"Baby? Do you just need to cry?" My husband asked softly. Instead of trying to answer through my sobs, I just nodded my head, hoping he could see my response in our dim bedroom.
"O.K.," he said as he laid down beside me to rub my back. I sniffed and continued to water my pillow with tears.
The proof was on the toilet tissue. Our third IUI had failed. Why had I been more hopeful this time? Maybe it was because I gave up my beloved coffee. Maybe it was my change in diet. Or perhaps it was because the doctor said that my insemination was the easiest one she ever had to do. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter. All my hopes were crushed... AGAIN.
It may appear a little strange, mourning a child that never existed, but that is exactly what this is. Maybe, maybe it is also the death of dreams that I mourn. Maybe it is that fantasy of seeing the look on my husband's face when the sound of our little one's heart beat is heard for the first time. Or perhaps the gasps of amazement when he can feel the little kicks for the first time. Or the tears of joy that come rushing down when we hear his or her first cry. Maybe, but for now, the only rushing tears I have are tears of loss.
To all other couples mourning a child that never existed, believe me when I say, "I feel your pain." I know what it is like to hide behind a smile at work. I know the gash you feel in your heart when people say, " don't worry, it could still happen," or worse yet, "You want a kid? Take one of mine!" I know. I KNOW! I hurt and cry with you.
Hopefully, we may all find peace one day. Whether it be through a higher power or ourselves, we will find peace. Oh, I am not saying I'm giving up yet. I'll sacrifice everything before I do. After all, isn't that what mothers do?
