I have several drafts I’m working on about our infertility struggles — or what I sometimes refer to as What to Expect when You’re Expecting to be Expecting. (Don’t steal my book title, haha!)
I’m just dashing this off before I head to The Beanhouse to say that when I write of these things, I’m writing of how I felt in the past. Sure, it’s the fairly recent past, but I don’t feel quite that same way now. No one can live in that intensity of grief for too long and LIVE. You can’t. You move on, out of sheer exhaustion, if nothing else. At some point, there becomes no choice. You must. Living any kind of life DEMANDS it.
So maybe it’s like the difference between a sound — a loud sound — like a gong — and the echo of that sound. I’m living in the echo. It’s not so fresh. It’s not the same constant clamor. It’s no longer those waves that seemed to drag through my entire body. No. Now, it’s the echo. I still can hear it. I still can feel it. But it’s more quiet, less intense; more manageable, less insistent.
But accessing those feelings isn’t hard at all. For the rest of my life, it will probably never be hard, even if it’s not fresh.
So again, PLEASE don’t feel you must say you’re sorry. I know you are.
I really, really do.
Excellent book title! You know I’m watching the shelves for it!
You know why we say sorry, don’t you? Because we so badly want to respond and can’t find any other words.
An echo is the perfect description…perfect!
Oh, I know, Lyn, I know! I do. It’s just the kindness of people’s hearts.
you know how you inadvertently stumble into parts of the Net, for no particular reason? A few years ago, I wandered from somewhere into a whole linkage of infertility blogs. One constant subject was the incredibly tactless and painful remarks people feel compelled to make in this situation.
It seemed that a simple “I’m sorry” was about the only acceptable thing to say.
And even that was too hard to hear, sometimes.
So even if we don’t say it, you know we think it – but none of the other stupid, stupid stuff some people come up with.
We’re hear to listen to whatever you want to say.
what should we say?
i struggle to swallow down what can only be sorrow for you. my heart aches and i know that it is only a fraction of what you must feel. but really, what should we say? what is acceptable? nothing?
That’s a fair question, AS. Saying nothing is acceptable. I always think, too, as bloggers if someone likes a post or is moved by it or whatever, we don’t mind hearing that, right? Part of my goal here is to bring better understanding of what an infertile couple goes through; it’s all so hush-hush, mostly. So if anything I write is illuminating on that front, I wouldn’t mind hearing that.
I just know that for me — and other people I know who’ve gone through this — the “I’m sorry” thing is …. delicate, somehow. The woman, especially, hears it constantly. And I think women start to feel that people feel sorry FOR them; that there is pity, I guess, and that is … hard. You feel separate all over again.
I hope this helps, AS. That is a good, fair question. Thank you.
Tracey, I think you summarized the “I’m Sorry” thing beautifully.
I have three step sons, but no biological children, as my husband and I have been unable to have any together. Largely, we have been “okay” with that…it hasn’t been as difficult and painful as it is for most, because we have the boys.
But anyway…my point is, the thing I don’t like is when people hear this and say “Oh, I’m sorry” in that tone that tells me they feel bad that I am somehow a lesser person for not having experienced what they have experienced. It is hurtful, and I know they don’t mean it to be, but it still is. “You feel separate all over again.” That is the perfect explanation.
So thanks for understanding if I (and others) say nothing. I am reading, and having a heartfelt reaction, but I know sometimes there is nothing to say.
I have never thought of it that way, ladies. I am so thankful that you shared this.
When I said “I’m sorry” I never thought for a minute it could come across that I thought you were lesser for not experiencing something I had…I truly was sorry for the pain involved in wanting and yearning something that was not granted, and the ache that comes with empty arms and full hearts.
I am sorry for the countless children who grow up in loveless homes, abused, neglected, unloved…born to baby factories that have no more love in their hearts than a machine…yet have the physical capacity to keep having child after child at the expense of the state.
I am sorry for the children who are deemed “unworthy” to be even born, whose little lives are cut short because someone has convinced the mother that it’s not really life…while those with full hearts and empty arms pine away for the positive pregnancy test, and the first signs of new life inside their wombs.
I’m so sorry…that those three words fall so short of saying what I really meant in the first place.
Most of all, I’m sorry I can’t just be there to offer a shoulder and a real life hug.
Oh, Lyn, I know what you meant. I do — and I did! But thank you for being so sensitive.
I knew you did, Tracey…but I want to be sensitive to others who might not…kwim? That is why I am so glad you guys could articulate it all as well as you did. Having never walked that road, I honestly had never ever thought of it in those terms before.