Two Good Eggs

Two cracked eggs find the sunnyside (and funny side) of trying to conceive

Entropy: Quiet Chaos & Questionable Optimism

on October 26, 2012

I have found myself navigating a labyrinth, the turns and dead ends pushing me to think openly, though most importantly, realistically. I try to cling tightly to a philosophy of “sunshine and rainbows,”  but as our attempts continue to fail, the skies become overcast and the hues are a little less brilliant. I’m in denial and, frankly, I’m exhausted by the endless optimism that pours from my lips as I cry inside. If I admit defeat or struggle publicly, it is momentary and whisked away swiftly by a smile and feigned hope. I have become two people, one who speaks and denies her emotions, and one who feels and fails to speak.

I’m living in a false utopia in which I fantasize about tiny toes, tired tears, and swaddling blankets, and consciously ignore the poor test results, delays, expensive treatments, and realistic probabilities. “It will get easier,” I lie, knowing very well this climb is far from its apex. I refuse to accept reality and I am therefore trapped in a state of entropy.

At the beginning of this journey, we were faced with what can only now be described as foreshadowing. I became pregnant rather quickly after we decided the time was right, only to be relegated to a statistically insignificant woman who miscarried. “It’s very common.” And so are car accidents and cancer, and I would never deny that pain.  “But it was early on.” Not too early for me to spend hours crying in the bottom of the shower. “It just wasn’t God’s time for you.” No comment. I thought that would be it. One disappointment. A single lesson on loss, desire, strength, and togetherness. I was mistaken. Taking into account all the lessons we’ve learned the hard way,  it is safe to say we have minored in Disappointment, and that first instance was just a glimmer of what was to come.

And so the process repeats, month after month, with no success. Each new path or method presents itself under a bright spotlight, shining with possibility and interpreted as promissory. I fool myself, once again, into believing we’ve found the golden ticket only to uncover Pandora’s Box. The road forks and the dichotomy deepens. Surely, this will better prepare me for motherhood, the uncertainty, commitment, selflessness, and fatigue. I believe it’s already begun to make me a better friend to other women. A new sense of compassion and understanding is emerging, but the impatience for my own desires has not faded.

No one really wants to talk about the loss or our struggle, and those who do offer guarded platitudes, often rich in misunderstanding. We have reached a point where relaxation, diet, and timing are no longer key elements to conception. Now, the horizon is full of needles, medication, intervention, and paper gowns. I’m scared. And now, more than ever, is the time we need support and understanding, but I’m hesitant to genuinely accept the words of others even though I so badly want to be nestled in their comforting embraces. I speak up and regret it. I stay silent and want to reach out. Entropy.

I’m struggling with the optimism that serves as the the foundation of my personality, and the recurrent unfavorable news that should crush my resolve, but does not. I wonder if I’m actually living in the moment. Am I dealing with this properly? Attitude makes all the difference, they say, but maybe I’m avoiding reality by remaining positive. It’s my defense mechanism. Smiles triumph over defeat. Or do they? Perhaps, smiling is a bandage that covers the wound until the adhesive wears weak.

Until I figure this out, if I ever do, I’ll keep a smile plastered on my face as the chaos brews deep within. Fake it ’til you make it, I guess. It seems as though so many parts of my life are just a big question mark right now. I just want some resolution. How do you deal with uncertainty and road blocks?


11 responses to “Entropy: Quiet Chaos & Questionable Optimism

  1. beedleboop says:

    I’m so sorry. This process is the pits…you’re not alone. I’ve hit a similar breaking point!

  2. ivfmale says:

    Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.

    –Thich Nhat Hanh

  3. Megan says:

    SunnySide, I can’t begin to tell you how much I needed to read this today.

    A week ago today, I found out I was pregnant. My husband and I had a romantic weekend getaway planned and I told him our good news. We had a week of utter happiness until yesterday, when I went to the doctor concerned over some spotting and was told I was losing the pregnancy. I am utterly devastated. And while we haven’t had to go down the road of medical intervention, I can completely relate to the platitudes and the feeling of not knowing who or how to be now. I was told by the doctor that it wasn’t anything I did, it just happens. My (pregnant) best friend told me that at least I knew I was fertile and so many women get pregnant the month after they lose a pregnancy. And my husband said we can’t understand God’s timing, then rolled over and went to sleep. Words, words, words. And in the meantime, who am I now? How should I act? Nobody talks about this.

    I’m sorry I can’t give you any coping advice or strategies. I guess all I want to say is, you aren’t alone. There’s got to be a whole slew of women, struggling silently but desperate for community. Hell, you’ve got one of them typing sob stories in your comments section right now.

    • SunnySide says:

      Megan,
      I am so so sorry. Having great news torn away with no explanation, and so few people around who know what to say, is one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. I’m here for you. I went through (and still do) so many emotions after my early miscarriage: sadness, anger, hope, denial, frustration, envy, loneliness, etc. You are the same person you were a few days ago, but now you’ve got some tears, doubt, valuable perspective, and a higher tolerance for pain and struggle. You are stronger now. Act however feels natural to you. I’m pretty open so I told people because it made me feel better, although their responses were less than satisfying. Give yourself the time to grieve in whatever way feels most comfortable to you: crying, punching stuff, shopping, sleeping, writing, wine, food, yelling, honking for no reason. Get it all out 🙂 if you’re having a tough day, email me. It’s no fun to feel so alone. And Scrambled and I have both been there. We are all a team! Toogoodeggs@gmail.com. Big hugs to you!

  4. Natalie says:

    I’m sorry you’re having all of these feelings. All the things you are feeling are completely valid. Try not to lose hope and rest assured many people are thinking of you and praying.

  5. Giggles says:

    I’ve had my moments of irrational optimism through all this. Whenever my husband, who is the grounding realist in our relationship (and I deeply appreciate that he is that for me, we balance), reminds me of reality I tell him I have to hope. I have to plan for it to work. If I couldn’t do that I couldn’t move forward. We both know that when I build myself up each month the fall gets harder and harder and he just wants to protect me from higher falls. I’ve got this grief process down after cycling through it month after month for so long now, yet I keep hoping. I have to.

    • SunnySide says:

      Giggles, Thank you for sharing this with me. It’s nice to know I’m not alone with these crazy hopes despite the brutal, repetitive falls each month. Realist husbands are perfect for women like us. They keep us grounded, but give us the freedom to dream big.

  6. Scrambled says:

    I ❤ you. That is all. 🙂

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