Today in the New York Times Magazine was an article by my brother-in-law. In this article he wrote about an abor*ion that he and his wife (then girlfriend) went through shortly after New Year's Eve. His article inspired me to sit down to write my following blog entry:
*****************************
While my brother-in-law and his then girlfriend, now wife, spent last New Year's Eve at home, preparing emotionally for an elective abor*ion, while my sister-in law suffered through a miscarriage, my husband and I went went out in Germany, my home country, to welcome the new year with a crowd. I yearned for a new year, for a new beginning.
While my brother-in-law and his girlfriend prepared themselves for an abor*ion, my husband and I tried to come to terms with the high probability that we might never have another child. After years of secondary infertility, after several surgeries and treatments for severe endometriosis, after a uterine rupture that resulted in Asherman's syndrome (scarring of the uterus), after two miserably failed attempts at IVF (even my doctor advised against a third try), there was not much hope left for us to experience a second pregnancy, a second birth, a second baby. Our beautiful 3-year old daughter would most likely stay an only child.
This thought made me incredible sad. I lost my father in my early twenties due to a glioblastoma, a deadly and terrible cancer of the brain. If there was one thing I learned from this tragic experience, it was the importance and comfort of family; the importance and comfort of siblings.
We had lost six potential siblings during two IVF cycles in the old year. Four of those only days before we came to Germany. I was on sedatives on the plane, as otherwise the trip seemed too daunting to me. I felt a profound sadness. The loss of the dream of another child was huge to me. It seemed like such an ordinary dream and yet so difficult and painful for us to achieve.
While tons of firecrackers and fireworks were lighted to greet the new year around me, I made my New Year's Resolution. It was a simple one. I would start Antidepressants as soon as we would get back to the States. Spending those last two years trying to conceive and failing each and every time, was taking a high emotional toll on me and my family. I didn't have much control over my reproductive bits, I couldn't force an embryo to settle down in my beaten uterus, even if we paid thousands of dollars for it, but I could put a protective shield around my heart. I could be a better partner and mother again.
And so I did.
Almost a year has passed since the day I made my New Year's Resolution. Another New Year's Eve is approaching fast.
My brother-in-law and his former girlfriend, now wife, will celebrate New Year's Eve on the Orient Express in Europe. They are on their honeymoon and excited about the new year. They have a good reason. They are expecting a child next June. My sister-in law, who suffered a miscarriage last year, is also expecting another baby. I do not know where they intend to celebrate.
My husband and I will stay home. We are not expecting a baby. I am not even pregnant. In fact, I am still lightly spotting from a D&C for a missed miscarriage that I had to undergo during Thanksgiving week. I went to 11 weeks with all sorts of reassuring pregnancy symptoms before we learned that our much waited for, our much loved surprise baby had silently died unnoticed weeks earlier. Our baby would have been due in June, the same month my brother-in-law is expecting his baby. I learned about his baby two days after my D&C, one day before Thanksgiving.
To our great surprise and amazement, I had fallen pregnant simply by having sex. In fact, technically I had fallen pregnant that way three times during the year. THREE times. Two pregnancies that lasted only a couple of days to a week (chemical pregnancies) and one that lasted several weeks. But I lost them all. And while it has admittedly given me hope that maybe one day, we will indeed be able to fall pregnant again (and maybe even EXPECT a child), I still cry for my lost babies. I keep whatever little physical memories I have of them, mostly positive pregnancy tests, in a white box next to my bed. Not even my husband knows about this box.
My brother-in-law and his wife are wonderful, sweet people. I like them a lot. But truth be told, I am incredibly jealous. And I am angry. It's not a rational anger, it's not justified, but nonetheless it's there. Not only is it their June baby that lives while mine died, they decided to have an elective abortion last year when my dreaded period flushed my much wanted IVF embryos down the toilet.
I always thought of myself as pr*-cho*ce. And I still do. A woman should be able to decide to continue or end her pregnancy for whatever reason. As my brother-in-law correctly wrote in the New York Times “The abortion is no one's business, but ours.” Rationally I am still all for it. Emotionally, I am struggling quite a bit right now.
It is soon time to make a new New Year's Resolution. My happy pills last year were a good one, they helped me deal with this year's infertility roller coaster quite effectively. I am holding up considerably well. But I have to think about a new resolution.
Maybe finally overcoming my anxiety to drive on freeways?
And maybe, maybe try unprotected intercourse.
