Crying in the car again.

I fear
I have nothing to give.

     I sat on the sofa last night and watched my BIL rest his hand on my SIL’s pg belly.   I feel like a bird caught in the eyes of a snake; I have to tear my eyes away from his hand caressing her stomach.  If expectant fathers can get a pg glow, then he certainly has one.  The excitement in his voice fills the room when he talks about meeting his new daughter, about how he wants to feel her kick inside her mother’s belly again.  Lucky for me, all eyes are on them and no one notices the envy in my expression, the tears welling up as I get up to refill my wine glass.

I fear I will never see that expression on Manly’s face. 

I have so much
to lose here in this lonely place.

     I’ve never had the comfort of feeling secure in my life.  I feel as if I spend my days walking on the knife’s edge between having enough and losing everything that I’ve worked so hard to achieve.  I fear that I will lose my husband if I cannot give him children, I fear that I will lose my friends if I show them the misery that occupies me day-to-day, I fear that I will lose my mind if I cannot get a grip on the paralysis that holds me in this place, I fear I will explode if I don’t get this out of my head.  And it’s a lonely place, the knife’s edge.  Only big enough for one, you see.  “I wrestle alone in the dark, in the deep dark, and that only I can know. Only I can understand my condition.”  Only I can know; there is no one to hold my hand, no one to show me the way.  No one else can fight this for me.  I am truly alone here.

Tangled up in your embrace
there’s there’s nothing I’d like better than
to fall.

     Every time Manly touches me, every time I feel his golden skin against my own, every time I look across the room and see his eyes, his smile, I want to feel his child move inside of me.  Curled into his arms in bed at night, I wish that I could give him that gift. 

but I fear
I have nothing to give.

     But I fear I have nothing to give.  And I fear I never will.

Advertisements

17 thoughts on “Crying in the car again.

  1. You know the game by this point. Title and artist of the song for 10 points, and another 10 for the title of the movie the second quote comes from.

  2. I’m so sorry. That’s a horrible feeling. I hope that it passes soon. You are not alone in the car. And I don’t know the artist or the title, alas.

  3. I don’t know the title or the author but I could have written it. I’m so sorry, Sharah. Infertility is such a pit of despair.

  4. What the hell

    do I say

    in resonse

    to that?

    It just damn well sucks. It stinks that I can’t say it will get better. It stinks that there is only one thing that will truly fix this. It stinks that you are living in this place. It stinks that rest of us who want desperately to help can’t. It stinks that it hurts.

    Damn it, it just stinks.

  5. Oh damn! feel the sucker punch all the way out here in California. Ouch. Such a horrible feeling to be observing “the glow” in such a visceral way. Wish I could come over with a tonic — whether you take it with Gin or Vodka is purely your call.

    Feeling for you, my friend.

    P.S. Sarah McLachlan and the song is Fear — she’s amazing, as are you in the way you wrote this post.

  6. ok- I know it is Sarah McLachlan because I can hear her singing, but I can not remember the name of the song and the only movie I can remember her being on was that one with Nic Cage & I don’t think that is right.

    whatever it is- it totally fits.
    The huge suckitude of IF,

    xo

  7. I can truly feel your pain and anguish in this post and it hurts me. I am wishing for better, brighter days ahead for you.

    Do not fear, you have everything to give and you already do that for your husband, your family, your friends, and all of us.

  8. My heart broke for you reading your post. It’s horrible. I know. And there isn’t anything I can say to make you feel better. I would have done anything, spent any amount of money, if I would have known I’d get pregnant. I could have dealt with the hurt if I knew that SOMEDAY it would all be worth it. The not knowing is the worst. And now I know. And it sucks. But at least I know.

  9. I share your fears. I have also winced in pain at the loving touch of one expectant parent to another. I have also cried until everything aches.
    Honey, it’s an empty and lonely place to be, but please know that you are not entirely alone.
    Please try to believe that everything your heart desires will come to you in time.

  10. Beautiful and terrible post all around. I also have that fear. I wish I could tell you that you will get pregnant, but I can’t tell you that. I can tell you that I think you are a wonderful person and have so much talent and love and life to give to other people that I don’t think you’ll ever be alone in the future, without friends and family. I know it won’t take away the hurt right now, but that much is true.

  11. There’s really nothing I can say to make you feel better. Except–just think that soon that “pregnant glow” will be the haggard face of someone who is never fully rested, and who has to go on with his workday nonetheless. Heehee. Gotta love schaudenfreude…

  12. This was gorgeous. Heartbreaking too. I hope you get to see that glow on Manly. And as you’re seeing the glow, you remember this post and think about how far you’ve come.

  13. This was a very elegant post but I am so so sorry for you. My heart is just breaking into pieces after reading that. I often ask my husband if I am unable to give him children if he will leave me. I am so frightened of that. Being infertile is hard enough. But being alone AND unfertile would be my ultimate demise.

    I am sending lots of hugs your way. I pray that you WILL give Manly that gift and that you will be able to experience everything you have longed for.

  14. PJ gets the points for the song — it is indeed “Fear” by Sarah McLachlan.

    I’m leaving the points open on the second quote in hopes that someone will figure it out. So there’s still a chance for everyone out there 🙂

  15. What a heartfelt post. I wanted to reach out through time and space and take you out of the room with your BIL and SIL. I am so sorry. I wish I could help.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s