My husband and I had a fight this last weekend. It wasn't really a fight, so much as a strained conversation.
My husband didn't want me to blog anymore.
Okay, now I am exaggerating. He doesn't mind if I post, he doesn't mind if I get comments, he even doesn't mind if I go on to other "happy" people's blogs and read their "happy" stories. But what he doesn't like - and what I can't prevent so long as I am blogging in an infertility world, is that occasionally, I am going to run into some sad stories. There are a lot of stories out there. We were all following along with Mary Ellen when she lost the triplets. Even if you hadn't been a regular reader, the candles were everywhere, and you knew about it. I sobbed that night and told my husband all about it. Just as I cried in his arms when Maria got her negative beta, or Baby Molly's cardiologist said that things weren't looking good.
I also cry when cycles fail, betas don't double, heartbeats stop beating, or babies are born still. Even though these things are arguably "dfferent," they are all part of the loss and heartbreak that is infertility. I can't help it. I hurt when I read these announcements, as I am sure that you all do, too.
My husband wants to look forward. He doesn't want to look back on the past. He said that my blogging and telling him about the sad stories makes him worry for the future. Okay, I reasoned, I just wouldn't tell him. Yeah, right. My red rimmed eyes and hiccups make him think something is wrong with the baby, "It's nothing" doesn't suffice, so I either have to A) lie or B) tell him about the tragedy that I read on today's Lost and Found. And of course I have to go over and comment! I think about all of the wonderful people that have made their way here, picking me up on days when I thought I couldn't go on, holding Hope for me when I just couldn't do it any more. Comments keep me going and I think it's only right to give back to the community that has given me so much.
And even if no one commented ever, it is still very cathartic for me to write here. I have so many thoughts in my head, and no one in real life wants to hear them. I fear for this pregnancy every single day. It is rational? Probably not. But given what we have been through, I think that I have the right to the occasional or even every day fear, if I want. But like in all other aspects of our journey through the valley of infertility, no one wants to hear my dead baby thoughts. They think I am being negative. One friend said to me recently, "Don't worry until you have something to worry about." Another said that I needed to only share my "positive" thoughts with her because she thought my worries were "silly." I know they care, I know they mean well, but people, please. I tried that with Gummy Bear (and actually all of the pregnancies before that) and look what happened.
I think the very worst thing for me about losing that pregnancy was what a fool I felt like the day the ultrasound showed no heartbeat. How could I not have known my baby died? What type of a mother does not know that her own child, residing within her own body, has passed away? What kind of mother took fifteen minutes of the doctor's time asking about morning sickness when her baby was dead? I never want to be taken off guard like that again. I know it's stupid, I know there is no preparation for bad news. But I never want to have my heart flayed open like that, with no warning, in front of two kind but virtual strangers. So, I read my blogs, I hear about what can happen and I guard my heart just a little bit. And I'd like to think that maybe, just maybe, the support that I give to others helps if only in the smallest of ways. I like those grieving to know that they are not alone, even if it is a stranger on the other side of a tangled world wide web.
I do have positive thoughts about this pregnancy, but I am also scared. I love this baby so much, I can't imagine losing it. And yet the unimagineable has happened to us before, and I see it happen to others every day. Good people. Caring people. It's not like if I just sit here, think positively and be nice to everyone, my baby will be born healthy. I really don't believe that negative thoughts will harm the baby - if they did, I would have miscarried this pregnancy at week 5. Of course, my happy thoughts are coming more and more, and you would think by the cheesy grin pasted on my face that we had won the lottery - and in a way, we did in the baby lottery of life. But I still have my moments. And it is so good to come here and have the understanding of this community. The love and support that I can actually feel sustains me.
But my husband does not think this is healthy for me. And he does not like it being imposed on him.
Now, don't worry. I have not been asked to give up blogging. I have just been asked to focus on the more positive side and try not to share when I come across the sad stories. I am not sure how easy/realistic it will be. However, this is part of the reason why I decided on becoming a Clicker. In all honesty, I really wanted to be the Clicker for Pregnancy Loss, but I decided to be more positive and ended up with Pregnancy After Infertility or Loss. And it was quite inspiring to go through that long list and see all of those positive stories. This is another reason why I started my side bar of Celebrations. To remind myself and maybe even a few of you of all the good that does happen, even to those of us that have been kicked in the gut so many times we don't even know how to breathe anymore.
Have any of you had similar conflicts with blogging and your husbands or other family and friends? How do you handle both the happiness and sadness that resides here?