Alone

I think one of the worst feelings you can feel is alone. That’s the way I feel this morning. Completely lonely and isolated. Yesterday was our 2^nd baby’s due date. The baby that I carried to 9 ½ weeks. The one that I picked out a crib for and had narrowed down names for. The one that I started a registry for, and had shared the news of with all of our family and friends. The one that I thought was our miracle baby, having found out the day before starting the IVF process that we were pregnant. The one that I wish so badly I was holding in my arms right now. But I am literally the only person on this planet that feels this way about this baby. And I am the only person that realized that yesterday was his due date.

I am not writing to tell you how crappy my support system is, because truly they are amazing. I’m not writing to make anyone feel bad for not thinking of the date, although I’m sure this will do just that. I’m writing to say this struggle – this struggle that SO many people have to go through – is lonely. And isolating. And there’s no way around that. You can have the most amazing support group in the world, but they don’t feel those feelings that you do. Yes, they will feel. And they will hurt for you. But nowhere near the depth that I hurt. Even my husband, who is so wonderful and understanding and compassionate, doesn’t hurt like I do. Men process these things differently. Which isn’t an excuse, but it’s true. He didn’t feel the baby in his body. He didn’t worry about what he was eating and how much water he was drinking every day. He didn’t have (excuse the TMI) an uncomfortable ultrasound wand stuck in a very personal space a couple days a week for several weeks, or have to give blood twice a week. He didn’t have to wake up every morning at 5 to insert (that’s all I’ll say) progesterone. He doesn’t feel the gut-wrenching sadness that I feel for myself when I see someone else announce a pregnancy or hear they’ve delivered a baby.

There’s literally no one else on this planet that cares about my babies the way that I do. And I’ve known that, but today I think it’s just weighing heavy on my heart. And I’m feeling it, hard. I don’t need sympathy (although this blog post says otherwise), I just want to bring to light how tough it is. And how much we need our support system. No matter how little their understanding compares to what we are actually going through, we need them.