I’ve never been the kind of person who lives totally in the present and forgets the past. You know, the kind of person who moves on from one stage of her life to the next, makes new friends, forgets the old, and doesn’t look back. I am in touch with people I went to high school with. My BFF IRL is someone who’s been my best friend since we were two shy 5th graders. We still meet once or twice every year, hang out, talk, remember our childhood and giggle over silly things, while our husbands shake their heads and wonder what got into their wives.
I have always had lasting relationships. I’ve made friends with co-workers and I’m in touch with co-workers I worked with 10-12 years ago, even though we now live in different countries. It’s never been easy for me to give up on a relationship and move on.
We started TTC very optimistically. Then IF hit us. We did not know how rocky the road ahead was. Slowly we saw all our friends move on, get pregnant, have their babies, and start getting immersed in their children’s lives. We were open with our immediate circle about our struggles. Some of our friends broke their pregnancy news to us gently; some came over and told us specially, so we would not hear from others. Some didn’t care, and we got the “Guess what? DS turned one, and on his birthday we decided to have another baby, DS is now 13 months old and I’m pregnant!!” announcements.
Our road kept getting rockier. We stumbled, we fell. We ran into walls and fell again. Got up and tried moving ahead again and again and again. Slowly, people stopped knowing what to say to us, or how to be around us. Slowly our immediate circle crumbled.
This is a post to remember all those relationships, because the memories sure are beautiful.
To you – who moved away, and kept in touch on phone once in a while. I can’t explain to you the torture that we’ve been through. I can’t explain that the reason I don’t answer your calls anymore is because I have nothing to say. I can’t lie and say “All’s well”, and I can’t explain my whole sordid reality to you. No, I am not ignoring you (despite what you may think). I am only protecting myself. But I do have great memories of times spent together.
To you – who heard of my pregnancy last year, and “decided to go for it to have your second child”. Of course I lost my pregnancy and 2 more after that. Your baby must now be 2 months old. We have not received a birth announcement yet. I don’t have the courage to reach out and congratulate you. You probably don’t know what to say to me. I do miss our times together, but I do not think those times are coming back ever again.
To you – who got pregnant the first month trying for each of your children. You never understood where I was in my struggles. You were too immersed in your life, and I don’t think I could have changed that. Again, I cherish the memories – your laughter still rings loud in my ears!
To you and you – who had your babies just before my due date. I cannot tell you the pain I feel in my heart, just by thinking of you. You have something I don’t. I cannot make myself meet you, and see your baby, because my own would be the same age. You have been great by keeping a graceful distance, and I am sorry, but I don’t think I will be able to cover that distance any time soon.
To you and you – who choose to want to be in our lives, but only at a superficial level. It feels like you want to be friends with us, but not with our IF. You want us to hang out with you and be happy, but you will never ask us what is happening in our lives since my miscarriage one year ago. That happy face is hard for us to project. So we retreat.
To you, who knows everything that is going on in my life, yet choose not to reach out to us and talk. Perhaps you don't know what to say. The irony of everything is, you don't have to say anything at all.
To you, and you and you, who don’t even know what is going on in my life, because I can’t explain it to you. I can’t bring you on the same planet as me, leave alone the same page.
I have great memories of our times with all these friends, but IF came in the way. IF changed me, and changed me in a way that is unfixable. Even if we ever get to hold our baby in our arms, I doubt if the scars of IF will ever fade away.
We’ve lost so many friends and relationships because people don’t get it. I can’t expect everyone to make me the focus of their existence and “get” my problems. Likewise, I can’t put my issues on the back burner and smile for everyone always. IF has taken more from us than our ability to have a child.
The Pieta of Music
1 day ago