This week is National Infertility Awareness Week.
To be quite honest, I am going to type this - without being 100% certain that it will even be posted. After all, for years now - Matt and I have carried around this heavy "secret". And I'm not entirely sure we're ready to announce it to the world just yet.
And should this post get actually
posted, then the cat would be officially out of the bag. So, why would I even want to share this?
Multiple reasons: To me, writing is self therapeutic, also -- to stop the questions/assumptions, to bring awareness to the ongoing heartache that is my secret, to express my anger, my guilt, my envy, and the million other emotions I feel on a daily basis, to help me find peace, support, and lastly, to let others know they're not alone.
I mean, everywhere I look - this secret surrounds me. Facebook posts. Friends. Events. Work. The grocery store. Our neighborhood. Church. Everywhere.
This secret (at times) has turned me into into the most cold-hearted person. Angry. Resentful. Jealous. Bitter. Judgmental.
And at other times, this secret has rattled my faith so much, and made me even question what I want out of life.
For months now, I've tried to put on a front. Like it didn't even bother me. That I was totally okay with this secret. And through my lies - I tried to convince myself --- But it never worked. After all, I knew what I wanted. I've always wanted it - even since I was a child myself.
I've been indecisive. Changing my mind. Putting Matt through an emotional roller coaster. Saying "I want this" - "No, I want that" - "Let's do it this way" - "Let's not even do it at all" My close friends have been along for this roller coaster, and know exactly what I mean.
I've had people who know my secret that don't understand at all the torment that I live each and everyday. I've had acquaintances who don't know my secret - but could shake me over a single phrase they absentmindedly say.
This secret has put our marriage through hell and back. Tearing us apart, but bringing us back even closer than we ever were before. This secret is a loss. Just like a death. That made us grieve. And even still does to some extent today.
And this secret will never,
ever go away. There will always be a void. And I'm learning daily how to manage that emptiness and all of my emotions.
So -- what is our secret?
"The best way I can describe infertility is to ask a parent to imagine a world in which their child did not exist. I live that reality each and every day."
-Anonymous
My unedited, unfiltered, infertile thoughts:
I have a huge lump in my throat, and I'm holding back my tears as I type. To be completely honest, I've been in this dark place for a long, long time. Most days, I fake it. And I live off the high of my fake happiness. Sometimes I even believe myself. But other days, I crash. Days like today.
I've lost count of how many times I've cried at my desk. Hiding in my tears. Fixing my makeup. Trying to pretend to be anything but devastated.
And let me make myself clear. There is absolutely zero chance that we will ever have our own biological child. In sharing my secret to few, I've heard;
"Never give up. There's always hope." And I can tell you right now, with certainty, that there's not.
That's a huge pill to swallow. But it also helps us cope with our pain. Not knowing and/or hoping that it
could happen would be more tough to handle, I think.
I have considered deleting my Facebook so many times, for this reason. It's tough. Especially when I'm at that prime age where all my friends (who want to have children right now) are having children. I feel like I've been left behind. That I no longer fit in with my group of friends that I practically grew up with. This is another loss. And it eats at me everyday with every new birth/pregnancy announcement.
It hurts knowing we can't give our parents grandchildren right now. And it hurts that our possible future child will be light-years away from their cousins and our friends' children in age. This is our reality.
Its very hard for an infertile woman
to read posts/hear mothers complaining about the inconveniences of
pregnancy or being a parent. I imagine its tough. But please try to think of
the others who would give anything to be in your shoes.
Comments I've heard that drive me crazy:
Fake pregnancy announcements on April Fools Day.
Upon meeting someone for the first time, getting asked:
"Do you have any kids?" Just because I am married does not mean I automatically have or will have children. Some people cannot, and I'm one of them.
"Just relax and trust in God's plan"
"Women are meant to carry children." -- Wait, did we just go back in time to the 1800s?
"Have fun and don't stress. You're newlyweds."
"I know someone who adopted then got pregnant right away. Maybe that will happen to you, too" Um, not a single chance. But thanks?
