I didn’t realize how hard this would be.  It never occurred to me that my “cycle buddies” would end up pregnant and I wouldn’t.  (And for those of you in the same position as me, I’m sorry.  This sucks.)  The vast majority of bloggers in my reader are either pregnant or parenting, and I’m still stuck.  More so now that we’ve completed the most medically advanced treatment cycle we could possibly undergo–which failed–and currently have no means to try again.

It’s hard to read, harder yet to comment on, certain blogs.  I know I don’t have to explain it.  I know each of you has been here before.

When I was a kid, I got really good at hiding my feelings.  I’m not sure how or why I did it, but I refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me cry.  My older brother used to torment me and Zappa, but I could tell it was much more fun for him to pick on her because of the reaction he got.  She wailed, screamed, panicked.  He used to hold his hand over her nose and mouth while she writhed and tried to wiggle away.  Then he’d remove his hand and say, “She almost passed out that time.  Let’s try it again!”  Yeah, he was kind of a dick.

He knew how to get to me, though.  He knew my insecurities, and that I’d become more upset at a comment about my huge feet or my prominent schnoz than any physical torture he could come up with.  But when I got mad, it was the silent treatment, clenched jaw, holding all my anger inside.

Even when I was bullied in school, the occasions that brought me to tears were rare.  I would cry about it to my mom when I got home, but school was not the place I wanted to garner a reputation as a cry-baby, as well as a big fat nerd.

Over the years, my sister and I somehow switched roles.  Blame it on the hormones or the stress, but I can cry at the drop of a hat now.  So far, I’ve cried in every single therapy session with Dr. N, a relative stranger.  Zappa, on the other hand, wouldn’t cry in front of anyone but me, even at our mother’s funeral, where it was perfectly acceptable–even expected.

I think, at different times in our lives, regardless of what we’re feeling, we’ve been alternately influenced by my mother’s penchant for drama and my father’s stoicism.  She used to yell and scream and cry at my dad for whatever wrongs he’d committed, bit or small, while he calmly apologized but never raised his voice in return.  Which just made her yell more.  There was one time in particular–and I don’t think she ever knew that we overheard it–when she was on a tirade, while my sister and I sat unseen on the stairs, and she said to my father, “If it wasn’t for those little girls upstairs, I would have left a long time ago.”  Part of me knows it was said just for the drama, and I was never meant to hear it.  But still….

In this community, there are occasions that come up, every once in a while, that make me feel like that little girl on the stairs.  When the big blow-ups happen, I don’t get involved in the discussion, I just sit quietly and observe the fallout, waiting for the storm to blow over.

But what I feel now is different.  This isn’t me excusing myself from one conversation.  This is me hiding out from all of them.  I want to reach out.  I want to offer comfort and support.  I want to cheer along with good news.  But I freeze.  The words won’t come.  And if they do, they feel hollow.

I’m not taking a break.  I’m still here.  I’m still reading (for the most part), and I feel like I need to write now more than ever.  Please know that my absence of comments is not reflective of my actual absence.  It’s just too hard for me to find the words right now.  I hope they’ll return soon.  The last thing I want is for my grief to make anyone else feel abandoned.  Maybe this is me being too sensitive again.  Maybe you haven’t even noticed my lack of commenting.  But in case you have, I just wanted to say, I’m here.


24 thoughts on “Sensitive

  1. I experienced something very similar following each failed cycle & miscarriage in correlation with waves of good news. There were moments I wondered if I belonged to this community, especially as others moving on. I think taking a step back and healing is very natural. That said, you still are very much a part of this community. Even if you don’t feel like there’s much to say at the moment.

    Take the time you need. When you’re ready, you’ll find that you’re ready to write again. In the meantime, focus on you and Hubs. Focus on healing.

  2. My first bunch of cycle buddies all got preggers, too. I know wht you mean – feeling adrift in a whole new way. Hell, I still do. It’s a new level of grief to realize that you’ve got to stay on this road even longer.

    For my part, I will remember that you’re reading, even if you don’t comment. Please take care of yourself; we will keep a candle lit.

  3. I know exactly how you feel. I’ve been there, and it’s so hard feeling alienated from the community you come to for solace from the alienation of the fertile world.

    The good thing about all of this, though, is that no one will judge you for taking care of yourself and doing what you need to. I’m here for you, just like you’ve been there for me.

