I feel like a fraud. I’m straddling between two worlds, infertility and parenthood, but my footing isn’t solid on either side. I think we can all agree that we don’t quite “fit in” with normal parents, but I’m struggling to put my finger on why. Is it because we’re privy to the really bad way things can turn out? Has the loss of our own babies, the loss of our friends’ babies, tainted our view forever?
I think I’ll always cringe at that early announcement, hoping she doesn’t have to come back and tell everyone she lost the baby. I’m in awe of the blissful ignorance of those who don’t know loss, who’ve never had it, never held someone’s hand (virtually or physically) while they grieved the deepest loss one can imagine.
Speaking of loss, the community has been rife with it lately and, frankly, I’m coping by sticking my head in the sand. I know, it’s not right, but it’s my knee-jerk reaction right now. Twitter is full of struggle and I’ve been absent from posting there with any sort of frequency. I don’t know how to respond to those in the trenches and keep myself from falling in. I want to help but, honestly, my life revolves around my son right now and the stuff that isn’t about him is pretty boring. So if I’m not complaining about work (seriously, who wants to read that all the time?), I’m talking about the awesomeness that is O. Which seems like a kick in the face to those that are having these terrible, terrible fucking times.
So I hide from it. I pop on Twitter, click some hearts to show I’m there (it’s my virtual hug). But I can’t bring myself to post much. And I really hate that. I want to be supportive, I do.
But hearing about the loss triggers my anxiety, my intrusive thoughts. Thoughts about losing my son, about horrible car accidents or falling down the stairs or any other number of horrible things. It’s not good for me, for him, or for my family for me to feel bogged down with them. Medication is helping, for sure, but the triggers are there and we all know about self-protection from triggers.
So I hide from it, as if it’s a physical being that can snatch him away.
The boogey monster for adults: The Sad.