Feeling somewhat bruised today after a culmination of a number of things and I realise that this process bruises us all. And I’m sad that the outcome of that is a lot of sadness and anger. Mainly anger.
I think the main point is this: Pregnancy after loss shoots you into a whole new domain of feelings, and suddenly you have a foot in each world – one still in the world of infertility, with those still struggling angry at you for being “okay”; and one in the world of pregnancy, where you feel like an imposter and you never quite get rid of the fear of history repeating itself and of reverting to being your childless self.
I feel stuck between those worlds now. For example I’ve tried to carry on blogging and not being one of those people who stops being supportive just because I’m “okay”.
(Thing is, I’m not okay. I’ll never be a normal pregnant woman because I’ll never take it for granted, and no matter how far everything goes, I’m still worried about loss. I have a new set of worries now and of course they have calmed a bit because it’s possible to acknowledge a pregnancy after a certain stage. But they are still very real. I’m not a complacent optimistic pregnant woman and I haven’t announced it on social media or told people I don’t see, because part of me still worries that it won’t happen and something will go wrong.)
But I’ve become really aware of how continuing to comment on people’s blogs might not be helping and supportive as I intended it to be. That for some people who are struggling to get pregnant, or are newly pregnant after infertility or loss, the fact of someone else being pregnant – even after their own infertility and loss – is not encouraging, and just makes them feel bad.
I have tried to be empathetic and supportive but maybe I just need to realise that there’s a certain stage of hell that infertile/newly pregnant after loss people are suffering in and that trying to be there for them whilst I am heavily pregnant is hugely triggering. And not just in blogland but real life, too.
It’s a weird feeling to be classed as someone who’s crossed over to being the subject of people’s anger for being pregnant. Because I was always the non-pregnant one, the infertile, the non-parent. It’s an identity I don’t feel fits, and yet here I am with a bump, causing pain to people in the same situation I was in for so many years.
It’s ironic because I still feel at 34 weeks like I can’t comfortably accept congratulations on my pregnancy or feel completely comfortable answering questions. I have stock answers but I don’t want to tempt fate by expecting everything is going to be okay, even if it seems that way to everyone else and there are people thinking, “It’s okay for you”, just as I did about others in previous times.
The big news is that I’ve known for a while now that my sister is pregnant. She had a very similar situation to mine last year where they did IVF and it resulted in a first ever pregnancy followed by miscarriage. I told her about the immune therapy we had and she ended up going to see the same doctor, and getting a slightly different diagnosis.
They decided to move forward with immune treatment alongside the “natural” cycles and then they decided to transfer their remaining frosty from their first cycle. (The difference for us was that cycle 2 was a fresh cycle as I didn’t create enough eggs / we didn’t have enough embryos of any quality to freeze any – on either cycle.) And now a few months later she has tested after the two week wait and she’s pregnant.
Of course I’m thrilled for them. And I can also understand how she must be feeling because I felt something like that too. The sheer all encompassing fear of getting positive pregnancy tests but before any scans. And even after scans in our case – as we had a first scan and heartbeat last time. I know I went a bit mad during that time, and truth be told, my mind only started to calm down slightly around the 20 week mark, which is a long way away for her.
And right now her sister – the one she could always depend on as being equally infertile – is heavily pregnant. I’ve been really conscious of how awful this must be for her even though I know she’s happy for me in her own way. I know how I felt when my brother’s wife had his baby whilst we were on our post-baby-loss-moon. It’s hard to deal with.
My sister has reacted a lot like I did. She is angry at everyone. She’s angry at her partner for being happy, for “not doing enough” and for not being able to read her mind. She’s angry at women at work who are pregnant or who have children – or even who are happy and chatty and not in a state of upset like she is. She told me she even moved desks to get away from them because they were “too happy”. She’s angry at my parents for asking how she is and offering support. I’m sure she’s angry at me for being pregnant.
She called me the other day because she was feeling so bad about everything and I did my best to reassure her that what she was feeling was normal. She has always been a lot more highly strung than I have, and if I think how crazy I felt, I would expect her to feel a lot worse. I have already written at how I feel about pregnancy after loss (How not to react when someone congratulates you on being pregnant). It has taken me a long time even to talk as if I’m not constantly waiting for loss – even if the thoughts still creep in.
I tried to reassure her that everything she was feeling was valid. I shared my experience of feeling angry and resentful that I couldn’t enjoy this pregnancy for months, and why I still worry. And we talked for a long time, and she was upset and angry and I don’t know how much I helped. I feel like during that time of waiting, you almost can’t say the right thing. The person who is pregnant after loss is going to be afraid, and angry, and I don’t think there’s much anyone can say to allay it.
So I don’t know how to navigate this. It’s like I’ve been given a role I didn’t ask for and suddenly I’m the oppressor rather than the oppressed. I don’t belong any more in the infertility world, with my big bump triggering people. And I’m not a parent either.
I don’t want to be one of the people causing pain to others. But equally, I feel like it’s not the pain Olympics but I still kind of think… Surely we have gained the right after everything we have been through to begin to hope we might have a successful pregnancy, eventually.
When I wasn’t pregnant and I had unexplained infertility and other things, I looked for hope. And when I miscarried our baby after our first cycle of IVF, I felt desolate – but the worst feeling was hopelessness. So I always searched for it. When people who’d known similar struggles got pregnant, I was happy for them because it gave me hope that there might still be something for me. (One of the first people I ever followed now has a real life baby who is about one year old, and I’m so happy for her!) When we went through cycle 2, I kept one blogfriend in mind who had a successful second cycle. I tried to believe in hope.
But I don’t want to be that source of pain if I can help it. Particularly if I can help it – I can’t help seeing my sister, but I can help commenting on people’s blogs and inadvertently causing them pain. I really do not want to do that. I’ve had over a decade of that and I don’t want to be that person to someone.
So I’m going to take a break from commenting on infertility blogs, unless I’m really sure that they want to engage (e.g. If they comment on mine and we “know” each other). I have always had a policy of trying to engage with blogs I follow (often as a result of them following me) but in some cases I can’t be sure, and I don’t want to hurt people by commenting if I am doing more harm than good.
I’m in a risky kind of place right now because I want to talk about my own experiences and fears and I’ve moved on a few months from that place of going through IVF and immune stuff so it’s maybe not appropriate to comment on people’s blogs who are still going through that.
I have had a whole day full of people being angry today and it’s making me feel fairly wretched. I wonder if there is some effect of the moon or something. There is too much pain and anger in the world today, and I’m not dealing with it well. I’ve also been wondering lately if there is such a thing as pre-natal depression or pre-baby blues or whatever. Because I feel like I’m taking stuff to heart and feeling teary when the old me would just have brushed it off. (Old me is one kick ass b*tch. Current me is blancmange.)
More than anything this week I think I need a break.