A Case of the Should-Have's

This past Sunday, many of our friends (my husband included) participated in the Cleveland Triathalon. The event benefitted United Cerebral Palsy, and we have friends who have a daughter with CP who organize relay teams to participate and raise money for UCP in her honor. We are always happy to donate and participate to honor how hard they work to get the best for their daughter.

This year, this family, who has been incredibly supportive to Gordon and me, asked if they could also race in memory of Vivienne. We were so touched by the gesture (and I still cry when I think about it). We all wore our Team Payton shirts, and on the sleeve of each one were Vivienne’s initials and a rainbow. It was a means of support to us that I will never forget.

The triathalon was a moving event – so many parents who have worked so hard to make the best possible futures for their children, and so many children who worked so hard to be able to walk across that finish line. You couldn’t watch and not shed a tear. It was a really emotional day, on so many levels.

I found myself thinking during much of the event that this day was supposed to be so different. At the tri last year, I was pregnant with Vivienne, just 2 weeks away from unexpectedly giving birth. This year, I should have been there with my daughter. And then I would think to my 3 losses earlier this year. With our first, I should have been there 8 months pregnant. With our second, I should have been there 7 months pregnant. And with our latest, I should have been there secretly knowing I was pregnant and about to pass the meaningless milestone of the first trimester mark. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. There are countless ways that this day should have been different.

As with most women my age, I have a lot of friends with young children and a lot of pregnant friends. As a person who struggles with infertility and multiple losses, I am almost always in a situation that makes me uncomfortable and sad. Generally, it’s no one’s fault. I can’t ask people to hide or not talk about their children. I can’t ask them to deny they’re pregnant. And I can’t help that it’s always painful for me to be around.

At Sunday’s triathalon, many of our friends were there with strollers and children in tow. Several remarked how we looked like the “stroller brigade.” I stood to the side, feeling bitter that I was denied my membership in this group. I should have been there with a stroller too, keeping my daughter entertained, and both of us cheering on her Dad. Instead, I have to stand there and choke back the tears so that no one sees how it’s tearing me up inside. I know that these are benign comments – no one means to upset me or hurt me. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

There were also the pregnant friends. I need to preface this by saying that I know they are grateful for what they have. I also know that pregnancy isn’t all sunshine and roses. I also have to say that it is incredibly difficult for me to hear women complain about pregnancy. Every time I hear it, all I can think is how I would cut off my right arm to feel nauseous and uncomfortable or to not be able to drink because I’m pregnant. That’s where I should be right now, but I’m not.

So Sunday was a very emotional day. Having friends that are so supportive that they are willing to share a day dedicated to their daughter with our daughter. Watching the pride on the faces of children with CP walk across the finish line. Remembering where we were on this day a year ago. And the serious case of the should-have’s that I walked away with. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It should have been so different.