new moon

My deepest gratitude to every single one of you who have offered support through your kind words, ears, eyes, shoulders, hands and hearts. Many of your comments brought me to tears — though I was halfway there already — and every one has helped hold me up these past few days. Your sincerity and kindness also serve to remind me how little support I have in real life, and so I am ever more grateful.

There are so many thoughts swirling around my head, yet I still must make sense of it all. There have been many tears, many attempts at diversion, many thoughts about the past, present and future. I imagine I will find a way to articulate what’s embedded in my heart and flying through my mind at some point.

I’ve been reading some other blogs but I find myself unable to comment. Please forgive me and know it’s nothing personal. I’m just in a funk, obviously.

I am still somewhat in denial — thinking and wishing and deluding myself that maybe we still have a chance to become parents either on our own (though the chance of that happening is virtually zero) or through adoption (though we never completed paperwork due to costs and uncertainty). But then reality sets in and brings me right back.

Monday brought a brand new moon, and the beginning of a new cycle. In the past, a new cycle meant the end of an old cycle, of course, but also a new beginning — a new hope, new chance. Now, a new cycle means nothing but futility. I feel more disconnected now to the natural rhythms of my body than ever before — no more do I feel as one with the universal rhythm of the tides and the moon, la luna.

For the first time in over 25 years, I must accept the reality that I will not become pregnant, not by accident, and not with the best science money can buy. For the first time in the four years we’ve been actively trying to have a baby, we are left without a chance for a future with a child. This thought makes me ache to my core. It is crushing. 

I have been one breath away from tears for days. I know a long road lies ahead. I am trying to focus on the present, but cannot stop thinking about the future. I can’t help but think that our one chance for a child died more than two years ago with our angel boy. It’s hard to believe how cruel that is. It’s impossible to know how I will ever accept this. How can l ever forgive myself and my body for its inability to sustain life?

I have tried to distract myself with work, by watching movies and basketball, planning weekends away, gardening, taking a beautiful drive in the mountains for the spring wildflowers. And yes, with good wine, sake and comfort food. M has indeed been amazing, and we are trying to hold each other up.

But every other waking minute I sit with it. I sit and I feel it and I breathe into it. I feel sorrow, frustration, anger, resentment, regret, hopelessness, despair. Cheated and defeated. I ask myself how I will get through this. I feel the ache of the past with the sadness of the present and the dread and uncertainty of the future. It’s all intertwined in my heart. And when the tears fall, I feel it all at once.

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~ by luna on April 8, 2008.

28 Responses to “new moon”

  1. My dear Luna

    Please know that I am sitting with you, admiring your courage as you begin to face up to this terrible news and wishing you the strength to survive it.

    I am glad that you and the amazing M are taking the time to nurture yourselves, and can find even momentary pleasure in food, wine and nature.

    Take care of yourself, sweetie.

  2. Oh, Luna, I am so sorry you feel such despair. My heart goes out to you and wishes it could change the future for you. Keep doing little things for yourself and M. I pray that you find peace with this one day.

  3. There is only one way, and that is through. Your heartbreak rips at my own, Luna. I’m so incredibly sorry, and wish I could come up with something pithy and meaningful to say that would give you a new angle or something to ponder. But for now, all I can do is be angry, frustrated, and hopeless with you. Please know I’m with you.

  4. I’m here too, & very glad to hear from you, even though your sadness breaks my heart. 😦 I wish there was something more I could do. (((many hugs)))

  5. Luna – I sit, so close to where you’re now at with all the fear and heartbreak that brings. I know that there is little I can say because there is little that anyone can say to me to make this pain lessen. But know that there are wishes going out to you. I hope I can learn from your courage and your strength.

  6. Dearest luna, I just have to say: none of this is your or your body’s fault. Though I know the feeling well.

    Your dignity and grace in this moment is beautiful, even in these depths. I can’t help but feel that at some point, perhaps in the distant future, you will transform this grief and anger into something profound and lovely. In the meanwhile, we’re all here with you.

  7. I swear Luna, I gobble up every word of your posts like a really yummy potpie. You really know how to say the things that are so hard to put words to.

