I asked some of the women if it would be ok to share some of the things they shared with me. Each quote is from a different woman:
"Although it is also hard for me to see post after post of newborns, I try to be happy for them. And I am. I am just sad for me."
"Infertility should be called "Endless Grieving!" I wish the old saying "Time will heal your pain" was true, but for infertility time causes more pain. Its pain is ongoing and raw all the time. Your blog reminds people of just how blessed they are...myself included."
"Today was the first day I've been on Facebook since our second miscarriage and I think God was telling me it was ok to log on so that I could read your blog post. I am so sorry for what you are going through and I just cried reading your post. Like you, I have hidden updates from my pregnant friends since our first loss and completely stayed off Facebook for the entire past month- It's just so painful to see announcements, ultrasound pictures, and people complaining about their pregnancy. Like you said, there are some people who would kill to be in their shoes."
"I use to cry in the car lot! And talk to whoever would listen. I remember I would stand in the mall at Christmas time and watch the kids on Santa's lap and cry! Because I thought I would never join the mommy club! It is a lonely journey and I understand."
"My heart breaks every time I get my period, I sob and sob too, praying for a miracle or the strength to accept that I will never feel a baby move inside me again. Like you, I can't bear the sight of pregnant women or the news of a new pregnancy on Facebook...I feel selfish and angry at myself for not being more grateful for what I've already been given....but as you know, your heart breaks when it breaks, regardless."
"Just the other day at work I was told to relax, I nearly poked her eye out with my fork as I ate my salad I couldn't help it but tears streamed down my face."
As weird as it sounds I was sad after I clicked the "Publish" button on my blog yesterday because now...people know. For a year I had pondered keeping it in because I wanted people to think that we had our babies naturally. Good ol' fashion bow-chicka-wow-wowing. But now, I worry that people might think "oh, lab baby." Or if we have multiples they won't find them as miraculous or adorable. If you're honest with yourself, there might be a small, teeny tiny part of you that feels that way.
While reading all the information that was given to us that day at the infertility clinic I breezed through all the parts about the self injections, increased risk of cancer due to hormone therapy, hyperstimulation of the ovaries, etc. - what stopped me in my tracks and brought me to tears was when I read that I would not be able to take a home pregnancy test. I know, dumb right? It said that I will be on so many hormones that the store-bought tests will likely show a +. I cried (as I often do) and I actually had to grieve peeing on a stick! I thought I must be out of my mind! Throughout my life and up to that very moment I had always imagined myself secretly buying a home pregnancy test. I'd probably smile ear-to-ear as the cashier scanned its barcode. I planned on waking up earlier than Eddie to take the test alone. I dreamed of the moment when it would just be me alone in the bathroom and the only two that knew I was pregnant would be me and God. What a glorious moment that must be! The rush you must feel when you see the + or the two lines or the smiley face or whatever develop. It must feel like you're bursting at the seams to tell everyone! I used to fantasize about cute ways that I would tell Eddie the news that he would be a daddy. Oh the look on his face! ::bubble burst:: But no. That's gone. When we find out, there is a chance that I will be half naked at the end of a table with doctors, nurses, and/or technicians surrounding Eddie and I. Not as romantic as my other illusions.
Infertility is best described this way - you have kids right? ("No." Ok well shush, pretend you do.) The feeling that parents feel when their baby is born, you know, the highest of highs? Well from time-to-time, that's how I feel about infertility...only negate that into the lowest of lows. The exact mirror image of that joy would be my despair. Their hope is comparable to my bitterness. The peace that they feel at that moment is at the same level the ache in my heart.
When I cry to my mom on the phone about it she just let's me get it all out (or maybe she's received these phone calls a dozen times and is focusing on her work). Love you, Ma! After I spit it all out she simply says "I don't know how you feel." or "I can't even imagine." That's also a perfectly acceptable thing to say. I welcome it! You don't get it unless you get it. To pretend you understand would be a mistake. This is coming from a mother of four, my youngest brother being a tearful surprise. (Love you, Bronson!) My parents had to actually turn to science to correct how fertile they were! I have no choice but to laugh at the irony.
Please don't feel like I am massively depressed. I have many-a good day. I love my life and my husband and wouldn't swap with any one else. Each of my prayers begins with giving thanks for all that I do have. It's just those hard days or those moments when I'm feeling down and something hits me right on that nerve/sore spot...and I crumble. Thanks again for all your support but if this is what "strong" is I can't imagine my weak side.
Photo courtesy of JF Photography.
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