One Year Later

A year ago I was in 2WW hell, about to find out that I was pregnant. Looking at my posts from that period, I was much more in control and on top of things than I feel now, even though I remember vividly what a difficult time it was. I was propelled with the hope of what could be even though I was scared. Now that I've faced almost losing my life and all chances at having a normal child-bearing experience, I find I'm a very different person. I'm tired. I am so very grateful for my two babies, but I am so tired emotionally.

Things are getting better with the babies every day, but in some ways I know I'll never heal from this experience. I called my uberfertile former best friend last week, who just had her second unplanned baby. She joyfully recounted how easy the birthing process was. Four pushes and he was out! She complained about all the little sleeping noises and grunts he makes and matter-of-factly stated that she puts him on his stomach to sleep because he gets more rest that way. The poor thing is only 2 weeks old and she's putting him on his stomach to sleep. Um, hello, you do know about SIDS, right? She answers that she did this with her first baby and she survived.

Now when people ask me if I plan on having more kids, I simply answer that I can't. The chance of HELLP recurring is too high so the doctors have forbidden it. You wouldn't believe the pity I see on people's faces. It surprises me. I'm an infertile with no hope of treatment now, and knowing there's nothing I can do about it does give me an odd sense of calm. Granted, I'm still pissed off that I can't get pregnant like most women I know, but that desperate longing I once felt is gone. I've had my experience, and while it wasn't a smooth ride at the end, I got to feel what it's like to grow two little people. Now I just need to accept that I have a body that failed its job in delivering and feeding those two little people, and that jackasses like my former best friend will always make me feel the sting of the injustice of it all.