is really early to find anomalies. 17 weeks is when I got my bad news, and the only reason I found out so early is because I paid to find out the gender at 16 weeks. If I had waited until 20 weeks as customary, I would have been at least 22 weeks.

When you are dealing with terminating for medical reasons, 20 weeks is insufficient.

Of course, she never responded. The mean part of me hopes that she is curled up in closet crying from fear, but honestly, I just hope that she has considered her position and realized just how fucking lucky she is.

We can’t even move ahead with the NTNP (not trying, no protection) approach because of complications with my husband’s syndrome.

I’m also tired of people asking me about IVF. Usually what happens in this:

Well-Meaning Stranger: What about IVF? I know that’s expensive.

Me: Yeah, well, it’s not happening right now. We have a lot of medical bills right now that we can barley afford, especially now that DH is on disability.

WMS: Oh, but what about adoption?

Me: Uh, yeah. That’s even more expensive and there is still a chance that the child would get taken away. I’ve had too many friends who have had their heart broken over that.

WMS: Well, there’s always surrogacy.

Me: Do you even know what that is, or are you just parroting it after you saw some celebrity couple discussing the blessings of surrogacy on Oprah? Just leave me alone to wallow in my defective femininity and understand that if I do actually ever get pregnant again, it will be a miracle attributed to science.

WMS: …

I swear, I am happy that celebrities are more forthcoming with infertility issues, but it makes every reality tv show watcher an expert. I am NOT GUILIANA and BILL. I am not a pseudo-celebrity with a huge disposable income to gamble on treatments.

I have a lot to vent since I haven’t bee posting lately, but I’ll save the rest for another time.