What Was and Will Be Lost

11 May

There is a dear friend of mine who reads this blog, and this post is also about him. RMW – please know that I love you. I hope that what you are about to read will not hurt you in any way, because that is not my intention. I wanted to call and give you a head’s up about this, but honestly, I couldn’t find the words on the phone. Hopefully I find them here.

On the night before we lost Nadav, I was in the hospital. It was the worst night of my life. I knew what was waiting for me on the other side of that night. I knew what was to come. I was lying in a hospital bed, feeling him kick, knowing that I wouldn’t be feeling it for long. I knew that by that time the next day, I would lose my child.

Meanwhile, about an hour and half south of that hospital bed, a dear friend of mine was having the best night of his life. He was marrying his partner in front of friends and family. I was supposed to be among those friends.

That Monday morning I had given strict orders: Don’t tell him what’s going on. He should not be thinking of me. Just tell him the doctor put me back on bed rest and that’s why I can’t be there.

And that’s what my friends did.

Just as those two gorgeous men were about to walk down the aisle, I texted RMW. I told him how sorry I was that I wasn’t there. How I wish him all of the happiness in the world.

Then I cried.

The next night, just as labor was kicking in he called. We talked and he was amazing. A few days later he came to visit during one of my darker days. I know how happy he was, and that made the gesture even more meaningful. I feel like what happened to me is a stain on his happiness.

Today he posted a slideshow of his wedding on Facebook. I had been wanting to see pictures, so I was happy.

My reaction was unexpected. It was a mingling of regret, and sadness, and grief. Not just for Nadav, but for missing that beautiful night. For being part of the bad memories of that night, and not of the beautiful ones.

Squish, RMW, Me0Me and I are in this sort of gang. Squish is my BFF, and she’s RMW’s fag hag for life. I am Me0Me’s fag hag for life, and he and RMW are pretty much BFF’s. We make up this “gang of four”. Sometimes we’re closer, sometimes we’re further away, but the core is there. It has been for about 15 years now.

On the night of RMW’s wedding, Squish and Me0Me knew what was happening with me. They respected my wishes and had the time of their lives. They got smashed. They danced. They celebrated.

Then RMW went home, and they both collapsed in a heap of grief.

Nadav was a loss for them as well.

They were going to be his aunt and uncles. They loved him.

Nadav was supposed to be the end of my two-year-long torment, one that they had held my hand through.

Instead, he was lost. And mourned. Not just by me, but by everyone who loved me. By the three other people in our little gang of four.

Today I watched RMW’s slide show and cried. I cried because this journey made me miss the happiest day of my dear friend’s life. I cried because the best night of his life was the worst night of mine.

I cried because I hate the fact that this will forever be intertwined in my head. I cried because I wanted the happiest night of RMW’s life to be one of the happiest of mine. Just like the night I saw Me0Me and his husband exchange vows. I wanted to be a part of that moment, and I was not.

I was an hour and a half north, in a hospital bed, bawling in the arms of my family. Feeling Nadav kick his last kicks.

Shmerson’s cousin is getting married in a few months (hey there O, I know you’re probably reading this too). It will be happening in the U.S.

And chances are that I won’t be there. If all goes according to plan (which it rarely does, but perhaps it will), I will not be at that wedding. I will be in bed. Missing out on another joyous occasion. Missing out on a chance to see friends, to spend time with family.

Missing out – all in the pursuit of a child.

There are days, even weeks, that I want to push forward. I want to go through all of this again as soon as possible, so we can put this behind us and move forward. So we finally know the outcome.

But there are days like today, when I feel utterly alone. I feel the weight of what has been lost, and what will be lost in pursuit of this.

There are days like today when I wish that this ache for a child didn’t exist. That the clock wasn’t ticking. That I could just leave this now.

So that I don’t miss anymore moments of joy. So that I don’t have to be the cause of so many moments of grief.

There are days like today that I wish I was there to witness my friend’s happy moment. To have completed the gang of four that night, rather than to have been the missing piece.

In a hospital bed, feeling my son’s final kicks.

There are days like today when I just want to live again. When I don’t want to lose any more.

21 Responses to “What Was and Will Be Lost”

  1. Amy May 11, 2012 at 02:53 #

    Oh, man. This is so touching and hard and sad…and beautiful. Bittersweet to a T. Sending you much love…you aren’t alone, that much I know.

  2. Lala May 11, 2012 at 03:26 #

    Oh, wow… your words are so heartfelt and intensely sad, but beautifully written. I totally get that your dear friend’s wedding and the loss of your little one are forever tied together – but just knowing that you were thinking of him and wishing him the best when you were going through your worst – that takes amazing strength and love, and I am sure your friend knows that. I have to believe that you of all people – if anyone deserves to achieve their dream – deserve it just for being such an amazing person.
    I hope your friend had a wonderful wedding and wish him every happiness, and the same for you too.

  3. Daryl May 11, 2012 at 03:45 #

    Oh, Mo. This is so beautiful and heartbreaking. It’s the hardest thing, all of it. To want something so much, to miss out on the rest of our lives because of it. But when the best day of your life finally comes, you know your gang will be right there with you. And so will all of us, who understand all too well what you went through to get there. Sending you so many hugs!

