Thursday, April 18, 2013

attitude adjustment


My freewheeling negativity, my sarcasm, my dark humor. My flippant remarks about live blogging my miscarriage and learning to say “repeat pregnancy loss.” My deep-seated belief that nothing will work, that my lining is too thin, that my uterus is misshapen, that my numbers are too high/low/backwards/purple/Thursday. It’s all gotten to be a little much – for C.

The other night, when C mentioned something sweet he hoped to do with our future baby, I reflexively pushed back – no, stop, don’t say that, we’re not at the point where it’s safe to even acknowledge I have a uterus[1].

Enough. He had had quite enough of my antics. He, for one, was ready to be optimistic, hopeful, even giddy with excitement (his words). His reasoning – which seems eminently, well, reasonable – is that whether or not he’s excited now, he will inevitably be devastated should things go wrong. So why not relish in the excitement? Why not openly debate the best middle name, the merits of the hyphenated last name, the color of the nursery and the animal themed changing table pad? SERIOUSLY SARAH. WHY THE F NOT.

He was frustrated; he felt stifled and perhaps resentful that I got to control the terms on which we do or do not celebrate this – any of this – including when, how and how much. He recognizes how much I, we, have gone through and the pain of our very early loss is not forgotten. But he is also in full on dad mode[2] and wanting to embrace it, with all that it entails.[3]

And me? Well. Since the second beta, my anxiety level – after briefly receding for approximately six hours – has gone off the deep end. Every time I sneeze, I swear I’ve miscarried and the minute-by-minute absence or presence of barely discernible “symptoms[4]” creates a roller coaster of ever changing emotions. My boobs continue to be sore, but probably, mostly, because I beat on them several times a day.[5] You know. To make-sure-they-are-still-sore. I’m suddenly peeing 2-3 times during the night but I’m not certain whether that’s baby, anxiety, or the ever present, baby-anxiety. And it’s fair to say that my general demeanor has been charmingly pleasant ahem, irritable.

So today, I’m trying not to be a total ever-loving-brat and to be grateful, for crying out loud. I’m consciously making an effort to curb my negativity, to resist the easy, self-deprecating, the-future-is-a-desolate-hell-scape! remarks, to let C talk about the toys he wants to buy our future spawn[6], whether we’ll raise it vegetarian and how we’ll dress it like a baby chicken on Halloween[7]. I’m trying to acknowledge that I may be completely, irretrievably destroyed disappointed if something goes wrong, but that it’s also okay to be happy[8]. (Oh dear. The self-indulgent navel gazing will dissipate over time – I swear).



[1] Except of course to dozens of strangers on the interwebs. Because I am a giant hypocrite internally logical and consistent in my neuroses.
[2] Truth: I swoon over Will Arnett.
[3] My bad attitude excluded.
[4] Is that nausea? Wait, no, but is that nausea? Wait, what about now?
[5] NSFW! Totally kidding. This is G rated. Intrigued now?
[6] It’s either that or robot baby. Or a way-too-cutsie name that C has taken to using. I'll spare you.
[7] All pressing concerns. Also, I just realized this zinger – what does it mean to dress a vegetarian baby as a chicken? That is so meta.
[8] My goodness these posts are getting bleak. And schmaltzy. Sheesh.

14 comments:

  1. I agree with C. What you do now won't make a difference to how devastated you would feel IF something were to go wrong... but I really have a good feeling about this for you. Allow yourself (and C) to soak up every minute of this hard-earned pregnancy. I know I will if/when I ever get there.

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    1. Your positive attitude through all the ups and downs - including the most recent down - is truly amazing. And I am so hoping that you guys will be able to enjoy a hard-earned pregnancy in the very near future.

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  2. Well, clearly, self-deprecation and sarcasm are coping mechanisms and damn it, we need those. I actually wish I had been a little less "tra la la, everything is perfect" when I got my BFP so that the subsequent loss could be a bit less... devastating. But still. It's so different for the men, isn't it? I guess what I'm trying to say is that dark humor and jokes is just part of who you are, so roll with it. But also, perhaps in a contradictory way, let yourself celebrate and brainstorm those baby names. No matter what happens, you'll get to look back on this time with the fondest of memories. We've all paid our dues and have most certainly earned the right navel gaze whenever we damn well please.

