It Will All Work Out

I can’t tell you the number of times someone has told me “everything will work out” or “you will have a child someday.” I so appreciate the good intentions behind those words – it tells me how very much people want Gordon and I to become parents again, and this time with a child we get to raise. But, I have to admit, I really struggle with this sentiment.

It’s visible on my face when someone says it to me – I’m not projecting the hope and optimism that I’m supposed to. If only I could think more positively about it and see that this was in my future! But in the end, I don’t know that this is in my future. I never would have guessed 2 years ago that I would be sitting in the position I’m in now – 4 pregnancies, 4 losses. That makes it very difficult to see a future with a living child, hard as I may want to.

I know it’s hard for people to respond to me when I seem so hopeless. I wish that people could see that it isn’t lack of hope that causes my reaction to be the way it is – it’s hard doses of reality. I live in a world where I know first hand that a positive pregnancy test means nothing. That getting to a certain point in a pregnancy means nothing. That just because I have been through devastating losses does not mean that I am immune from more loss. It may seem like pessimism that I don’t whole heartedly nod and agree when I’m told that I’ll have another child, but it’s really just knowledge based on the education I have received.

I want to believe that you are right more than I could ever tell you. I want to believe in a world where the universe deems that some people have paid their dues and been through enough and now things can work out like they hope. But I can’t. I haven’t deserved a single one of my losses, so I know that there is no great scale of justice in the sky that will attempt to balance those out with the blessings of a successful pregnancy and healthy, living child. It’s not pessimism – it’s reality. Life isn’t fair. Babies die. Runners die of heart attacks. Non-smokers get lung cancer. It doesn’t all balance out, and it doesn’t always work out.

I know that it must sound harsh to say all of this, and I understand that it’s hard for people to accept. We want to be positive, believe that if you want something enough to work at it, that it will be yours, and that life gives us all what we so richly deserve. I want to believe that too, but I can see countless examples of how this isn’t the case. I know it’s hard to accept, because if we are forced to accept that life isn’t fair, then we are forced to accept that these tragedies can happen to any one of us. Hard work, diligence, hope, and optimism don’t make us immune from tragedy. Nothing does.

For some people, life just doesn’t work out like we’d hoped. There is no rhyme or reason why this happens and who it happens to – as my therapist likes to tell me “it’s just dumb luck.” Sometimes luck isn’t on our side. Sometimes that luck turns around, and sometimes it doesn’t. Just know that as much as I want to believe it, it's hard for me to get on board with the idea that things will work out for Gordon and I, and we will get our happy ending. Being dealt a year and a half of the worst possible luck will do that to a person. It’s not negativity – it’s learned response.