I don’t hate you; because to hate you would mean writing you out of my life completely. And I simply will not do that.
However I am guilty of other sins. Envy. Guilt. Complacency. And for that, I am truly sorry for.
I am hurting. And the only way I have found comfort in this pain is to write exactly how I feel. As it is the same for you, I cannot speak of such pain. And to verbally tell someone of such emotions, truly makes me feel like I’m an idiot for feeling such things.
Because what right do I have to feel this way? Am I not blessed to have a relatively good (but stressful as of late) career? Do I not consider myself lucky to have found my soulmate so early in life? Am I not happy that I still have the love and support of a husband who I can turn to in such times of deep sorrow and pain?
For that, and so much more … it seems pitiful to “complain” about how I feel. So writing … yes writing … has been my only solace. It’s my only way to let others, who would otherwise not feel comfortable discussing such pain, know how I feel. My way of voicing those things I cannot say out loud. My only way to save face, so I don’t look like a complete sniveling doofus in the midst of everyone elses’ happiness. Because I don’t want to shove aside anyone else’s happiness. And yes, this includes yours.
My wish is that my writing allows for those friends … those family members … to understand what both Hubby & I are going through. It’s so that you and others can know what it’s like to walk in our shoes. Because infertility is not a topic that anybody wants or likes to discuss. It’s awkward. And quite frankly, it has been my experience that not many people make the effort to ask us directly how we’re dealing with it and (more importantly) what is appropriate and not-so-appropriate to say to us.
So yes, I admit it … I probably do set myself up for the fall. But I’d really like to have some words or action … some indication, if you must know … that there is a safety net below. That there will be someone there, other than my husband, to catch me. Because what I say in this blog is my way of letting you in.
I wish that everyone would understand that it is very difficult to just “let it go.” And to know that it isn’t so easy to “just adopt.” That to me, not being able to have my own kids is more than the ability to become pregnant. That not being able to form a life out of the love that my husband and I have for each other is THE ONE THING that hurts me beyond anything in this world.
It is incredibly painful to me that I won’t be able to pass on my Filipino nose or my larg(er) ba-dunk-a-dunk to my child. Or that my child won’t have the lifeline palm or the short big toe, signature to each and every one of Hubby’s family members. And most importantly, I’m tremendously heartbroken that I am not able give this gift of life and love to my husband, my parents, my brother … and yes, to you and my niece and nephew. And that I failed miserably in life because of that.
So please tell me, as I have obviously not been able to move on … how do I get over my hardships and heartache? How do I mourn not receiving the one gift in a woman’s life that I’m not obviously meant to experience?
Because I do want to take that next step forward. And I do want to stop feeling so miserable about the predicament I’m in. But … unlike you, who was able to ease your heartache with another pregnancy … (and please note that I said “ease” and not “forget”) there is no “Get out of Jail Free” card for me. There is simply NO EASY SOLUTION for me.
I am honestly and truthfully happy for you. And I’m happy and proud that you have been strong enough to survive all of your struggles and heartaches you’ve experienced. And that you’ve been given multiple second chances in life.
But I … right now, I choose to keep the one chance I have in my life because I love my husband and I love all the other things that I have accomplished in this one life thus far. And I’m simply just not ready to let it go right now.
Because at this moment, moving forward to that next step of adoption … my second chance in life, if you will … would mean that I have to give up those certain dreams that I have wanted so desperately in my life. It means I have to, once again, lose control of my life when I just got some semblance of order.
It means I have to find the strength and courage, both of which I have very little of right now, to start a new dream.
19 Replies to “I Don't Hate You”
Oh Emily. I am so sorry there is friction. It can be hard for others to understand how hard this all it. I love love love my SIL and all her kids, but there are still moments where I feel hateful about her ability to conceive. I hope this post helps your SIL understand the difference between being happy for someone and rightly feeling sorry for yourself.
I’m sorry. You have raised hard questions, and you have raised them so beautifully. You have poured your heart out, and I hope that was helpful and healing. Sometimes, I find for me, just writing everything out allows me to look at things and better assess where I am.
I don’t have any advice to give, I don’t have much of anything. But I believe that there are always answers to those who seek.
