A Full Year and Nothing to Show for It

Can you ever be okay with the trauma in your life?

I’ve been wrestling with depression this holiday season. On December 16, 2022, I found out I was pregnant with Brighton. Almost immediately after that test, I got really sick, much sicker than I was with C.C. I could barely get out of bed so, on most days, I was working from my bed. The only thing I could keep down was plain bagels with butter and Body Armor drinks. I knew that pregnancy was going to last. I just had a feeling everything was fine. But I was also dealing with pretty bad pregnancy depression, which was really scary. Hormones are a wild thing and while I was prepared for the anxiety, nothing could have prepared me for the crushing depression I felt while I was pregnant. It was something I didn’t understand. I was so excited about this pregnancy. Why was I so sad and hopeless?

A part of me wants to think that it was my body’s way of preparing that we would soon be shocked with the news his heart stopped beating at our 14-week appointment at the end of February. To this day, I will never understand how he was measuring so perfectly at 14 weeks but his heart just stopped. It’s still hard for me to accept that he’s gone and I’ve been pregnant since that miscarriage and had another miscarriage. It takes everything in me not to blame myself for that miscarriage.

Like I said, my pregnancy with Brighton was different. I just knew it in my soul he was supposed to be here. He IS supposed to be here. I feel as though a piece of me is missing without him.

It’s been one year since I surprised Henry with that positive pregnancy test. The best surprise of our lives. But I knew a pregnancy test doesn’t always lead to a baby earth side. And yet, it still felt like the most devastating thing.

Yesterday, we found out our second IUI failed. It’s hard to be here after being pregnant twice this past year. It’s ironic that we got pregnant so easily, only to miscarry, and now we can’t get pregnant doing fertility treatments. One full year later, no baby, and struggling to get pregnant. Awesome.

Some days are harder than others. Some days, I’m not sure why I can’t just give up. But deep down I know that there is another baby meant to be with us, and I won’t give up until that happens. I just hope that I don’t completely fall apart in the process.

For those of us who struggled with infertility to have their first child, and now are struggling to have another, I see you. On one hand, we’re so grateful for the miracle we have but as they get older, it’s hard not to be consumed with trying for another before it’s too late.

Before it’s too late. Are we all just always running out of time? I really want to enjoy this life I have, but it can feel so hard when I’m constantly dealing with the trauma of everything. My therapist told me to write a letter to Brighton to “let go” as if that’s possible. But here goes nothing:

Dear Brighton,

I would give anything to have you earth side. I constantly wonder what type of baby you’d be. Would you refuse sleep and eating like your sister? Would you be strong-willed like her? Would you be fearless like her? Would you be soft, warm, gentle, and sweet? Would you have completed our family? Would you look like your dad?

What kind of big sister would C.C. be? Would she be protective of you? Would she be a great helper for me? Would she start going to her dad more so that you and I could spend the time we needed together? Would breastfeeding be as hard? Would I give myself more grace this time around?

Will I ever stop blaming myself for your death? Will I ever be able to let go? Letting go feels like I’m letting go of you and I can’t do that. You should be here. I’m not sure the void in my heart can ever be filled.

Your dad tells me I need to start living for the living and our future, but I feel like that means letting go of you. Can I bring you with me in my heart? We found out yesterday our second IUI failed, and I am desperately hoping to see a positive pregnancy test soon. I want to feel joy and hope again, not fear and anxiety. I want so badly to complete our family with another child. I’m not ready to give up.

Are you in heaven with your Cak Cak, and your other siblings? What’s it like? Can you tell Cak Cak I’d really like to bring a child home earth side this time? Can you ask her for her help?

I’m so sorry I couldn’t bring you home. I’m so sorry I couldn’t give you life. I’m so sorry I’m writing you a letter instead of holding you in my arms. You will always have such a special and big place in my heart. I just hope one day it won’t hurt as much.

I love you, infinity.

Mom

Secondarily infertility after already struggling to have our first child has been frustrating. Aren’t people supposed to catch a break after suffering for so long? What is the lesson in all of this? Why have I lost four children? Why is it now so hard for us to get pregnant?

I honestly don’t believe in my heart that we’re done so I’m not willing to give up, but at what point is it over? At what point do we throw up our hands and surrender to all of this? Sometimes it feels like infertility is trying to break me down to the point of no return.

Even so, I won’t give up. My mom didn’t raise a quitter. As she always told me, “where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

I love you infinity, Mom.

Xoxoxoxo