Fall on your knees

I had a thought yesterday and it almost brought me to my knees: I may never experience a full pregnancy.

It was while I was on Facebook, aka The Devil, and I was reading through my 'friends' posts and one of them was going to the doctor to have an ultrasound and it hit me like a freaking ton of bricks. I may never see that breathtaking flicker of a heartbeat on the ultrasound screen. I may never have that euphoric feeling of "this is the moment we find out if we're having a daughter or a son." I may never feel our child move within my womb. I may never get past week 12. I may never get to wear maternity clothes, or make a pregnancy announcement. I may never get that far. And even if I do, what if I can't enjoy it because I'm so fearful of another devastating end? I already know that if I am blessed to get pregnant again, I'll be holding my breath at least through week 6, wondering if it's still alive, or if it's already passed on like our first. I remember that magical moment of seeing that plus sign, of shaking so uncontrollably with disbelief and elation, of Jason picking me up and twirling me around our bedroom, tears streaming down both of our faces. And I want to scream. I want to scream because it was taken away so suddenly, just as quickly as it came, and although it's such a shallow, hollow word, the only one I can think of is "unfair." The whole damn thing is so freaking unfair.

And cruel. The infertility "game" is so horribly, undeniably, unabashedly cruel. We have been on this journey since February of 2008, and I am so tired.of.it.all. I see my friends with their children, and I want to run away with my grief and hide until this hell is over. And I see our newlywed friends with their excitement about what's surely to come, and it takes every ounce of inner strength not to caution them against their optimism, because it's not always "first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage." Although it certainly seems that way for everyone else but us. And I see my yet-to-be-married friends and I don't know what to think because I remember being them, and I remember that care free feeling of "someday" and somehow, someday has gotten away from me and I can't find it anymore. And I don't want to ruin "someday" for them, too. Because the reality is, they'll probably be fine.

I might never carry a child to term. That's the sick reality. And that reality makes me want to simultaneously throw up and fall on my knees, curl up in a ball and let my fear and grief swallow me whole.