By: Amy Lied
It’s been 6 years since our firstborn, our son, was stillborn, after struggling with infertility and suffering a miscarriage previously.
Since then we have brought home twin girls, for whom we are immensely grateful.
However, despite the joy of our daughters, the pain remains from our journey to parenthood.
In the four years that it took for us to bring home living children, I watched as others in my life went on to have multiple pregnancies that ended with the birth of multiple, healthy, ALIVE, babies.
Even after “beating infertility”, aka having children, I still struggle with the families who seem to pop out baby after baby. The “fertile Myrtles” still hurt my heart.
The people who just naturally have twins, when mine are a direct result of the fact that we had to struggle and sought medical intervention.
In addition to seeing people get pregnant easily, what they are pregnant with can be incredibly painful. Unless you are a fellow loss mom or an empathetic friend, finding out that others are having boys, since losing our son, is a dagger to my broken, mama heart.
Hearing talk about having a son to carry on the family name is devastating.
It hurts to see others have, not what I want, but what I SHOULD have.
I should have a boy here.
My husband had his boy to carry on the family name, but he died with no explanation.
Why isn’t our son here when others get to keep theirs?
I resent the fact that I wasn’t one of those fertile people who get to keep their son.
I resent that I had to do so much more than most (and yet, also less than many others who struggle with infertility) to have my children.
I resent that my son died, and I have to live with the pain of that loss for the rest of my life.
While the saying goes “happy for them, sad for me”, I can honestly say any happiness I feel for them is overshadowed by the overwhelming sadness I feel for myself, my husband, and our experience.
Can I put on a brave face and send wishes of “Congratulations” and “we are so happy for you”?
Sure, I can.
But when I’m alone, do the tears freely fall over all we have lost on our journey?
100% they do, and that is okay because I carry a weight most people will never understand, and the happiness of others can be a blatant reminder of that.
About Amy Lied
Amy Lied is a wife and a mother. Her son, Asher, was inexplicably born still on February 19th, 2017. Before losing Asher, she suffered a miscarriage and struggled with unexplained infertility. After losing Asher and struggling to conceive again, she went back to treatment where she became pregnant with her twin daughters; Harper and Scarlett.
She has documented her journey from the beginning of her infertility struggles on her blog, Doggie Bags Not Diaper Bags. She is also a co-founder of The Lucky Anchor Project, an online resource for loss families that houses an Etsy store whose profits are donated to loss family non-profit organizations. Sharing her journey has helped her cope and she hopes it also helps others who are walking on this road of life after loss.