There are no words that can describe the hell of losing a baby. I have had a number of infertility patients recently who have experienced loss. They call me, despondent, frightened and scared that their loss will recur. They stop in my office, shut the door, pace or sit, and cry or rage about the unfairness of it all. Know what? They are right. One out of six of us will go through infertility. I would like to see the statistic of average length of time spent in fertility therapy, because the longer fertility treatment goes on, the more likely that the patient becomes depressed, hopeless, sad and angry.
I’d like to talk a little about grief. Of course Kubler-Ross’s work was seminal and set the stage for fantastic advances, partly by taking grief out of the closet. I have taken lots of grief courses over the years and what I have learned is no family endures it the same: some are livid, other members are sad, and some are positive. The point is that every death and grief experience is different, and the same holds true for infertility.
I get asked a lot from patients: Is what I’m feeling normal? My response is, “What is normal? You are allowed to feel any way that you do.” You see, we get so caught up in being perfectly put together, it’s alluring to think that if we try just hard enough — add another acupuncture session, eat raw food, swear off cranberry bliss bars, then we will “deserve” a baby. And what I have to tell you from the front lines of reproductive endocrinology is that there is not fairness. There is biology, and there is human reproduction which any Ob/Gyn will tell you is very inefficient. There are flawed gametes and counterintuitive hormones. So, yes, whatever you feel is normal. And whenever you feel it, it is normal. The Pampers aisle in the store is a for sure, certain commercials, women pushing carriages, Hallmark anything, and people at work who love to recount the details of their labors. All of these and many more are triggers — even years after losses.
In sum. Grief is a patient, wily beast, which will strike from a position of power and seem to render you useless. This is an abject lie. In your grief lies your strength to persevere, to protect yourself, to help others and to prepare for parenthood — however you ultimately become parents. And, yes, I really believe that if you stay the course, you will become parents one way or another.