    It is weird how, despite all the ways life happens anyway and proves otherwise, there’s this fantasy that can still live in your mind — as you mention with the “accidental pregnancy” idea — that can be hard to let go of. It made me realize how many of those I have about a lot of other things, too… magical career success, gloriously toned Madonna-like upper arms, etc. It’s so hard w/ the pregnancy thing, though, because jeez… it’s not much to ask, the biggest idiots have no trouble with it, etc.

    Anyway, I’m blathering on and not making sense. But wanted you to know I’m here, and I’m thinking of you!

  8. Oh Luna.
    Grieve. It sucks but grieving helps your soul. Then, when it’s been two or three weeks between sobbing sessions look at what you want to do next.

    Be kind to yourself.

  9. You’ve not been far out of my mind for the past few days–I just wish I could help you in some way during this grieving process. Know that I am here if you need me.

  10. My heart aches with you and for you.

  11. Just offering another pair of hands to help hold you up in your grief. You are not alone. I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers, and wish you moments of peace in your mourning.

  12. Luna, I have to ask because I need a solution for you. What does your RE say about why he/she thinks this didn’t work out? Has there been any discussion about immunological and chromosomal testing?

    You continue to be in my thoughts.

  13. As I read your post I was incredibly impressed at the way you’re connected to your feelings. I think the answer to your question of how you’re going to get through this is to continue doing what you’ve been doing; you’re actually in the process of getting through this right now.

    I know a long road is ahead and I’m so sorry. We aren’t going anywhere, though, and we’ll be here as long as you need us.

  14. Melanie (my problem-solving, solution-oriented lawyer friend — you must be very good), thank you. RE can’t say why it didn’t work. After the failed IVF when I had such a great response with good embryos, she did not think it was egg quality. I’ve never had a problem with recurrent miscarriage so never tested for immunological issues. I’ve had the standard genetic testing but not karotying. The only chromosomal tests were on my angel boy and he was normal. We didn’t do PGD because we have no known risk aside from age.

    RE is away but will call when she returns to discuss it. Last time she said it could just be luck of the draw. But remember my lining was not too plump and I wouldn’t be surprised if that was a factor too. Regardless, we can’t afford another fresh cycle and I don’t see wasting another 4-5k on an FET that’s bound to fail… If we had the money, I’d probably try another fresh cycle and hope for better “luck” AND pursue adoption too, but unfortunately that is not an option at this point…

  15. Luna- I can’t exactly say that I know how you feel, as we ended with the Clomid for medical and financial reasons, and for us adoption just is not an option for us for many reasons at this point as well- not just finacially. It is frustrating when they can’t tell you why- when things look ‘normal’ but then our bodies betray us this one seemingly simple act. I had hoped so much for you that you would be one of the lucky ones- that you would get that news that we all hope to hear, that we all long to hear. That you were going to be yet another new friend that I was going to be able to live vicariously through. But I am still grateful to have you for one of my new friends that I can relate to- I wish so much that it was for a different reason- reading your blog that last few months has helped me realize that I am not alone in my journey- and I want you to remember that, you are not alone in your journey either. I know that you feel barren and broken- but you are something much, much more- you are one of the strongest women that I have ‘met’ along this journey- you have helped me to realize that I am not broken- you have helped me to realize that a line from one of my favorite movies is actually true- ‘What does not kill us- makes us stronger’ Even in our weakest moments- moments like we are having now- we are strong- because we are still here to remind each other how special we are, how important we are- that we have given so much of our lives to one dream- and that dream will be a part of us forever- maybe not physically- but emotionally- someone when I first joined my loss support group gave me this quote- it has served me well- I will pass it on to you as I think that it is fitting.
    ‘Grief is not a sign of weakness nor Loss of Faith but a Price of Love’ I don’t know the author- but it is very true. I am keeping you in my thoughts and prayers. I am sending you love and hoping you are able to eventually find peace in a sunrise or a sunset, maybe not tomorrow- but someday soon when you least expect it- you will feel that sense of warmth as peace begins to slowly find its way to you. In the meantime- know that our angels are together watching over us- and every tear that is shed is one more tear towards healing a broken heart. Lots of love and blessings to you as we walk this journey together.

