In Good Times and in Bad
6 years. đź–¤
On October 7th, Henry and I are celebrating our six year wedding anniversary. I honestly don’t know how I feel about this. On one hand, I am so grateful to have him as my partner through all of the ups and downs of life. One the other, I am disappointed that almost the entirety of our marriage has surrounded some sort of trauma that was specifically because of me.
The Plan.
Here’s what my “plan” was for the beginning of our marriage:
Enjoy the first year of marriage.
Get my masters degree before having children. I knew, for me, I would not do it after I had children, or at least that’s what I thought to be true. I enrolled in a rigorous, full-time, 10-month masters program at the University of Pennsylvania, while also working full-time. Looking back, I was completely burnt out.
During the time I was in my masters program, my plan was to get pregnant so that I could still enjoy my Graduation but not waste any time growing our family. I didn’t want to feel guilty for chasing after a dream of mine, so I thought this was the perfect compromise.
I would have our first child at age 32 so that I could have our second before I turned 35 (the age where in my mind, I would no longer want/be able to have children.)
Here’s what actually happened:
The first year of marriage was hard, but not because of Henry. I struggled a lot with personal demons and wanted to really sort them out before having children.
It took me close to 100 days to get a cycle back after I came off birth control. I remember feeling agony during that time of waiting because time was passing by, time that I couldn’t afford (this is how I have continued to feel throughout my life, specifically as it relates to family building and pursuing my dreams).
We did not get pregnant during the time frame I allotted. A friend of mine told me to maybe look into fertility specialists just to get an appointment on the books because she had heard it could take a while. I scheduled one for the day after my graduation from Penn.
My mom died suddenly in April 2019 and my world, as I knew it, was over. My mom died about a month before I was set to finish up classes and complete my degree. I was a total mess. In addition to not being able to think straight, I blamed myself for my mom’s death and was wrecked with guilt. This feeling would follow me until now.
I got a phone call before my fertility appointment was scheduled in May 2019 that it needed to be rescheduled. The next available one wasn’t until September.
After our first fertility appointment, I had an HSG done which showed that I had a blocked fallopian tube. My doctor suspected I may have endometriosis.
In November 2019, I had laparoscopic surgery done, which showed I did not have endometriosis. Rather than removing my tube (which in her defense, I told her I wanted my tube if she could unblock it), it was still there and would continue to cause infertility issues.
In February 2020, after a second HSG which proved the surgery did not work, Henry and I got pregnant. In March, we found out they were twins! In late April, we found out I had my first missed miscarriage and lost both of them.
Covid was taking over the world at this time so I had to have a MVA procedure without Henry by my side.
It took another 100 days for my cycle to return. In July 2020, we started doing IUI treatments. The first one didn’t work, the second one was cancelled because all of the follicles were on the blocked side, and the third one, which was in late September 2020, worked!
Because of Covid and my own trauma, I suffered from some of the worst anxiety I have ever felt during this pregnancy. Despite that, C.C. was born in June 2021. She was considered SGA so there was a lot of fear and anxiety during the first year trying to make sure she was adequately nourished (something I still struggle with since she’s such a picky eater!)
In December 2022, I found out I was pregnant again! We had been trying for a few months but it was a welcome surprise. In March 2023, at our 14 week appointment, we found out the baby’s heart had just stopped beating. He was measuring at 14 weeks but no heartbeat. I named him Brighton Daniel. To this day, we are not sure what happened but I tested positive for a virus called parovirus and that is what we ultimately landed on was the reason (however, for those of you who have miscarried you know there is rarely ever an answer, even when there is). I had a D&E for this.
Following the D&E, I had to have a hysteroscopy in April 2023 to remove scar tissue. I was then placed on hormone therapy to help heal my uterus.
In June 2023, we found out we were pregnant again. This time was a shock because my cycle hadn’t even returned yet from the last miscarriage. We welcomed this miracle and thought this was our stars aligning. Everything we went through led us to this moment. Sadly, at our 10 week appointment, we found out we had lost that baby too. Another boy. For this, I had a D&C. The diagnosis for this miscarriage was triploidy and a partial molar pregnancy. I am still in the process of getting blood tests to make sure the pregnancy levels are going down. If they do not, then it can form into a rare cancer needing chemotherapy for treatment.
We’re now in October 2023 and I am 36 years old. I guess you could say I am not thrilled with how things have turned out. So much pain and trauma. Everyone around me tells me I should be grateful for what I do have and, believe me, I am. But I feel like I can’t catch my breath because of the weight of trauma on my chest.
So, yeah, six years has gone by and I know for sure that the person Henry married is not the same person. Not even close. That person had big dreams, believed anything was possible, exercised daily for her mental health, woke up early to get the day started, loved hanging out with friends and families, felt like she could touch her dreams of becoming a published author, and was, overall, proud of herself. She was young and believed the best was yet to come.
This person? This person is putting all of her energy into surviving, and that’s it. All of the above attributed have fallen by the wayside, and I feel like I am fighting a fight I will never win. Trauma has gotten the best of me, and I just want to go back to the woman that married my husband. I didn’t sign up for this. We didn’t sign up for this. All of this feels unfair to him. Every day he has to watch me fight to overcome my own grief, which I know must be heartbreaking for him. I am sure he wants his wife back. The one he said “I do” too. Not this beat up version.
I know we said, “in good times and bad,” but I never could have imagined that there would be so much bad. More than half of our marriage has been one tragedy after another. Sometimes I think he’d be better off with someone else. Someone who doesn’t carry all of this baggage. Someone who isn’t struggling with crippling grief.
Mom, it’s been hard for me to watch my wedding video because hearing your voice brings me to my knees. The part where Daddy says, “Me and your mother, Bonnie, we’ve been together for almost 48 years. I hope you have the same longevity.” And then you follow up in that video with, “I just want her to have that happiness and innocence and just loving each other, good or bad, and happily every ever. It’s just…just a beautiful thing.” I wish you were here to help me get back that “innocence.” Get me back to the person I was before, before all of the trauma hit. I know you were a fighter, and you’d expect that same mentality from me, but I am tired. I don’t feel like I have any fight left.
I am not sure if I needed to write this, just to hear that message from you. I am not sure I would have paused to listen to that part of the video again, but I’d like to think now that it was a sign from you. That marriage was never meant to be perfect and easy. I know it wasn’t for you and Daddy, but to hold on to that friendship you talked about. You always said, “marry your best friend” and now I know exactly what you meant. Even though you and Daddy had 48 years together, it still wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.
Love you, Mom (and love you, Henry!)
Happy six years to my husband. Thanks for loving me through all of the good and the bad.