    Keep writing. I’ll keep reading.

    Big hugs.

  4. I noticed you weren’t commenting as much but I understand. It’s hard and it sucks. Do what you need to do to survive. I’ll be here supporting you and cheering you on.

  5. Took the words right out of my mouth. This is the first thing I can bring myself to comment on since yesterday. Possibly for a while. Room on the stairs for two?

  6. The way you’re feeling right now is completely understandable. It’s okay if you just don’t have the heart to comment (or read) right now…who could blame you? I’ve had the same reaction many times in the past. I just hope you’re taking care of yourself right now; that’s what really matters.

  7. I think we have all been there and can relate to how you are feeling. Take the time you need and we will be here for you when you are ready. Take care of yourself and your feelings however you need to.

  8. Oh, gosh, I so remember that exact feeling. It’s this weird space where I wanted to be happy for someone but I also wanted them to understand my misery, all the while knowing that they couldn’t.

    Try to remember that You Will Be Happy. Really, you will. Not today, no way, but soon.

    For now, it’s okay to stay on the stairs. Sometimes, we just have to sit back and let the madness happen all around us.

  9. This is why I have never been into cycle buddies – because some of us have success, and some of us don’t. I went through enough failures our first time around (took 2 IVF and 1 FET cycles) that when it came time for #2, I KNEW I wasn’t going to have cycle buddies. I had to do what I needed to do to keep myself sane. I avoided blogs of others who were cycling at the same time. I totally get how you’re feeling – I think it’s normal and expected. No matter how much we cheer each other on, no one wants to be the one left behind. I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way 😦

  10. Just linked over from Aramis’ blog. Your post was very fitting for me, and eloquently said what I am feeling too. I haven’t blogged in two weeks because I’m just numb from some recent news we’ve gotten in our journey to have a baby, despite dismal counts, motility, and morphology with my husband. I am not super connected in with other infertility bloggers, but sometimes I just need to step back from blogging in general. I still write. I just can’t put it all out there on a public forum. It’s too hard.

  11. I don’t think we ever need to apologize for being absent. We all have our own reasons. When my “cycle buddies” or just the bloggers that I followed got pregnant one after another and brought home their babies, it just made me feel like there was just another “club” I wasn’t a part of. Take care of you.

  12. Daryl I have been thinking of you every day and while it’s good to hear your voice here, there is no need to apologize for your quietness on other blogs right now. I think you’re doing remarkably. Nearly three years on, I still struggle witrh that ‘left behind’ feeling, and it sucks because in addition to the disappointment it also leaves you feeling outside all the happiness and hope that come with each piece of good news, when all you want is to feel joy for others AND for yourself. It’s all so twisted and confusing. I understand friend. Sending so much love your way.

  13. I’m sorry you’re in the position you’re in 😦 but I would think you need space and time to let your heart grieve. If it makes you feel any better, I’m stil here too! As infertile as ever! Ha

  14. I know how you feel. More of my cycle buddies than not got pregnant last month on the PVED forum. And many of the girls who did IVF at the same time as me in February are also pregnant. I just try to only read and comment on their blogs when I am up for it. Otherwise I know I need to protect myself and avoid them

  15. Beautifully written and well understood.

    Being sensitive is a ok in my book- especially with all of this. I too at times-just don’t have the words to write, even when I have so many to share. I just can’t. You have been through so much. Take all the time you need.

  16. You do exactly what you need to do…nothing more and nothing less. There are no expectations of you and no hard feelings when you choose to stay in the background…not from me, and I hope not from the others either. I’m abiding with you in this. My heart breaks for you, and I wish healing and peace for you.

  17. Oh, Daryl. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. You have every right to feel whatever it is you need to feel. What you’ve had to go through is more than most will, it’s unfair, it’s HARD. Sending you lots of love and shaking both my fists at the Universe to cut you a break already.

  18. Oh how I understand, because I have been right there, where you are, time and time again. And seeing one after another get pregnant and go on having their precious baby is hard, when being left behind. Take the time you need, and please don’t feel like you have to apologize or explain yourself. I get it. In the meantime, know that so many are thinking about you and wishing you the best. Sometimes we need to take a step back, and that’s ok.

  19. I know all too well how you feel. I don’t “buddy up” anymore, because I’m always left behind. I’m a free agent now! Not that it matters. Take care of yourself.

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