Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Transformation

Last night, Grey and I had our weekly meeting with David. Though the agenda was to focus on me and my hang-ups about seeing myself as a mother, the conversation quickly turned to Grey's thoughts and feelings. He talked extensively about the anger he's been feelings as of late: anger from the losses, anger from having to endure the hell of treatment, anger from feeling once again like an outcast. He also talked about the sadness, the pain. As he talked, I realized that though Grey has voiced all of this to me before, this was the first time he was opening up about everything in a succinct manner, connecting the dots and forming conclusions.

Then he shocked me. Grey took my hand and told David that the emotion that scared him the most was that for the first time in 3 yrs he finally felt happy again. He was finally starting to feel like himself.

And it was at that moment that I was able to verbalize what had been stirring in me too. That the emotion I was feeling wasn't simply an absence of pain and despair.

One of the scariest things about deciding to stop treatment following failure is this belief that one is giving up. And with giving up comes this idea that you are somehow defective as a person. You're giving up because you are weak. You're giving up because you're stupid. You're giving up because you never really wanted children. I struggled with this belief when we decided to stop, thinking that I would simply plunge into the adoption process and it would make everything right. Little did I know that this forced break was actually a blessing in disguise; an opportunity to heal and reflect on everything.

What I'm learning during this time, through reading, writing, therapy and talking with other bloggers is the decision to stop treatment wasn't us failing or not wanting children enough. Far from it actually. Instead it was a conscious choice to heal and make decisions for the road ahead. To preserve our sanity and regroup for the next part of this journey.

What has come unexpectedly is a transformation in both myself and Grey. Through therapy, we have both begun to communicate more openly, sharing with one another some of our deepest fears. In having a safe place to talk and with the help of someone to facilitate conversation, we been finding our resolve towards our family deepening. By saying goodbye to our biological children, our dream of our family, we've begun to see the path that will take us to our children.

To my surprise, we haven't been stuck all this time; we've been moving forward. These years are not actually lost years. These are the foundation years; the years that are transforming our family and forming the skeleton for the future.

Last night, as Grey and I were cuddling in bed, he recounted all the pain and loss from the past 2.5 yrs. We both still feel the pain from each milestone of this journey: the fear during the first year, the diagnosis, the failed treatments and finally lossing our children. We both cried as we talked about the hell of lossing both through pregnancies; the loss of hope. What was different from before is that instead of talking about it and feeling isolated in my grief, I could feel Grey tighten his hold on me, signifying that he was there too. And as we drifted off to sleep, all I could think of was how grateful I was to have this man next to me, helping me as we continue our journey towards our children.

12 comments:

  1. What a great perspective in looking at these years as foundation instead of lost time. This actually fits with a convo max and I were having tonight. If only we could feel confidence in that foundation when we were going through it instead if looking back and seeing it.

    So glad you have such support as you continue to process this phase of life.

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  2. See now you're making ME cry. What a beautiful way to look at the journey

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  3. I was so happy reading this post Cristy. It is amazing how you and Grey and healing and connecting. You guys are such a strong and model couple. So many of us, me included have really shut down and I know that is the worst thing possible. To move on we have to let our feelings out and deal with them at face value.

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  4. This was a beautiful post, Cristy. As someone who is nearing the end of her attempts at having biological children, I need to read things like this, to know that it will be ok once we give up on treatments. Thank you.

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  5. I feel like your (new-ish) header finally reflects where you are headed in life, love, and your road to growing your family. And as you said to me not long ago, I feel your strength and healing with each post.

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  6. So happy to hear it said the way you did above. Really if a couple can make through to the other side of infertility treatments I think their marriage will always survive.

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  7. You are amazing. You are the light at the end of the tunnel. Stopping treatment is always in the back of my mind and after reading this, I have a feeling that it will be ok if we decide to do so. Thank you. xoxo

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  8. I agree with Hattie--what great perspective you have in looking at the IF/loss years as foundation years, forming a skeleton of what will happen in the future. I'm so happy you have a safe place to talk about all of these feelings, and that you have such a great man by your side to move forward with.

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  9. The writing you are doing these days is AMAZING. I'm in awe of how far you have come in your comfort with your decision. I admire your strength!

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  10. Tears. I agree with HRF. Your writing lately has been so encouraging and, well, transformative. It's wonderful to see you in a place of contentment and peace before you and Grey embark on the next leg of your journey.

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  11. My eyes teared up reading this. Cristy, I am so happy that you and Grey realized that stopping treatment is not a sign a weakness but it's actually a step forward. This is big. Everything will be a-ok. Lots of hugs to you!

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  12. balling my eyes out reading this right now.

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