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    1. thanks, amanda - totally trying to keep a nice balance of self-deprecation, humor and celebration. and on a related note, your ability to bounce back after this recent loss is mind boggling and i'm sending all kinds of positive vibes for the next round and the broccoli diet in between now and then :)

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  3. It's so tempting to think that being pessimistic in any way would soften a horrible blow, but it won't. And it's so tempting to be afraid that being positive or optimistic will incite negative events. But it won't. It's easy to say but hard to do, but there is nothing that you can do now to change what is happening or what will happen, so allow yourself to enjoy. I promise it won't cause anything bad to happen.

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    1. thank you for this - I can't imagine this being more perfectly put. you have more perspective on this than I do and the truth is, you're right, even if it's hard for me to remember sometimes. thank you.

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  4. I sympathize with both you and your husband :-) It sounds like the sarcasm and self-deprecation and dark humour have served you well in helping you navigate the super-weird journey of TTC with an IF diagnosis (and they make your writing very funny to read.) Being able to laugh at, mock, or criticize something is a way to create distance from the experience, and it's often very necessary to create emotional distance from the tragic absurdities of IF. But on the other hand sometimes life requires that we embrace it without holding back - and that's a very beautiful thing too. It sure can be hard after repeated disappointment though. Maybe you can work on having just one conversation a day or something about the pregnancy where you don't allow any negative thoughts or comments in - as a sort of experiment. But always keeping the blog as an outlet for everything else. I don't know....never been in your position...though I'd like to one day...so just speculating.

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    1. thanks so much, you're right. trying to slowly but surely allow the positive feelings in, even briefly, makes a lot of sense. but don't worry, i'll keep the snark coming strong on the blog. I hope you get here one day, too - sending many positive thoughts.

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  5. I cope with sarcastic humor as well. It's more comfortable that being a downer in general. I can attest to how you feel, though I am a step behind you. After a loss, we lose a little bit of our ability to go at this with blind hope. We are cautiously optimistic. We hope for the best and prepare for the worst. It makes sense to me. I think we can have hope that this is going to turn out differently on the one hand and acceptance that this could end the same as before. Let the good feelings in when you can and I for one appreciate your humor.

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  6. I totally totally totally get (in a terrified, terrifying way), the urge to distance yourself from what is actually happening right now. I'm not always sure that I can cognitively relate 'pregnant' with 'baby' any more at all. And I am a firm believer that humour, dark or otherwise, can carry us through a lot of crap.
    But.
    The fact is, caring now wouldn't make bad news any easier to bear, and neither will it conjur an ill fate on this pregnancy, this little spark of life. While I hope and assume that everything will continue to be boringly, healthily routine for you from here until you're holding that life in your arms, I can say this: My first pregnancy was also my longest, but as you know, it didn't end well. Still, the moments of full-on mom mode, when (far too early!) I sang to my son, gave him silly nicknames, loved him fiercely and unselfconsciously, are memories I wouldn't trade for anything. They are some of my proudest possessions in fact.
    I'm with C; I say love fiercely and unselfconsciously, however that looks for you. Easier said than done, I know friend. But I can only hope I'll be able to manage that when I finally get where you are again. In the meantime, you can vent all your darkest humour and worst fears here, and I promise we'll understand and share all of it, and keep encouraging you to think otherwise too.

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    1. Sadie, this beautiful post made me tear up, and not only because I feel especially like a chump to be griping given that I am, in fact, apparently, pregnant. But your words about loving your son, without hesitation and unselfconsciously, and your strength after such a devastating loss, leave me nearly speechless. Thank you and I hope that you're soon to join me on this pregnancy bandwagon.

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    2. Please don't feel like a chump! Your feelings are totally yours and they're valid. I really just wanted to say that I understand the complexity of feelings you're processing right now and to hopefully(!) offer some words of encouragement as you progress on this doubtless scary-as-hell road. There will be moments of beauty and elation too, no matter what.
      I really really hope I'm soon joining you on that bandwagon too!

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    3. thanks, sadie, you didn't make me feel like a chump and you know I always appreciate your words of encouragement :)

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