The End

As I sit here and write this, tears stream down my face. There has been a lot of that today. However, some of those tears are reserved for the overwhelming gratitude that I feel toward all of you who have shown nothing but support in both my time of immense joy and in my time of great sorrow. I truly feel the love emanating from every comment, email, text, and phone call that I have received today. And I have never been more happy or proud to be part of such an amazing community of women who stand together in the face of tragedy. Unfortunately, that tragedy is one we experience all too often as a community. To truly be able to empathize with another person whom you’ve never actually met is a rare and precious gift that few ever get to experience and I am lucky enough to have been touched by each and every one of you. And not just today, but every day.

When I first announced my pregnancy it was with great trepidation because I have been on your side many, many times. I know how hard it can be to read about another’s success when you are still in the trenches yourself. I know this because I have been there. You know this because you have been there. And this will forever unite us in a way that I would never wish on my worst enemy. The bittersweet camaraderie that I have established in this corner of the internet has changed me so much for the better and for that I will never be ungrateful.

Thank You.

Intermixed with my longing for yesterday (when everything was ok) is an overabundance of thankfulness for the amazing people that I am privileged to call friends and family. When we first broke the news of our pregnancy, some wondered why we would tell people so early. But I knew it was the right choice. Today, my feelings were validated tenfold by the outpouring of support and love that we have felt coming from every direction. Most of the time people don’t know what to say. I’m sorry? Is there anything I can do to help? I love you? And that, right there, those words, are all I ever needed to hear. To know that I am loved and supported. That we can just sit and cry and BE SAD together is more than enough for me. The intimacy of such a shared moment speaks volumes straight from the heart, so much more than words ever could. Language is limited in its ability to communicate feeling, emotion, empathy, and genuine concern, but actions are not. A hug and recognition of this struggle go so much further than a bottle of tequila ever could. Simply acknowledging my pain means more than a contrived explanation ever will.

I am so fortunate to have an abundance of people in my life who truly get this. And I heard from each and every one of them today. I don’t know how I could ever repay them for their compassion and tenderness. But, I guess that’s the beautiful part of true love–whether it be between parents, friends, or lovers–there is no need for compensation. The more love you give, the more you will receive. It’s very definition ensures that it will continue to multiply when given freely.

Then there is the man who stood by my side through all of this. The only person who could really ever come close to understanding my pain because this baby was also his. We were together for both conception and termination. No matter where life takes us from here, both of these actions can never be undone. Today he cried when I was too numb to do so. Today he let the sadness hang in the air and gave it the space that it deserved. Today he acknowledged what I have always known to be true: nothing in life is fair. And today he held my hand even when it was hard for him to do so. He let me feel everything that  I needed to feel and then he felt it right along side me. My partner in both love and loss, my strength in both light and darkness.

I suffered an insurmountable loss today. For 13 days I knew I was pregnant. I spent that previous 13 days falling more and more in love by the second with the life that was finally growing inside of me. Falling in love with the chance to hope and dream for the very thing that I was beginning to doubt would ever be mine. But alas, it was. It is. It will always be mine for however short I had it in my possession. Life has taught me that most things are fleeting and to hope for anything more is a futile endeavor. But this felt different. This felt like it was finally mine, to have forever. It felt like my chance. But I was wrong.

Some want to blame God. He would never give me more than I could handle and clearly I wasn’t ready to handle this. He has other, bigger and better, plans for me. Some want to blame science. I had no business messing with drugs and procedures that forced my body to do things that it would never do naturally. These are the risks that I signed up for and while the odds are always slim, there has to be an exception to every rule. Me and my baby are that exception.

But the truth of the matter is that there is no explanation. There is no reason why I am that 1% whose pregnancy is ectopic. There is no rhyme to the fact that I have been trying my damnedest to conceive for two years and that this is how the tragedy has unfolded. It’s just chance and luck, neither of which has ever been on my side.

I find myself wondering how it’s even possible to already miss something (someone?) that I knew for such a short period of time. How one can possibly become so attached to something (someone?) so intangible. I think it’s because I already knew her before she was even conceived. I have dreamed and fantasized and created her in my mind so long ago that it was really only a matter of time before my body caught up with my fantasy. When my body finally welcomed her into existence it was as if my mind could breathe of sigh of relief that she had finally found her home.

Tonight my home feels vacant and hollow. Her presence, one that was already so abstract, now feels like a ghost that will forever haunt my memory. My sweet love. The only child I have ever known.

• http://www.resolve.org/infertility101  (Basic understanding of the disease of infertility.)