11 May 2009


Yesterday I spent swallowing down advil and grief
cramps in waves and my body making sure I knew that my lawn mowing was off limits
and that horizontal was the orientation of choice
and that stillness was preferred

but see, I suck at this. I am better at warp speed, busy, moving, avoiding.
To stay still means to be with this. And this, This is more than I can handle.

Finally I fell asleep sometime late afternoon, and woke in the thick of sadness. And pressed my face against the chest of my sweetie and just sobbed. I hate it. Hate the sadness, hate more the reason for it. Hate the fact that there is nothing I can do about it, nothing I can take action against, nothing I can change by effort or knowledge.

And once again I am so thoroughly aware of the fact that this Science is not all that. It is also so much luck. Odds. Dice.

Damn it.

Yesterday I wrote of the hope for gentleness and acceptance. And what I meant was, I wish I could stop fighting against my own reality. This is my truth right now. It is. It also happens to suck. But acceptance does not mean a warm embrace. It means that the energy I am putting into fighting this and wishing it weren't so can maybe go elsewhere. A grand idea, an Ideal, but I am not done fighting this yet. I can tell.

I generally have two main modes of operation for things that scare me or that hurt: avoidance (my personal favorite), and finally, confrontation in spite of fear. I avoid until I can't, then I run at it yelling with my arms waving (sometimes just roaring and flailing).

In this case, what can I avoid? Grief comes anyway. As does the cramping reminder of changes deep inside. The fatigue of pregnancy has given way to the fatigue of sadness and body-hurt. There is no long term avoidance. I can stay busy, be "fine", act as if all is ok. But it does not change that it is not. The upwellings come, and I am nearly paralyzed with sadness, and then they go, and I am functional.

I know I need to wait. I suck at this part too. I am not patient. I am not that kind of resilient. I want to be fine. And I know I will approach that as time goes on, I know. I know my body will stop hurting and my early pregnant belly will recede, and somehow I will get my period and we can decide what the hell we are doing.

But my self? My kateness? Bruised almost beyond recognition, and I am SO PISSED OFF that my constant vigilance, my guard being up, my worry, could do nothing to cushion the blow. Of course not, I know. It couldn't. I know that too. And I also know I will do all of that wasted worry again should I be so lucky. I am sure I cannot help myself, especially not now.

I also realized, should I be so lucky, I will probably never look at the ultrasound monitor again before someone else tells me things are ok. I never want to see something that bad again.

So today, advil, stillness, focused attention on the work that piled up fast while I was gone.
There is momentary avoidance built in to this busy-ness, but then there it is, unavoidably, sitting with its dirty feet on my couch: hello grief. One sugar or two?


IVF 40+ said...

Ditto. to everything. I run at everything so I don't feel panic, shame, grief ... whatever the emotion de jour is that I am avoiding. My sadness came roaring back to life this weekend whilst i was in the bath, minding my own. But, to paraphrase lance Armstrong wrote, we are family not inspite of my grief but because of it.
Thinking of you babe.

Sarah said...

shit kate, i am so sorry. sorry too that i haven't been here for you the last several days, though i realize this is the least of your worries and know there is little comfort in what anyone can say right now anyway. i hate that you've been dealt this terrible hand and wish you the peace you seek. totally understand if you don't feel like hanging around my blog much but will be thinking of you all the same.

Anonymous said...

i wish there was an easier way to get through this than to get through it. i'm not even sure that makes any sense but it's just so devasting on all fronts. i know it's hard to be still, especially when that stillness just reminds you of all that's happened. i'm thinking of you lady.

Jenn said...


I wish there were something more that I could say to help ease your pain right now.

The best I can offer is a heartfelt "I am so sorry - please know I am thinking of you"

May your heart lighten a bit each day until you can see some light again.
Until then just know I am taking in the light for you!!!


Anonymous said...

I too am sorry and wish that there was more to do or say.

Maredsous said...

You are right, this is not a science. This is Las Vegas. I am not a gambler. I hate odds, risks, and not being in control. All this business really makes me want to change my line of research. Heck, I did this stuff in mice. What saddens me is that there really isn't any research on the topic. Studies are usually retrospective or based on small sample sizes.

Well, enough ranting. You have healing to do. I wish there were something I could do or say, but just know I am thinking of you and hoping you can get through this without too much more pain.

Tammy said...

Still wishing I had better words.
Just know I'm here thinking of you and wishing I snickerdoodle you just a smidge!

Love you muchly,

Anonymous said...

arg. just catching up after being off line while traveling. i am sooo sorry to hear this :( wishing i could give you a big IRL hug!


Anonymous said...

Sorry you have to go on this path. It just sucks. Time makes it easier to find that graceful acceptance, but the grief is part of it. This part is the worst though, and I hope you get through the badness and are able to look ahead to a better future soon. At least sometimes - for me I fluctuate between wow, I'm excited for my possible future; and g-d my life is a total wreck.

Thinking of you.