  16. Luna, my RE suggested immune testing to rule it out as an issue. We’re also having the karyotyping done because of my miscarriage. (and my age of course…always my age.) When I spoke to my RE after my FET, he felt that apart from any immunological or chromosomal issues that could arise from the testing, like you,the issue could well be that it was a bad batch (also like you he doesn’t think egg quality is at issue.) His point was that even with a 50% chance of success (great stim, great transfer, etc.) there was still a 50% liklihood of failure. Hard words to hear, but, sadly, it makes sense. He also pointed to lining issues; mine has never exceeded 8.1 and they won’t transfer if it’s not at least 8 (I know if varies widely among clinics).

    I know you’ve got a lot to deal with and certainly to think about. And it pisses me off to no end that money, that evil money factor, is at issue. I will be anxious to hear what your RE says, particularly about trying FET again. Please ask her about IM shots of estrogen to plump up your lining. After my canceled FET due to lining issues, the combination of baby aspirin, IM estrogen shots and acupuncture may have made a difference.

    As always, here for you to listen if you need it.

  17. I’m just so very sorry for what you’re going through.

  18. I’m hoping that this will get a little smile out of you … but I suddenly have that Duran Duran song, “New Moon on Monday” in my head. Come on … just a little smile?!

    Okay, so suddenly I’m hearing a pin drop and that’s my cue to move on …

    I just wanted to tell you that I’ve been where you are at. Not in the same exact way that you are, but close. For years, I’ve wandered around wondering what to do next, knowing that any further ART wasn’t in my future. Fully knowing that I needed to move on with adoption. I’m STILL not at the point where I can fully go forward with adoption, both financially and emotionally. I know that adoption is a means to fulfill the need I have to be a parent, but yet … well, I’m sure you understand.

    Just know this: The loss(es) you feel right now? They will never fully go away. But, truly … you will get through this. And I will be there to help you. Because for some reason, Luna, I think I may have found a kindred spirit in you.

    Incredibly BIG GINORMOUS HUGS to you, Luna.

  19. I have thought of you often in the past few days, hoping you are okay. I’m glad that you are finding distractions and doing good things for yourself. There is nothing that can be said to make the pain any less, but I hope it helps in some way to know that there are people out there sending you sympathy and positive thoughts.

  20. I am just sitting here with you. I have Kleenex to hand over too. No good words–just a hug.

  21. When I read your post, boy it really hurt. I’ve had all those feelings as well. Nothing, but nothing takes the pain and misery away. And frankly, the only answer that you want is what you can’t have. So cry. Cry until you have no air left in your lungs. And then cry some more.

  22. Luna, I am sorry that you’re in so much pain. I think financial restrictions can be one of the most difficult things to deal with — who can put a price on being a parent? It is so frustrating. Your strength and courage through all of this is inspiring. Take care of yourself while you’re grieving, and please know that you are in our hearts.

  23. I’m so glad you’re still with us (in blogland). I’ve been checking in on you every day, crying a little more every time I saw your “comments” field growing while I knew you were just sitting there, empty and grieving.

    Of course I don’t have answers. None of us do. It’s hard to remember who we were before we learned life could be this cruel.

    Know you’re in my heart, every day.

  24. The defeat, Luna. I truly believe that something good must come out of this misery. I just don’t know what it is. Take all the time you need, it’s part of taking gentle care of yourself.

  25. Luna, you are in my thoughts. I am inspired by your strength — breathing through. I know these words don’t make it better, but I hope that you can take some comfort in knowing we will be there listening, wishing you peace as you move through this.

  26. I know what you mean and this pain is just awful. I just started back at writing and reading blogs so I feel like we just have to keep getting it all out. I am distracting myself as much as I can and I hope you also find ways to cope and get through this very difficult time. Sending you a big internet hug!

  27. I am so sorry. I am so very sorry. My heart aches for you.

  28. I came across your blog (and this post) while navigating through some pregnancy loss blogs. I read this post and was compelled to leave a comment. I want you to know that I am so sorry. I sit here and cry for you. There are no words that I can offer to make you feel better, but just know that a complete stranger is crying with and for you.
    -W (mom of two angel babies)

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