There’s a scene in Julie & Julia where Julia Child reads in a letter that her sister is expecting. She starts to weep and says, “I’m happy for her. I’m happy, I’m happy …”
It’s a weird place to be, the land of infertility. You can be happy for others, while simultaneously sad for yourself. It’s odd. That’s not the right word, but I can’t think of a better one. I often can’t think of the right thing to say about any of this.
The emotional pain of losing a pregnancy happens in stages. My first post-loss hard stage happened in mid-summer, when other Feb 2010 mamas were heading into the second trimester and were publicly announcing their pregnancies. The next stage is now: the sex-of-the-baby announcements. I saw three today, between Twitter and Facebook. (Two girls and a boy, for the record.)
You’re happy — so happy — but still so sad for yourself.
Most days I’m fine. Some days I barely think about it at all. I will always carry the loss in my heart; but what I am struggling with most now is the unknown.
I just want to know — is it ever going to happen or is it not? Because if it’s not, I just want to know. I’ll be okay — we’ll be okay — either way. Of this I have no doubt. But getting to that place, it just sometimes feels like too much.
I read the other day that ectopic pregnancies occur in less than 1 percent of pregnancies. Less than 1 percent. But yet, thanks to the web, I talked with several women who also had ectopic pregnancies. And like Dr. Cox once said on Scrubs – statistics don’t mean anything to the patient. Because that less than 1 percent statistic happened to me. Trouble trying to conceive — as rare as it supposedly is — is happening to me. Statistics mean nothing.
The only thing I can think of to say, in navigating this land, is “it is what it is.” It’s something that we say a lot, because what else is there to say? It is what it is.