Not So Happy Announcements

Nothing can ruin my day quite like a pregnancy or birth announcement. It’s something I’m not proud of, and quite frankly, an aspect of my new normal that I downright hate. I’ve had to endure many of them over the past year and a half, and each one comes with pain, shame, guilt, anger, jealousy, and a feeling of defeat. Very rarely does happiness enter that emotional equation, which leads to a type of self-loathing that I have never experienced before in my life.

Celebrity announcements are the worst. You don’t even want to know my reaction to Jessica Simpson and Kim Kardashian. I don’t even know these women, and yet I can feel the bile rise in my throat every time I see a story about them. I don’t wish for bad things to happen to them or their babies (I’m not that terrible). I just want them to go away. I don’t want to hear about how easy it is for them or monitor their baby bumps and cravings. I like my celebrity gossip and read People and US Weekly online every day. Lately, I have to scroll quickly through their newsfeeds to skip the multitude of stories about them each day. You really have no idea how many celebrities are procreating until you’re trying to avoid news about it.

Then there are the strangers on Facebook. The ones where I have to see their announcements, comments, ultrasound pictures, and new baby photos because my friends comment on them, and Facebook thinks I want to know about that (oh how little you know me, Facebook). More people that I don’t know, but can cause tears to flow seemingly from nowhere.

And then there are my poor friends. I have a couple of friends who have had the misfortune of having to tell me in person that they are expecting. Bless their hearts, they tried to do the right thing and tell me privately (which, by the way, is the right thing to do). I remember one friend who had to tell me her good news just weeks after Vivienne died. I can still see the fear in her face at having to tell me she was pregnant. It was the happiest time of her life, but you’d never know it by how she felt having to tell me.

It’s no one’s fault that this happens. I certainly don’t expect people not to get pregnant, or to not be happy about expecting a baby. I don’t expect people not to share their joy in welcoming their child to the world. This is a situation without a good resolution. Unfortunately, some people’s happiness causes me pain. It doesn’t make their happiness wrong, and it doesn’t make my pain wrong. It just is. It’s an unfortunate aspect of how I live my life now, and one that I wish more than I can say I could make go away.

I have to admit that I had a lot of hesitation in writing this post. It’s not an easy thing to admit that you can’t be happy for people when they have good news, but unfortunately, it’s true. I really wish that I could find happiness for them, but if I’m being honest (which I vowed to be when I started this blog), I only feel bitter. And that bitterness cycles into me feeling like a bad person because I SHOULD be happy for them, but I can’t. It’s a spiraling of bad emotions that I really can’t do anything to prevent or stop. Another aspect of this “new normal” that I completely despise.

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.

Will it ever stop?

That’s the question on my mind these days. It’s been 9 months since we lost Vivienne, which I know reads like a long time to a lot of people. I also know that it reads like such a short period of time to the people who have walked this path ahead of me. But still, it’s been 9 months, and I wonder if it will ever stop.

It is still more painful than I can describe to hear other women announce their pregnancies, seeing birth announcements, new pictures posted of the baby, and all of the cute things that your baby/child does. I want to be happy for people experiencing these blessings, but I have to admit, it’s hard. And it’s not getting any easier.

I thought with time, the bitterness would fade. I’m hopeful that it still will, because it’s not a feeling I enjoy. But I can’t imagine a time when I won’t feel bitter that I don’t get to have my daughter with me. I don’t know how it’s possible to not be bitter when so much has been taken from you.

When I was pregnant with Vivienne, it felt like the whole world was pregnant at the same time. I know that sounds like an exaggeration, but it really was a baby boom at my office, and I had multiple friends pregnant at the same time. After Vivienne died, I watched each of them go on to have healthy babies. I got the messages at work or on Facebook that proudly welcomed their children into the world. I tried to take the high road and send my congratulations, which was usually (not always) met with a kind note in return. Let me tell you though, the high road is a painful place.

If you watch, you can see by my face and body language the exact moment it happens—the precise moment I feel the little dagger in my heart at someone else’s happy baby talk. Sometimes, it’s just a twitch of my face. Most of the time, I lower my head and wonder if I can will myself into the walls to remove myself from the situation. Every time someone shows an ultrasound picture, talks about being pregnant, mentions being up with a fussy or sick baby, watching her smile/laugh/roll over, pictures for every month of the baby’s life, going to the park/zoo/games, birthdays, preschool graduations. . .you get the point. The list goes on and on. And it still hurts every time.

It’s not that I don’t want good things for other people. Of course I’m happy for the good fortune of others, but I can’t help but see it as a reminder of our bad fortune. And I would never want people to stop sharing their lives—happy events should be shared. What I really wonder is will I ever be able to just be happy for those people or will there always be a twinge of bitterness to it? Will the bitterness ever stop? I don’t want to live my life as a bitter person always focused on what everyone else has that I don’t. But, it’s not like I envy someone’s house, car, or job. It’s that they get to have their child with them to raise. I will never have that with Vivienne. That’s a pretty big one.

It is hard for me to accept that the bitterness may never stop. It may always be hard for me to be truly happy for others’ happy pregnancy/baby/child moments, without having a sliver of bitterness along with it. That’s not who I want to be, but it doesn’t feel like something I can control.