  4. Cristy May 11, 2012 at 06:41 #

    Mo, I have nothing to say. All I can do is let you know that I’m holding you in my heart. You and your gang are amazing, beautiful and strong. Nadav knows how loved he is and I’m certain is watching not over only his mom and dad, but also his aunts and uncles. And will always.

  5. jjiraffe May 11, 2012 at 08:58 #

    Your gang of four sounds as rad as you are. What a poignant post 😦

    Xoxo…wishing you love, ZOMG drama kittens and more funny stories about the world’s biggest douchelord of an actor…

  6. A. May 11, 2012 at 09:26 #

    None of it is fair. Losing Nadav was supremely unfair but also having to give up so much of *normal* life, especially some of the big and beautiful moments, in order to have a chance of bringing a healthy child into the world is also not fair and not really what any of us imagine when we naively begin trying to conceive. I also undulate between thinking screw this, I want my earlier life back, and a very strong desire to shove this impossibly difficult childmaking business all aside, at least for now, and a very clear sense that I need to just power through this with brute force in order to arrive at a place that is better than this with a happier focus to my life (healthy baby in my arms). Not a fix but a happier focus. Trying again is like jumping off a cliff with eyes closed and a new source of a lot of anger and angst, but at the same time, empowering, too.

  7. EmHart May 11, 2012 at 09:42 #

    This post is so beautiful, and so desperately sad. As I read it I couldn’t help think back to NIAW. I feel like this is the sort of story people who don’t understand this terrible journey should hear. I think it tells of the grief, not only for the loss of your son, but for the loss of these joyous occasions and of sharing the wonderful moments of life with your good friends. I have never experienced anything close to the grief you are feeling, but I know how hard it is to feel like I can’t celebrate fully in the way I wish I could. Thank goodness for these wonderful friends you have. I am thinking of you, this post touched me deeply.

  8. Mrs BubbaT May 11, 2012 at 10:18 #

    I wish I had the right words to say that would express how touching what you have written is. Just know that you are in my thoughts and hope you get that your hearts desire

  9. Sunny May 11, 2012 at 14:04 #

    Oh Mo, you bring tears to my eyes. Just know that I am thinking of you and sending you love.

  10. TeeJay May 11, 2012 at 15:38 #

    I’m sorry for your pain. You don’t deserve it. I am glad, however, that you have these friendships to help you through the pain and to share your pain with you. A great support system like that is hard to find. I know you will cherish these friends for life as they will cherish you and your future children. Great BIG HUG coming at you, my friend.

  11. delenn25 May 11, 2012 at 15:58 #

    Such a bittersweet post. What wonderful friends.

  12. marwil May 11, 2012 at 17:41 #

    That sounds like the best friends ever. Hugs.

  13. bodegabliss May 11, 2012 at 18:08 #

    I love you, lady. You deserve all the joy in the world, and I have faith you will have it again.

  14. Pussy Parent May 11, 2012 at 18:25 #

    I don’t even know what to say but wanted to let you know how much your words have touched me. I wish you peace and happiness.

  15. Mina @ Fertility Doll May 11, 2012 at 20:27 #

    “In a hospital bed, feeling my son’s final kicks.” Broke my heart a million times. I feel so sad and all I can send you is a virtual hug. x

  16. Rebecca Pallack (@RPallack) May 11, 2012 at 21:10 #

    I’m hoping that you do miss the next wedding but for a happy reason with the bed rest being a good sign of things that bring only joy in the future.

  17. slcurwin May 12, 2012 at 04:52 #

    Oh hun, I feel like crying to myself here. What an sad combination of hope and defeat. I want to hug you.

  18. Kate @ Infertile First Mom May 14, 2012 at 22:52 #

    You shared (so poingently) another dimension of loss that is born of this terrible disease… and it breaks my heart. Infertility stole your chance to share those happy memories on a day when you were already losing the most important thing in the world. I’m so sorry you had to add another layer of grief on top of everything else. Watching the wedding slide show must have been so bittersweet, for so many reasons. You are so strong and so brave. Your friends and family are lucky to be a part of your life, in all of its bittersweet glory.

    • SRB May 15, 2012 at 20:11 #

      Mo – I’ve read this so many times in the last few days, and I just didn’t know what to say. But last night, I had a dream about you. You were dressed up and it was something sparkly, but Shmerson was still cartoon Shmerson. I don’t know why, but probably because he is so funny. It was nighttime and their were twinkly lights. You both had wine glass and you were both laughing.

      This proves that I can see the future, you see? You see. xoxo

  19. Kristen May 15, 2012 at 21:23 #

    Speechless and crying over here…
    So very sorry for all your losses…
    Love to you…

  20. Alissa/MissC May 17, 2012 at 01:36 #

    Mo, this is so beautiful and so sad. I know just what you are feeling. Knowing you are going to lose the thing you love most and being unable to stop it is heatbreaking. Do whatever you need to do to be happy. If you need a break, take it. If you want to plunge ahead to get to the end of all of this, then that is what you should do. You have love ahead of you, I just know it.

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