Warning: Sensitive info here about miscarriage and loss. Please don't read if you think it will upset you. It might. I got a text Friday morning from one of our dearest friends. "Call me. Its important."
And so I did. And that's when I learned that he and his partner (who also happens to be hubby's cousin) would most likely be meeting at the emergency room in a few hours. They feared she had a miscarriage the night before. They were right.
This has consumed our weekend. Long talks with our friend, who at 40, was shocked, then thrilled, then absolutely thrilled at the prospect of becoming a father for the first time. The pregnancy was not planned, but not unwanted. The pregnancy and miscarriage has left them both reeling, uncertain of their next steps or of their future together. I am just sad. So sad.
While some of this is not really my story to tell, hubby and I are inextricably linked to it. He is one of our very best friends; she is a blood relative. We introduced them. We watched him as he pined for her from afar. We made it a point to include them both in group outings to give her more confidence in him. One day, they went out without us. For months, we heard little from them, which we interpreted as a good sign. And it was. They were falling in love and making plans to be together in a permanent kind of way.
Then, the bomb dropped. "We are expecting!" I cried. Happy tears, I think. I was so moved by the idea that two people in love really could create another. What a fucking concept, hey?
We helped them move into their new place together, I looked through baby books with her. But I think both hubby and I could sense that things seemed to be moving way too fast for these people who are both notoriously independent and self-reliant. While we had our doubts about their future
together together, there were no doubts that the baby was wanted.
But things happen. She began to spot, then bleed, then cramp, then....
And before you know it, our friend is calling at midnight, after hours at the ER with a simple message: "We lost the baby." He cried. I cried. In fact, I have had a hard time not crying all weekend.
Why am I feeling this loss - which is not my loss - so acutely? Because I love my friends? Yes, of course, that's some of it. But it doesn't explain it all, I think.
He called me yesterday to apologize profusely about the midnight call. Hubby filled him in on our situation when he told us theirs. He woke up thinking that he had upset me terribly talking about the miscarriage. God love him. His world is falling apart and he is worried about hurting my feelings. I reassured him that he had done nothing of the sort.
But still, my heart is breaking.
I think because a miscarriage is my greatest fear. When I think of "worse case scenario" in this adventure - that is it. Not a bad retrieval. Not no embryos to freeze. Not a failed transfer. Not even a BFN (big fat negative). I fear a successful transfer that results in a miscarriage. Because then the loss is real.
Please understand. Up until the point where my womb is occupied, pregnancy, motherhood, all of it, remain theoretical concepts to me.
Never in my adult life had I ever thought these were possible. Never. Even now after thousands of dollars have been charged, hormones injected, donors chosen, none of this is real for me. Because right now, I have nothing to lose. I am no worse off than when we started. We are no more childless than last year or the year before of the year before. Some of it is cognitive dissonance and a desire to stay sane, stay functional, not get too excited about the possibility. But this is all a pre-pregnancy state of mind.
When hubby and I first discussed donor eggs, I was so wary. And this was the reason:
what if it works and then it doesn't? Then, I think, I will be worse off than when we started.
I know so many of you have already experienced this loss, have mourned like my friends are mourning. I hope I haven't offended anyone with my post. I just want you to know that in this moment, I am just a little bit scared of the future.
