Two Poems from Marottek
Alienation
We alienate ourselves
when we are infertile
glaring at every pregnant belly
judging every stressed out mother
obsessing about our bodies
never letting anyone forget how
painful this is.
We put ourselves in a room
with only other infertile women
to commiserate with,
wallowing in our common ailments,
analyzing every treatment, every
twinge, every symptom.
Hoping beyond hope
that THIS will be THE MONTH.
The month that we are no longer
infertile,
but blessed with pregnancy.
We wait and wait
we cry and talk and vent and
console.
Then IT happens.
The home pregnancy test is positive.
We are glorious with happiness,
yet filled with fear that something
bad will happen.
Elated that FINALLY it worked,
but sick to my stomach that this
baby will die too.
Suddenly we are not infertile
anymore,
we have joined the ranks of pregnant
bellies.
But somehow, I do not fit there,
for I still remember
the pain of trying and waiting
and the numerous negatives that
shattered me.
But I don't fit in the Infertile
world anymore,
because I am now the enemy.
They, my friends last week,
now glare at my belly, jealous
of my womb.
But I have done it too.
I said, "Oh congratulations,
I am so happy for you!"
When, really, inside, I was dying.
I wanted it for ME!!!!!!
But now, here I am, pregnant.
And causing pain to those friends
who
just days ago,
I totally related to.
Now.......here I am, moving on,
all by myself.
Where do I fit?
I am scared to death, but afraid
to tell them,
for I don't want to hurt them,
to have them lash out at ME!
Emotionally, I have never been
more vulnerable.
And at the time that I need friends
the most,
all seem to have abandoned me.
I cry out in my despair,
and all I get is reprimanded.
How is it, that I, once one of
them,
am now the enemy?
The
knowing does not help
Knowing that I should
be feeling ripping labor
pains
does not make it any easier to
handle
the terrible truth that you are
gone.
Knowing I should be holding
you close this month
does not ease the wreched pain
that your aching absence brings.
Knowing that I lost you
before I felt you move
and that I never even saw you
does not bring me any sweet comfort.
For you were real, and
you were loved
and you were so wanted.
You were our baby.
But knowing that I should
be holding you now,
maybe that's the hardest part
of all,
when I have nothing to hold,
not even a memory.
Knowing that you are in
heaven
does not ease this ache in my
hurting heart,
it does not fill my empty arms.
Knowing all this
seems to just make it all so
much worse,
and I just ache for you.
Dedication
for Baby Bean who was miscarried
12/21/03 at 7 weeks gestation
and due to be born on August
3rd, 2004
