Wednesday, November 7, 2012


The past few nights I've been dreaming of babies. The particulars of these dreams escape me, hence the reason I need to start keeping a dream journal, but what has been clear is that I awake from each of these dreams deeply saddened and feeling lost.

All of this start Sunday. The weekend had been going very well as I got to meet a friend from a forum Shelley and I are a part of. Grey and I ended up taking her to one of our favorite pubs and the three of us had a wonderful time. Saturday afforded me time to catch up on housework/work in general and both Grey and I were feeling pretty good. All that ended Sunday, when we attended a Sip & See for a friend's new baby.

There's no one particular moment at the Sip & See that was awful and in all rational, this shower should have been one we'd be happy to attend, as the new mother had undergone IVF to bring her son into the world. Nonetheless, it took a lot for Grey and I to attend the event. And while we were there, it became clear that neither of us were doing well.

Later at a coffee shop, both Grey and I tried to process what was bothering us. PMS on my end? The new father's ongoing complaints about life with baby? A longing for what should have been? On and on went this broken conversation as we worked. Initially, I hoped it was just a matter of the weather changing that had us both in a funk, but as the days have gone by and the dreams have become more intense, it's clear something else is up.

Everything came to a head last night. Grey was talking with his mother about plans for Thanksgiving and it became clear we were going to be spending this one alone again. Lucas's wife started having contractions over the weekend and MIL is excited about seeing her new granddaughter. As Grey talked with his mother, I was hit with a tidal wave of sadness. I knew that this niece was due soon, but the reality of the situation that we should be preparing for the delivery of our babies we lost in April made everything all the more clear. Our arms are empty and we are no closer to resolution.

Grey and I talked about this. He too is suffering, revisiting the websites for adoption agencies that looked so promising but who will not work with us until we have relocated. Being in this limbo has been incredibly frustrated as we both want to be building our family, not waiting. And with this knowledge comes so much grief for both of us (Grey confessed to shedding some tears in a bathroom stall because of this). Despite what everyone tells us (it's good to wait, you need to pursue your future for your family, blah, blah, blah), it's clear that none of them truly understand the difference between preparing and being benched.

And then there's the secret I've been keeping. Developments that have been happening that I'm still too scared to talk about. I know that very soon, I will need to talk about this; to confess what's been happening. For now, though, Grey and I are trying to proces all the grief and fear that has surfaced from recent news. We both need to be stronger before I can go there.

In short, both of us are being haunted. If all had worked out last December or March, we would be holding our children now or preparing for their arrival instead of living in the reality we do now. With being haunted comes sadness and blame; me blaming myself over and over again for losing our children. My heart screaming constantly "why" knowing full well that an answer will never come. Instead, my dreams are filled with images of children and babies. Touches of soft skin, kisses and smells that feel like they will never be a reality.


  1. Hugs, lady. I know this reality is only temporary. Your resolution is coming, sooner than you know.

  2. When forced to be in this limbo-hell, I'm not sure what, if anything, could possibly make it easier or less painful. Certainly not any attempted words of comfort, however well meaning. It's something that doesn't go away when you drift to sleep or lessen by the end of the month. When there are still no good answers to be had, how do you move forward? All I know is that with each post you write, whether positive or painful, I wish I could gather your up in my arms. Not that it would make things any better, but just to let you know you aren't alone.

  3. I am so sorry for everything you are going through. I couldn't agree more - "preparing" and "being benched" are two different states of mind and limbo can feel like an eternity. It sounds like you and Gray are communicating and that is good. hang in there & hugs

  4. Did you meet A over the weekend? So cool!
    I'm so sorry that all the painful emotions are coming back up. Even though your friend struggled with infertility, it's still hard to not feel bad for yourself. You have every right to feel how you feel. And to add on top of that? The holidays, the eminent birth of Grey's niece, and the sadness you feel for the loss of your babies who would have been due around the same time. You're dealing with a lot, Cristy. And I know it really hurt to hear Grey's conversation with his mother. You are much braver than me. DH's niece is almost one and I still don't have the courage to see her. Please don't feel guilty about having to spend Thanksgiving alone again. You need to protect yourself. Lots of hugs to you.

  5. Wishing there was a way to erase your pain. Know that I'm thinking of you.

  6. I hope you find resolution soon. Limbo is a horrible place to be sometimes.

  7. thinking of you....

  8. Oh Cristy, my heart goes out to you. I wish the pain would end. I wish you were holding your babies in your arms. Stay strong - there IS a happy ending waiting for you and Grey.

  9. Every time I listen to the podcast I think about how hard everything must be for you right now. You have been so strong in a sea of utter pain and sadness. I desperately wish there was a way to take some of this burden from you. Sending you lots of love. Please know I think of you often.

  10. Oh, gosh, the Why. It's what about broke me.

    I'm sorry you have so much to deal with. Other people's fruit during your famine is so hard on top of what's haunting you.

    Abiding with you, my friend. Thank you for abiding with me today, with your kind and wise words.


  11. I'm sorry our realities suck. Holidays suck. Family sucks. It all just sucks and I'm sorry we're stuck in it. xo


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