I don't want a replacement baby.
I don't.
I think the absolute least helpful thing in my grieving process is to be told that I'm young enough to have another baby, that I can hold or visit some other newborn, or that there's adoption, surrogacy, and fertility treatments.
I am fully aware, and need no further reminding, of my chances of future motherhood. Every pregnancy has a 20% chance of miscarriage, more so earlier on. There's a 10% chance of another ectopic, and an 8% chance of tertiary miscarriage. My chances of having another heterotopic miscarriage, like the one I just had, are 1 in 30,000 without fertility methods. All together, there's a good 18% likelihood, even with my terrible, approximate, never-took-stats math skills that I'll never have a living, breathing child.
I've had three dead babies. I think that's enough for now, don't you? Enough to not mention trying to conceive, or meeting your unborn children for the "healing that only small children can bring".
Enough to deal with.
Even if I wanted to think about it right now (which I don't, in case you forgot from above) it isn't medically advisable to try so soon. I just spent a month bleeding vaginally and internally, had surgery, and finished finals. There's no way I could physically support trying again to any success.
I appreciate that no one "means it like that". It's all goodhearted and whatnot. Just trying to comfort, and so forth. But miscarriage occurs at a 1 in 5 rate any way, so you're bound to run into someone else going through at least generally what I've been through this month. Writing all of these numbers down, finalizing what they really mean, is worth it to me if I can prevent someone else from having to deal with the insensitive and rude comments that just flood the gates.
If I'd had my appendix or gallbladder out, no one would dare look me in the eye and ask me when my husband and I plan to have sex for the intent of babies.
This is no different, only, they took my uterine tube out. It's surgery. It's a rough recovery, even if I hadn't had to wait until I'd been bleeding internally for three days to have a surgical consult. There's grief involved, and I think it's appropriate to try to deal with that. Just not with replacement babies.
So please
-unless I've specifically brought up the subject, or you're my gynecologist-
Stop asking about my sex life.
I don't.
I think the absolute least helpful thing in my grieving process is to be told that I'm young enough to have another baby, that I can hold or visit some other newborn, or that there's adoption, surrogacy, and fertility treatments.
I am fully aware, and need no further reminding, of my chances of future motherhood. Every pregnancy has a 20% chance of miscarriage, more so earlier on. There's a 10% chance of another ectopic, and an 8% chance of tertiary miscarriage. My chances of having another heterotopic miscarriage, like the one I just had, are 1 in 30,000 without fertility methods. All together, there's a good 18% likelihood, even with my terrible, approximate, never-took-stats math skills that I'll never have a living, breathing child.
I've had three dead babies. I think that's enough for now, don't you? Enough to not mention trying to conceive, or meeting your unborn children for the "healing that only small children can bring".
Enough to deal with.
Even if I wanted to think about it right now (which I don't, in case you forgot from above) it isn't medically advisable to try so soon. I just spent a month bleeding vaginally and internally, had surgery, and finished finals. There's no way I could physically support trying again to any success.
I appreciate that no one "means it like that". It's all goodhearted and whatnot. Just trying to comfort, and so forth. But miscarriage occurs at a 1 in 5 rate any way, so you're bound to run into someone else going through at least generally what I've been through this month. Writing all of these numbers down, finalizing what they really mean, is worth it to me if I can prevent someone else from having to deal with the insensitive and rude comments that just flood the gates.
If I'd had my appendix or gallbladder out, no one would dare look me in the eye and ask me when my husband and I plan to have sex for the intent of babies.
This is no different, only, they took my uterine tube out. It's surgery. It's a rough recovery, even if I hadn't had to wait until I'd been bleeding internally for three days to have a surgical consult. There's grief involved, and I think it's appropriate to try to deal with that. Just not with replacement babies.
So please
-unless I've specifically brought up the subject, or you're my gynecologist-
Stop asking about my sex life.
Amen. I'm sorry you've had to deal with ridiculous comments - I think people in general just don't know how to handle loss. I'm so glad to say, you do. Thank you for facing this head on and thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteAlicia,
ReplyDeleteI'm proud to know you. You are a magnificently intelligent, compassionate, sensitive soul. You inspire me to expand my self to be a better self. I grieve with you for your loss. If I could think of anything at all that would help relieve your pain, I would gladly move forward with it. As it is, I continue to lift you up to the only true Comforter, and ask that he engulf you in his love and care throughout your process.
I love you.
Amy