women having transfers on February 6th and I can confidently say that your embryos would have been better off being transferred into any of them. You see, I haven’t carried a baby to term since 1994. Your baby will be my third C-section. The risks with a fourth C-section are significant. This situation has left me beyond screwed.
The hardest thing about this is the mental torture that I put myself through regarding having to let this baby go. He is in me. I’ve been praying for this baby long before we knew he was coming. He will give me heartburn, varicose veins, stretch marks, and tears at the dumbest things. I am crabby with my husband, and intimacy is off-limits for the duration. The idea that I have to go through all of that, and then hand the baby off to someone else in the delivery room is too much for me. We know we are doing the right thing. We know this is not your fault. It is just so hard.
I believe in God. I have a strong and devoted faith life. I do not believe that God sits up in heaven and decides who gets to struggle with cancer, and who gets to struggle with infertility, and who gets this tragedy and that blessing. I believe in random acts that affect people’s lives. I believe that my faith guides me in how to deal with the events that present themselves in my life. This event is giving me a challenge. I am searching for grace, and it’s hard to find right now.
I hate you sometimes. I hate you for wanting this child and assuming that we will happily hand it over. I hate you for assuming that this will be easy because it is not a twin pregnancy. I hate you for assuming that our situations are the same. They are so different. A year from now you will be cuddling your new baby. We, on the other hand, will be dealing with the wreckage left in the aftermath of this disaster. Still waiting, and wondering if we have a chance for our dream and wondering if there is any hope left. I especially hate you for insinuating that God did this. That God decided that this would happen and that “another woman would carry this baby for you.” Do you think God thinks I deserve this? Do you think God decided to put my family through this? There is no way God did this. God would not have chosen me. I am not strong enough. I am not loving enough. I am not patient enough. No, God did not do this. In fact, I’m pretty sure an inexcusably distracted medical professional did this…not God.
I am just so scared. I am scared that you think I am nothing and that I am undeserving of your sensitivity and respect. I am afraid that you will hurt me, take this child, and leave me with nothing. I am scared of losing this baby. I already love him. I will always love him. I hope you understand that.
I know I will never send this letter. I know you don’t deserve my anger, my ugliness, or my hatred. So it is better right now for me to say nothing, and pray for strength, patience, and love, because the only way I think I can survive this is to learn to like you. I need to be happy for you and your family. I truly don’t know if I have that in me and a lot of this will depend on you. I guess time will tell.
Carolyn
I finished writing, reviewed what I wrote, and was ashamed. I knew I was being irrational and harsh, but as I reread my letter, over and over again, I knew it captured my anguish. And I felt better just getting it down on paper.
I flipped my laptop closed and prayed to God for help.
Please, God, help me be stronger. Help me find the strength I need to accept this situation. Help me endure this suffering with grace, and help me understand why this happened. Please, God, help me. Please.
C HAPTER 7
Keeping the Secret
CAROLYN
T HE NIGHT WE GOT HOME from Florida, I did something dumb. I read Shannon’s letter again. I don’t know why I felt I needed to do it. I was in bed thinking about the letter and the baby, and I started to cry. Was she that insensitive to the suffering we were enduring? If she was, how would she
The hardest thing about this is the mental torture that I put myself through regarding having to let this baby go. He is in me. I’ve been praying for this baby long before we knew he was coming. He will give me heartburn, varicose veins, stretch marks, and tears at the dumbest things. I am crabby with my husband, and intimacy is off-limits for the duration. The idea that I have to go through all of that, and then hand the baby off to someone else in the delivery room is too much for me. We know we are doing the right thing. We know this is not your fault. It is just so hard.
I believe in God. I have a strong and devoted faith life. I do not believe that God sits up in heaven and decides who gets to struggle with cancer, and who gets to struggle with infertility, and who gets this tragedy and that blessing. I believe in random acts that affect people’s lives. I believe that my faith guides me in how to deal with the events that present themselves in my life. This event is giving me a challenge. I am searching for grace, and it’s hard to find right now.
I hate you sometimes. I hate you for wanting this child and assuming that we will happily hand it over. I hate you for assuming that this will be easy because it is not a twin pregnancy. I hate you for assuming that our situations are the same. They are so different. A year from now you will be cuddling your new baby. We, on the other hand, will be dealing with the wreckage left in the aftermath of this disaster. Still waiting, and wondering if we have a chance for our dream and wondering if there is any hope left. I especially hate you for insinuating that God did this. That God decided that this would happen and that “another woman would carry this baby for you.” Do you think God thinks I deserve this? Do you think God decided to put my family through this? There is no way God did this. God would not have chosen me. I am not strong enough. I am not loving enough. I am not patient enough. No, God did not do this. In fact, I’m pretty sure an inexcusably distracted medical professional did this…not God.
I am just so scared. I am scared that you think I am nothing and that I am undeserving of your sensitivity and respect. I am afraid that you will hurt me, take this child, and leave me with nothing. I am scared of losing this baby. I already love him. I will always love him. I hope you understand that.
I know I will never send this letter. I know you don’t deserve my anger, my ugliness, or my hatred. So it is better right now for me to say nothing, and pray for strength, patience, and love, because the only way I think I can survive this is to learn to like you. I need to be happy for you and your family. I truly don’t know if I have that in me and a lot of this will depend on you. I guess time will tell.
Carolyn
I finished writing, reviewed what I wrote, and was ashamed. I knew I was being irrational and harsh, but as I reread my letter, over and over again, I knew it captured my anguish. And I felt better just getting it down on paper.
I flipped my laptop closed and prayed to God for help.
Please, God, help me be stronger. Help me find the strength I need to accept this situation. Help me endure this suffering with grace, and help me understand why this happened. Please, God, help me. Please.
C HAPTER 7
Keeping the Secret
CAROLYN
T HE NIGHT WE GOT HOME from Florida, I did something dumb. I read Shannon’s letter again. I don’t know why I felt I needed to do it. I was in bed thinking about the letter and the baby, and I started to cry. Was she that insensitive to the suffering we were enduring? If she was, how would she
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