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Actually, its just made me more cynical and pessimistic.
"You can always adopt." Do YOU have an extra $35,000 laying around? Because we don't.
Speaking of: Before I even knew about our infertility, I was interested in adoption.
But adoption (like infertility) is a very long, emotional, expensive, and risky process. It's not as easy as people think. Not only do we need to pick a program (domestic, foster, international) - but we also need to be financially ready. And $35,000 is not just me over-exaggerating. Most times, its even more than that. And please spare me on the insurance covered hospital bills that people get from delivering their child. Yeah, we know. We'd have to cover the birth mother's medical bills/living expenses, too - ON TOP of the 35K.
This puts even more pressure on us. The need to make more money or get a promotion - so we can simply have a child. Yes, there are tax credits, loans, and fundraisers. But I can't even express how aggravating it is to have to PAY an extreme amount of money so I can be a mother. I don't want to ask my friends for fundraising money. I don't want to take out a 40K loan. And a tax credit is just that - a credit. Meaning I have to OWE that much money in taxes to get it paid for.
Adoption can take 2-3 years start to finish. And each and every piece of our lives will get dissected and looked through. Adoption is risky. A birth mother has up to 30 days to change her mind in most states. Can you even imagine getting your newborn taken from you on Day 29?
And lastly, adoption is extremely emotional.
The [unexpected] upside:
Infertility got me writing. First with my journal to our [someday] child, and secondly, starting this blog.
Infertility got us back in Church:
Infertility brought out my holistic inner HIPPY: Gluten Free, plant-based diet, Yoga, All-Organic, seeing a chiropractor, massage therapy, essential oils, acupuncture, you name it. I've tried it.
Infertility brought Matt and I closer - and made us appreciate our furbabies even more (who made me a Mommy in the not-so-conventional way and who comforted me probably ten times more than I could ever comfort them).
And through all these "hurtful" or "frustrating" comments - I've also had so much support and love. From my husband. My family. And my friends. I specifically remember sitting at the table after a few glasses of wine on Friendsgiving watching my friends cry for me. Expressing how mad and upset they were that we couldn't have kids. All the while, I was comforting them, and letting them know that things will eventually work out for us. I've had people offer to carry a baby for me. Your selflessness has not gone unnoticed. (Thank you - and you know who you are). And I'll tell ya one thing for sure: God has blessed me with a wonderful support system.
I've come to realize that infertility has changed me. I miss finding
comfort in my faith. A plan or not? I guess only time will tell.
So what does the future hold?
I honestly don't know. Maybe lots of fun, exotic vacations and an endless amount of rescue pups. Probably adoption.
Definitely nothing soon, and I'm mostly okay with that.
Right now, I'm focusing on our pursuit of happiness. I want to rebuild my faith. My optimism. My love for life. And enjoy each day in the NOW.
I've lost so much time wishing for the future.
I suppose this will get posted: so since it will be out in the open - I ask this:
Please don't get offended if I don't attend your baby shower. I'm happy for you, but it's also very hard for me.
Please
don't get offended if I don't want to hold your baby. I think they're
adorable, and I'm happy for you, but it's also very hard for me.
If
you're pregnant - I'm happy for you, but it's also really hard for me.
If we're close friends - it'll be A LOT easier for me to deal with your announcement in
a private conversation vs seeing it posted on your Facebook with eleventy billion likes/comments. If we're close friends and you know of someone else's announcement coming soon, it'll be A LOT easier for me to deal with it in a private conversation vs seeing their annoucement on Facebook.
Delicacy is key. I'll thank you forever.
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| Lastly, if I offended anyone in this post, I'm truly sorry. It's hard expressing feelings with my sometimes bitter thoughts, in fear that I may lose a friend or two. But I'm being honest. And that's all I can be at this point. |
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I'm slowly realizing that it's okay
to be different. And that it's okay if we adopt in 5-10 years. That we
don't have to fit into the mold of our friends or our sisters. And that
maybe, just maybe - it will be better that way.
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| Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— | |
| I took the one less traveled by, | |
| And that has made all the difference. |
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