Praying you find your direction.
it’s so difficult dealing with the family love sometimes. I completely get where you’re coming from. adoption can be a beautiful thing, but it comes from loss for everyone involved, and it is not easy. wishing you the strength you need to get through whatever your next step may be…
Just wanted you to know that there’s one more person out here that heard your words, and that understands the pain, and the love, that brought them on.
I hope you and your family find some resolution, and that this post opens the door to some healthy communication.
I’m so sorry for the pain you are in and I understand as well. My DH is from a very large family and to watch everyone easily grow their families is very difficult for me, even though we do have one child from IF treatments. The older she gets (she’s almost 8 years now), the more my pain increases at not being able to give her a sibling or my husband another daughter or a son. I try to find consolation in the same things you do – my wonderful marriage of almost 14 years. Lots of (((hugs))).
Oh Emily – I am so sorry that you have to be feeling this. Only know that I still think of you often even if I haven’t been commenting all the time – and I keep you in my prayers – lots of hugs…
hugs. i feel the same way.
i can’t close that door yet. somehow, i just can’t.
Beautifully said, Emily. I hope that they get the message and learn to respect and even love your struggle. You’re a brave woman with a lot of heart and soul to be able to express this all so clearly.
This is such a wonderful post. It is so hard to talk about infertility and its effects with people who have children. They just do not get it, or they do not want to talk about it. I hear you and I understand where you are coming from.
wow, what a tough post. more than anything–i want you to know that *this* isn’t meant. nor is cancer, heartache, miscarraiges…none of it. okay?
i used to want to slap people when they told me to ‘just adopt.’ what the f does THAT mean?? why don’t they *judt* shut the f up.
adoption is amazing, it is a wonderful thing—but it is NOT the same. it is it’s own joy. it’s own wonder.
when we were adopting, i had to mourn the loss of a bio child. and it took a long time. months. and honestly, when you become a mother, though you will be overjoyed, i think you’ll still hvae a sense of loss, it just won[‘t be as raw.
i am sorry that you are here. it is not an easy place to be. i remember crying and crying. and drinking. it sucks, but it won’t last forever. it won’t.
don’t hate me –but if you choose to pursue adoption, i can’t wait to be along for the ride. you’re going to be a great mom, albeit not in the way you would have chosen.
**i hope it is ok that i posted. i know that i narrowly escaped what you are going through. i debated on not saying anything-but i know you know me well enouigh at this point to know that i am a good kid who means well.
This is a really moving post. As hard as people try to understand, it is impossible unless they’re in it.
I have been such a poor blogger reader of late — but in part that’s because my own brother had a child in July and it threw me for more of a loop than I expected — and for much of the same reasons you write of here…people just don’t have any idea unless they have been through it…and even then somehow once they’ve achieved ‘success’ — even they sometimes forget.
I so get it Emily.
First, I’am so sorry for the pain you are feelilng right now with this new addition to your family. You know through our conversations that I share many of your above mentioned feelings and our common thread of infertility has provided us with this sort of family – a group made from blogging friends.
I looked for support within my circle of close IRL friends and family and was unable to find the understanding that has come from our little community here. The IF community in blogland has provided me a sense of emotional comfort not found elsewhere.
My love to you sweeite and here is a hug from me to you. Now let’s plan this Vegas thing, shall we?
I’m reading this with big alligator tears rolling down my face. I wish all my girlfriends (especially those pregnant and don’t understand why I’m not thrilled for them or don’t want to attend their baby showers) would read this. And then my family, and my in-laws. It should be required reading for everyone! Thank-you for sharing and for being so wide-open with your feelings.
You strike at emotions I have felt, too.
Wow Emily. FABULOUS.
You said, “Because what I say in this blog is my way of letting you in.”
Wow… Dead on. I wish more people would understand that, and failing that.. I wish I could express it better.
p.s. From Creme
Here from La creme. I know exactly how you feel – I’ve been waiting over a year to “just adopt” after years of trying to have my own and it’s not easy at all. The process of doing a homestudy does create more grief. That yearning, it doesn’t go away, I’m afraid. There are days when the hole in your heart is manageable and other days it threatens to swallow you whole. Just thought I’d let you know that you weren’t alone.