The.Anger.Stage.

January 21, 2014

After everything went down, I was shocked that I wasn't angry.  The floods of sadness kept pouring in so strongly, unrelentlessly, that I truly believed that there was no more room for anything but stomach-killing sorrow.  Of course we have all heard it, the stages of grieving.  I never really went through denial-
maybe for a few hours when Brinly's water broke in October.  I didn't even realize pPROM was a condition and knew it wasn't great on the way to the ER but never ever did I imagine what the next 30 days would bring.

I pretty much skipped denial after I heard the diagnosis.  When you physically deliver a child and then do it all over again 20 days later, and then look that child straight in the face, there is absolutely not once inch of room for any type of denial.  Death is hard to deny.  The only shock I dealt with was going into labor with Jude.  I had somehow convinced myself he would make it even though my aching worrying heart told me otherwise.

A huge explosion occurred in our life on October 30 and then November 17th.  All I could do was hold on for dear life, cling to those around me, focus on breathing and surviving the overwhelmly heavy-wet blanket that feel onto me and glued itself to my very soul.  I thought that was it.  I prepared for months and months of sadness.

But now, 9 weeks later, the dust has settled, the smoke has risen, and now I can see it.  Destruction.  I can see the mess.  I'm fully conscience now and I am fully capable of taking in everything that just happened. And I. Am. Angry.

Darren and I have entered into a new stage where I am constantly trying to avoid triggers in this fragile state and where he is constantly trying to prevent me from running into triggers.  I don't have facebook.  My heart cannot bear to read pregnancy news, updates, and even attempts.  Ridiculous things like waiting in line to see Santa Claus in New York threw me to my bed crying for hours. I change the channel on baby commercials.  I was watching a behind the scenes "Bachelor" special and some past-winners "special" news left me rolling my eyes-this is not me.  This is not who I am.  But I'm harder now.

Today I made the mistake of reading some blogs with newer pregnancies.  I knew better.  It's just not a good mental choice for me right now.  But I did it thinking I was strong.  Words like "God is so faithful" and "I never thought I would be writing my own bump update" stirred up the anger I've been fighting.  Although I believe in my heart God truly is faithful, I don't feel it now, I don't see it.  I felt that way too the day I found out I was finally having a son AND daughter.  I felt so loved by God, so remembered.  So blessed.  So naïve about the "safe zone."  I too couldn't believe my blog had turned from entry after entry of trying and trying and finally I, Holly Lynn Benson, could post pictures of a growing stomach, of a gender reveal, of my plans.  Obviously beating infertility SHOULD be celebrated and I think it's wonderful to do updates and share great news-that is all our end goal in the infertility world-but in my broken state its a cruel reminder of something that was mine was physically torn from my body.

Sadness is so sad.  It makes your eyes get wrinkles and your hair turn gray.  It ages you.  I look more worn than I once did.  But anger?  That is a whole nother beast.  If not dealt with it rots your bones.  I accept anger is a stage and I plan to embrace it gracefully.  To give people the benefit of the doubt.  To attempt to rejoice with those who are rejoicing.  To NOT become bitter and cynical forever but to accept that anger is part of this.

Today I had to have an HSG done again (they fill the cervix with dye to make sure there was no damage).  It was horrible because my 'cervix' kept disappearing as the tech said.  They literally had 5 different things up my &$#%&$% and a 5 minute procedure took 45 minutes.  After 2 very bumpy attempt they had to call in a specialist.  It made me incredibly sore and incredibly sad-this is the first time I've seen an ultrasound with an empty womb since I last saw Jude kicking away when he was alive.  I held in the tears till the staff left the room.  In the car, it was one of the first times I prayed, but it was a crying, "why? how could you? what did I do? when will this end?  Where is the mercy and grace we sing about?

Here comes the vomit on blog.  I have to get it out.

1.  I'm mad because we have paid $24k+ in infertility treatments.  This is like paying for air.

2.  I'm mad because I will NEVER get to enjoy pregnancy if I ever carry again.  I will be horrified, paranoid, and doubtful.

3.  I'm mad because at church at a baby dedication the pastor read a verse about how "blessed" parents are to have kids.  Am I not blessed? 

4.  I'm mad because if I want to look at my child I have to go to a memory box that has pictures of his face instead of tiptoeing into his nursery to kiss him goodnight.,

5.  I'm mad because people have to tiptoe around me.  I cannot be normal and jump to host the next shower or talk diaper cream.  The only way I can relate to pregnant friends or new mommies is by talking about what I've experienced and that makes people feel awkward and possibly scared.

6.  I'm mad because I truly believed "this was it."  2 kids, done with infertility treatments forever.  Doing the stupid HSG today is exactly what I was doing this time one year ago. 

7.  I'm mad because no matter where I go, what I do, I am always aware of missing a part of myself.  I'm mad because at night the memories and flashbacks suddenly start playing the saddest movie I've ever seen in my head.

8.  I'm mad that 2 days ago I got excited because I got a package in the mail all to find out it was a box of formula and a "congrats new mom" package for babies that are buried.

9.  I'm mad that I happen to be 1 of 10 people that struggle with infertility.  I'm mad that we have both female and male factor infertility against us.  I'm mad I'm one of the 3% that has to pursue IVF.  I'm mad that after years of trying, we finally beat the dumb statistics all to fall into the .04% whose waters break at a deadly stage and my cervix is possibly incompetent.  SERIOUSLY?

10.  I'm mad that when the phone rings from a married friend that I immediately feel with dread that "maybe they are pregnant" and panic.  (Please note I get this is not right, I'm just being incredibly honest.  I get over it really quick).

11.  I'm mad that I struggle praying.  I don't want to be a whiny "Christian" that gets hard-hearted and bitter towards God because He does something I cannot understand; however, after years of unanswered prayers I'm at a place where I accept that He is going to do what He is going to do.  My faith is more raw and I'm more "scared" of the huge amount of pain and sorrow that this world is capable of offering to Christians and non-Christians alike.  As we move forward with future efforts to build our family, I more of the mentally of "buckling up my seatbelt" and seeing what His plans are. 

Alright.  That's off my chest.

I know anger is natural and as mentioned, I was warned it would come.  The crappy thing about grief is I've heard it comes in cycles.  I know time helps heal and I KNOW that moving forward in the fight for Jude and Brinly's siblings is the best I can do to cope and allow myself to hope again.

Through all the pain, sadness, anger, and destruction there have been a few beautiful people placed in our lives that have reached out and helped us realize we are not alone and have given us that glimmer to keep on hoping.  I have to cling to that, accept the fact that life is unfair and I'm one of her victims.  To rejoice in the beautiful life I've been given outside this stupid fertility category.  But for today, I'm mad.