I never subscribed to the notion that sharing news of one’s pregnancy, in the early stages, was a bad idea for fear that the pregnancy may not last. Personally, I was elated when I found out that I was finally pregnant and wanted to shout it from the rooftops. On the flip side, when I learned that I would never have my own biological children, I needed to be able to lean on my closest friends and family for support. Whether they were ready or not, they were going to join me on the emotional roller-coaster ride that became my life before I became a mom.
Grief always had a way of sneaking up on me at the most inopportune times back then. When I would speak to my sister on the phone she would implore me to grieve. Her emphatic requests to “Just let it out!” always confused me. I wanted to say to her, “If you expect me to start crying with you here on the phone so that this will all be over and we can happily move on with our lives, it's just not going to happen.”
Extreme waves of depression would always hit me in the morning when I awoke and when I would go for my regularly scheduled facials. My beloved esthetician would endure my tears throughout my treatment. Without fail, he would always end by saying, “If you stop crying, I will throw in a chemical peel at no charge. You have to stop crying for it to work though!”
Shortly after I learned that I was completely infertile, our very close friends began going through a foster/adoption process. They received a call right after the Christmas Holiday that a baby girl had been born who needed to be fostered and likely adopted. They had not yet completed the licensing process and therefore were only able to babysit her until they completed all of the necessary training and paperwork. They finally started caring for their daughter full-time when she was 3 months old.
When she first came to them, I would go over and marvel at how beautiful she was and help in whatever way that I could. Looking back, I have to admit that in addition to feeling an enormous amount of joy for them, there was also a healthy dose of envy and jealously stirring inside of me.
That same summer, another close friend hosted a dinner party at his home. These same friends arrived with their adorable baby that evening. My girlfriend handed her over to me, as she always did when we were together. While I was holding her, I maneuvered myself over to the couch and then patted and rocked her until she fell asleep on me.
As I held this gorgeous, pudgy sleeping baby, who smelled like formula and Johnson’s baby lotion, I had a sense of sheer contentment. I was totally relaxed and happy. My glass of wine was just far enough away that I couldn’t reach it and it didn't matter because I had all that I needed in my arms. About a half-an-hour later I began to quietly weep. My tears flowed freely and uncontrollably. I vividly remember the expressions of bewilderment on our friends' faces as they helplessly stood and endured my emotional breakdown. Our friend, the host, nervously called out to my husband, “Brian, D’Lo is crying!” Brian came to my side, as did the baby’s parents. Interestingly, they did not seem the least bit panicked or worried. I’m thinking that I may have been if I were they. They patiently allowed me hold their daughter for as long as I needed so that I could work through the pain of not being able to hold the babies we had recently lost.
In those moments, I didn’t give one wit that the majority of our friends were feeling pity for me/us. I didn’t care that there was a real probability that one, if not all, of our friends were wondering, “Shouldn't we call a professional about this situation?” and/or “Doesn't someone have a Xanax in their purse for God’s sake?”
During my predicament, life went on for those around me. I finally figured out that I was going to have to come up with a work-around solution if I really wanted to be a mom. Staying in bed with the covers pulled up over me and summoning my husband to bring me Diet Cokes just wasn’t going to get me the outcome that I truly wanted.
While I was trying to figure out how I was going to become a mom, I also spend a lot of time doing the following…
- Getting facials, manis and pedis
- Dropping by our jeweler on a very regular basis and I am embarrassed to say that my list grew exponentially during this time
- Adding to my collection of shoes and purses
- Enjoying a lot of expensive dinners while drinking a lot of margaritas and vodka sodas
- Traveling for business and pleasure
- Meeting with my therapist
Looking back, I clearly squandered away a whole lot of money. Pinterest hadn't been invented yet, People! If it had, I could have saved some serious do-re-mi. If you are looking for ways to refocus your energies, may I suggest yoga and meditation? They will certainly be a lot less expensive and way more beneficial for you. Far be it for me to judge though! If you would like to invite me to join you for a margarita and discuss your path to becoming a parent, I am happy to do so.
I am thinking positive thoughts for you!
To learn more about Denise Steele or to read additional posts, please go to: Hope4Fertility
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