Grieving in Isolation

I have still cried or teared up every day, but maybe today I won’t. I am starting to feel closer to normal. That means it has been a relatively good day.

Overall, though, this has been the most isolating experience of my life. So many times in my life I’ve embarked upon some unique journey, yet this stands out above the rest. When I was one of the few in my friend group as a teen who was perpetually single, I felt isolated, but I made the best of it. When I realized I was going to be the last to get married (assuming I ever get married), I felt isolated, but I soon learned that there are plenty of single women who want to get married - so we suffer together. When I had a tumor and had to have major surgery to remove an ovary at 27 years old, I was frightened and the only person I knew to have gone through something like that. In the decade to come, I’d find a handful of others, but I still feel like that was a fairly unique experience.

When I decided to pursue single motherhood by choice and try to get pregnant with the use of an anonymous donor, I knew I would be embarking upon a unique journey that would feel quite isolating at times. I never could have known where it would lead me, though. Now, as I continue to wrestle with the confusion of having experienced a rare molar pregnancy, I realize just how alone I am in this. My network of single mothers by choice does include a number of women who have experienced miscarriages, but only one or two nationwide who have ever had a molar pregnancy (and not all have had the same type of molar). The support network for molar pregnancies has also not helped this feeling of isolation because, aside from the fact that most of the women live in the UK, almost all are married and so far none have come out as single mothers by choice who went through fertility treatments to get pregnant on their own.

So many times when going through grief, it is easy to feel as if I live on an island of my own - that I am grieving alone. However, most of the time, I can find someone who can relate… or at the very least, I can Google an article or find a discussion board about my situation that helps me feel less isolated. My current story is so unique that Google can’t help me. There are no articles with advice about how single women are supposed to handle the ongoing trauma of dealing with a molar pregnancy. There is no article from some other single woman who has wrestled with the confusion and emotions I am processing right now… the unknowns and the fears are unique to this condition. There is no support group for single women in their mid-late 30s who went through IUI with an anonymous donor to get pregnant and ended up with a molar pregnancy. I am truly alone in this.

There is no parallel to instantly going from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows - expecting to hear a fetal heartbeat and instead being dealt this blow… add to that the period of unknowns and testing and waiting and potentially more lows, all while walking this path alone. Even knowing that things will likely be okay in a year, the experience is a special kind of hell that only a select few will ever understand, and even fewer are single women walking through this hell alone. I know, I know… I have amazing people supporting me, and I’m most definitely grateful for that. Still, at the end of the day, I am the one who was most invested in this pregnancy and the only one physically going through a hormonal nightmare for the next month or so.

I have gotten to the point where I’m good at talking about it because I have created an internal script of what to say… I’m tired of talking about health issues because this is unlike any other health issue. I don’t even know how to describe it. I will recite my script to anyone who cares to hear about it, but I’m really kind of tired of talking about it (that’s why I write). I am doing fine today, but tomorrow might suck again. This is not going away any time soon, and I will not know what’s next for quite some time. I am in limbo for at least 6 months, and I will not be able to enjoy my time away from trying to conceive until I know for sure that I am not in the 20% who end up having to go through chemo, in which case the limbo becomes a lot longer. I know I should be hopeful and positive and believe I’m in the 80%, but I am too much of a realist at this point. I’d rather be prepared for the worst and celebrate any other outcome.

If I’m lucky and my levels drop to negative soon enough, I’ll take full advantage of the next 6 months, and I will be grateful for the freedom while I have it. However, I’m not getting ahead of myself… I already did that when I began to be hopeful about the pregnancy and think of my future child. My heart and mind cannot handle any more disappointment so soon, so I’m going to be a bit cynical… I think I’ve earned that for now.