War Buddies

The events of the past year and a half of my life have made me a pessimist. I have always leaned towards to pessimistic side of life, but now I openly claim to be a pessimist. I try to be optimistic but then life cuts me down a notch so I find pessimism to be safer. A defense mechanism, if you will.
I am not a happy person.
Funny, though. This new, sad me has met some of the best friends of my life over the last year. And they are all sad, like me. But together, we are happy, we have fun, we laugh because we know we're all in the same boat. Or, similar boats.
Dee lost her dad very unexpectedly. He was her best friend and closest confidant. He literally dropped dead in front of her.
B left his life behind on the west coast to start new here. He left behind a lot of baggage. A lot. I swear, sometimes I think he ripped off his life story from Days of Our Lives, or something.
Jer came home from work and found that his wife, his high school sweetheart, had moved all of her stuff out of their home with no warning. She served him divorce papers on his birthday.
Sometimes, when I go out with "regular people" it feels so forced. They are all so supremely happy, with their new babies and their perfect marriages and their intact families. But when I get together with this motley crew, it's genuine. There is no pity in their eyes when they look at me because their hell is just as real as mine. They don't judge if I snap for no apparent reason because little triggers set them off too. They don't hesitate to lend me a shoulder to cry on because they need a shoulder sometimes too.
It sucks that we all have these trials to deal with, but out of the muck and mire came these new friends. These are friendships forged in the heat of battle. We're there to carry each other out of the trenches and nurse each others wounds. We all cherish our own lives a little bit more, while at the same time hating every minute of them right now. No matter what happens from here on out, the memories of this painful time will always be with us, a black splotch in what I hope are otherwise bright lives.
Don't get me wrong, I still would rather be planning my child's first birthday party for the end of this month. I'd rather be agonizing over leaving my baby at daycare. I'd rather be a mom. I wish I didn't know this darkness. But, I'm glad that out of these clouds I've found a slice of sunshine. I'm glad I found some people to fight this battle with.

The Truth About Trying

I know I've said before, shortly after I joined the Recurrent Pregnant Loss club, that this blog wouldn't become an infertility blog. But, as I continued to lose pregnancies, my infertility became a huge part of my life as a stepmother. In fact, it nearly destroyed my relationship with my stepson, who I sometimes call "The Boy Who Lived." To raise a child whose mother is a complete wackadoo, who pretty much dropped him like a hot potato when she met a man, when you can't have your own children, is awful. It is truly a special kind of grief (and I know there are so many of you out there with me). When I look at The Kid, I get angry, even still. Why could she have a baby? Why does SHE get to be the mother of the man I love's child? What is wrong with me?
Locked inside my own head, I was losing it. I was tired of people asking when we were going to have kids. I was tired of people not acknowledging that for 7 months last year, I was pregnant. I was a mother. Three times. To three potential children. Who died. I wanted everyone to know what I have gone through. So I started telling them. I tried to move past the loneliness, the shame, and the sadness that reached to the core of my being.
It has been 16 months since we started trying to grow our family. In that time, I have lost three pregnancies and my mind. Now, I'm trying really hard to come back to me.
Today, I stumbled upon this project, The Truth About Trying, an infertility video series built from a partnership between Redbook Magazine and RESOLVE. The goal of the project is the end the stigma of shame and secrecy surrounding infertility, and to start a dialogue about the disease. Though there are many, many blogs out there that provide necessary and meaningful support to women in all walks of infertility and pregnancy loss, I've been hardpressed to find mainstream media that offers the same. I hope this project catches on and inspires women not to suffer in silence anymore. Because it's impossible to do it alone.
If you are struggling to build your family, or if you have friends who are struggling, I recommend checking this series out.

And Now I'm Back

Eight months ago, I pulled a disappearing act. Shortly after my second miscarriage, I just couldn't think of anything nice to say. It was better to say nothing at all. So I shut my blog down and retreated into a haze of anger, frustration, anxiety and depression.
Then I got pregnant again!
And then I miscarried...again.
3 miscarriages in 8 months, a live-in suicidal teenager and an unemployed husband made me just about as much fun as a vat of vomit.
A lot has transpired in the past 8 months. After I started to lose my mind, we worked out a custody situation where the brunt of The Kid's needs don't fall on me. We now have him every other week, Saturday to Saturday, so at least I have two weeks a month where I can pretend I live a normal life. I don't pick him up from school unless it is convenient for me, I cook what I want to eat and let him go hungry if he says it's "disgusting," I don't assume extra responsibilities because his parents are too busy or too lazy. It's kind of amusing to watch my husband actually have to parent, and realize how much I was doing to accommodate his kid. He thanks me daily now (The Husband, not The Kid).
I have been officially labeled "infertile" by my many (many) doctors because I just can't seem to sustain a pregnancy. Despite months of testing, nothing appears wrong with me and they all keep telling me to just try again. In the words of my former doc, Dr. Douchebag, "You might have 10 more miscarriages, but eventually one will probably stick." Um, no thanks.
I started acupuncture, mainly just to get a quiet hour to myself every week. The good news is I definitely feel less anxious, and my acupuncturist has answers that my other doctors don't. She sees things wrong with me that we've been treating and people who don't even know my story are always telling me how much better I look. Maybe that's the 43 supplements and herbs I take daily? She is completely confident that I will have a successful pregnancy on my next try (though I am oh so terrified to try again). Even if I don't try again, I feel so much more balanced.
My husband got me a puppy for Mother's Day. At first I was pissed at him, wondering how he could possibly think a puppy would take away the hurt of losing three pregnancies, of facing a future as a childless woman (not childless couple, because, well, you know...). But holy hell, this puppy changed my life. Our other dog is 8 and I love him, but he is my husband's dog through and through. The little guy is mine. He follows me everywhere, listens to my commands, loves to snuggle up and watch a movie and is just an amazing creature. Having him around has made me happier (in conjunction with other changes, I'm sure), even when I'm cleaning up after one of his terror sprees.
I turned 30 and celebrated the death of my 20s in style! We had an amazing party that people are still talking about. I'm not one for birthday parties, but I felt like 30 needed to be celebrated, and I needed something to celebrate in general.
We also celebrated our second wedding anniversary, a more somber one than most early anniversaries, I'm sure, but still triumphant.

I've missed you all and your daily musings. I tried to keep up, but I needed a mental break from all things stepmom. Just focusing on my day-to-day took that much energy. At this point in my life, I'm finally starting to feel like myself again, like the person I was when I met my husband. My body and mind are still tired and sad, so I still have much healing to do, but I feel like I'm coming back. Wounds are closing into scars, instead of staying open and tender. I'm on the path to being me again.