A time to grieve

Here I am, about 1 month post-op, waiting for my body to signal my next cycle of treatment in this journey toward trying to start a family. And in the last month, I've been feeling a mixture of emotions, ranging anywhere from hope to defeat. But at the request of a friend (thx JRC), I started following a forum of supportive fellow infertilites. And I read something that completely changed my view on the whole process. It read, " To many, this process and struggle may not seem like a hard situation. For me, it was as tough as losing my mother, my best friend."

Whoa....

Reading those few words.. it really made me start thinking about where to place my anger, frustration, sadness, etc, etc, etc.

And I had a realization. A big one.

15 years ago, my brother, Jason passed away. Jason and I were extremely close, and I still feel I mourn the loss of him from my life. But for some reason, this year has been particularly difficult, I couldn't say why, it just has. I miss him so much, yet feel he is with me everyday, even through my struggles.. especially then. But when I read that comparison of infertility with death, I began to see my severe mourning of Jason as really a manifestation of my sadness over the loss of a child that never was... and may never be. And though I still miss Jason immensely, it was both struggles that compounded one.

Jason's future, his dreams, his hopes, his plans... all were cut short. Taken away. And in some sense, infertility feels the same to me. It feels like a very slow, agonizing, dragged-out release of the dreams and hopes for the future, especially those thoughts of conceiving and carrying, and finally holding your child. For as long as I can remember, I've dreamed of having a child. I've imagined and felt love for this child. But to mourn means to find a way move past the "should be" and face the "what is".

As we begin to educate ourselves on all the potential avenues we can take in this exhausting journey, this realization has left me wondering where I will find the strength to untangle that "should be" and "what is" in order to find peace for both Dave and I as we deal with the painful reality.