Monday, September 25, 2006

Butter tarts and a billion hats

I've been missing Thomas so much the last few days. I miss him all the time, but every now and then it hits me like a freight train and sends me into complete mental chaos. The disappointment of the IUI and the general infertility malaise that I'm settling into hasn't helped either.

For some reason, every cycle that I find myself still miserably and utterly unpregnant makes me miss Thomas more. It's as though I'm moving farther and farther away from all babies - including him - with each failed cycle. Like they're all out of reach. Like I'm hurtling into a vast babyless void.

And I don't know what to fill it with. I don't know what I will fill it with if it stays empty forever. I guess there will be a lot of bear hats for my friends' kids and a freezer full of butter tarts and pumpkin loaves for My Beloved and me. I can make other things if I can't make babies, I suppose.

Eeew. How maudlin and self-servingly pathetic. But what's a melancholic girl to do? Bake and crochet. Blog and moan. Repeat.

On Saturday night we went to the in-laws for dinner where there was lots of good food and lots of people I love. But I kept seeing the empty space where Thomas should have been. I watched his three cousins running and playing and getting cuddles and kisses from their aunts, uncles and grandparents - and I ached because Thomas wasn't there to do the same.

The kids are all growing up and getting so big and my Thomas is still a little baby.

What a great, big, horrible mind fuck.

Geez, I can't even blame this funk on Clomid since we're playing hooky from the clinic this cycle. It's all me baby. All the negativity and resentment and grief and frustration. It's all me.



Sherry said...

Yes, this is the worst kind of mindf*ck. I wish so much that I could find that elusive magic wand and wave it to make everything right.

I got chills while reading all of this. Replace your crocheted hats with my neverending garden projects and we have the same story of distractions and of wondering what's in store.

I have to hope, though, that we won't go hurtling into that void. Just hang on.


Lisa P. said...

Like Sherry I wish I could say something, do something, anything, to make this different.

And my distractions come from my favorite TV show (Lost), which seems kind of pathetic given that I could be doing something creative. But the wondering is always there.


Catherine said...

Bake and crochet. Blog and moan. Repeat.

We must be long lost sisters.

Katie said...

Oh yeah, I am so with you on the: what can I create if not a baby? It's like we are hard-wired to birth something!

I feel compelled to do something "significant" with my life. So people can say, "She never had kids but she ______________ ." Fill in the blank with something incredibly fantastic.

...found a cure for cancer.

...mentored 5,000 low-income girls who are now college-educated and changing the world.

...single-handedly solved the poverty problem.

casey said...

I don't know if you've visited recently, but Julie over there is hosting a raffle for a family that is trying to adopt their second baby. I won't go into the whole story, but something that the family said struck a chord with me, and I wanted to pass it along. Forgive me if it's out of line.

After 11 years of unexplained IF and then losing a hard fought battle to stay pregnant, the couple attended an adoption seminar. Beth, the wife, describes "I feel as if someone was shouting to us that our baby had been born somewhere else."

Yes, you have a baby to remember and grieve for. And while I don't have any words to take away that pain, I guess what I'm saying is, as you feel yourself hurtling into a babyless void, perhaps you can envision that there are babies waiting for you in the future. You just don't know them yet.

Wishing you some relief from the malaise...

miraclebaby said...

Big hugs.
You brought tears to my eyes. I'm so sorry that Thomas is not here to enjoy all of that.