I've struggled for a while whether or not to write about this-for a number of reasons. Partly because there is a huge risk for TMI, but mostly because it is such a deeply personal thing. I'm usually a pretty open person, but I wasn't 100% sure about sharing this for everyone to see...until I spoke with my good friend
Stephen and he reminded me the only way to unstigmatize things is by TALKING about them. He's right, and I'm going to talk* about this, dangit!
*I should note that these are my thoughts and experiences, and mine alone. Like most things in life everyone's path is different, and I can't make generalizations or speak for anyone else--just me.
It scares the CRAP out of me, but I have
always wanted to be a mom. Until recently it has always been this thing, far, far off in the distance; something I could see if I squinted hard enough. That horizon got a helluva lot closer really fast when Mr. Wonderful and I got married. Thanks to
Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) we knew we (read-I) would have an uphill battle in the effort to start a family, but we also wanted to take some time to settle into our new normal before we turned everything upside down again by adding a small human into the mix. 19 months later I realized we were standing on that horizon and we decided there was no time like the present to try to start our family. I consulted my OB about where we should start (aside from the obvious), and she suggested we begin trying immediately after stopping the Pill in the hopes we could "trick" my body into ovulating. (I had originally been put on the Pill when I started
Accutane and then when that was done my Dr kept me on it to treat my irregular cycle caused by PCOS-and then I opted to stay on it after I got married-we knew the odds of a surprise pregnancy were low-but just in case.)
Well,"tricking" my body didn't work, and so we have moved to other methods. Here we are, seven months later, and we aren't any closer to starting a family now than we were then. I've had plenty of time to feel sorry for myself, think, and overthink-on lots of things. Infertility sucks, guys.
-You would think seeing a negative result gets easier. It doesn't-not even a little bit.
-The only thing worse than getting your period when you're trying to have a baby is not having one at all and not being pregnant (it's a pretty good sign you aren't ovulating. No ovulation=no baby). I cried for two days when that first test (and the four others I took after that-just in case) came back negative.
-Knowing the cause of the problem but not the solution is discouraging and infuriating as hell. Treatment for PCOS is literally a "this is next on the list and worked for another PCOS patient I have; let's try this and see if it works for you, too" approach. When you are type-A and anxiety riddled you don't handle this approach well. I need a plan!
-Regardless of what anyone says not being able to do this has made me feel like a complete failure as a woman. This feeling is compounded when someone says they got pregnant without even trying/wanting to be.
-Uncertainty of whether I will be a mom or not in this life has caused me to constantly doubt myself. More than once I have caught myself wondering and asking Mr. Wonderful if I am enough and will be enough in the years ahead if kids aren't in the cards for us.
-Hormone treatments are just plain cruel. As if this situation doesn't suck enough, the meds I'm on have caused my cystic acne to return AND have made it super easy for me to gain weight, but almost impossible to lose it. I have never felt more disgusting or less attractive in my entire life. (Self-esteem? What's that?)
-I am so so happy for my friends getting pregnant and having babies, but not having a growing belly or baby to snuggle of my own makes my heart ache each time they share their joy and excitement. I want nothing more than to be happy for everyone, but I find myself cutting ties to people I care about because I just can't handle it any more. I know it isn't intentional, but each of their posts rubs more salt in this open, gaping wound.
-I am on a guilt and shame cycle I can't get out of. I feel shame for not being able to do this thing so many women seem to do without even trying, I find myself thinking "I had to wait to get married, and now I have to wait to have a family, too?" a lot more than I should, and then I feel guilty for being discouraged and feeling sorry for myself-especially when there are so many people out there who have things a whole lot worse or have been waiting longer than I ever will.
-No matter how strong your marriage is the stress of infertility takes its toll. (Mr Wonderful and I are great, but I'm not going to lie. It's been really, really hard.)
-Well-meaning people who say "don't worry; it will happen for you!" or suggest adoption, surrogacy, or other medical interventions are the most insensitive people and need to be punched in the face-Hard. From the outside all these methods seem easy, but they are anything but. Financially, physically, emotionally-they all come at a high cost and unless you are willing to write me a check or hold my hand while I'm jabbed and poked and prodded please don't suggest them. Suggesting them like you're deciding where to go for dinner? That's even worse.
-Same goes for those who say "stop worrying about it. It will happen when it's supposed to happen. Just have fun practicing!" Guess what? There is no such thing when you're struggling with infertility.
Nothing sucks the romance and fun out of sex like feeling like Jabba the Hut and then having to schedule and plan it around your treatments.
-Mr Wonderful is incredible and provides me with so much support, but he can't understand what I'm going through, and that is hard on both of us. He wants to support and protect me as much as I want to be supported and protected, but there is literally nothing he can do. Watching the person you love most on the planet be frustrated and upset because they feel like they're failing you (although they are not) compounds the problem.
-I am a textbook firstborn so I don't know how to let people take care of me (I'm still learning this with Husband). As a result I feel alone a lot of the time because I don't want to burden people with my silly problems.
-There's a lot of doubt. A LOT. I catch myself wondering all the time if my inability to get pregnant is the Universe's way of telling me maybe I'm not supposed to be a mom because I will absolutely suck at it and those children would be better off with someone else as their mother.
-My biological clock is very real and very loud and I wonder if I've run out of time almost daily.
-Staying positive, not letting the stress and pressure overcome me, and not allowing myself to become bitter is really, really hard. Lately this has become a losing battle.
-If motherhood isn't in my cards-is being the 'favorite auntie' enough?
Bottom line is this: there's a lot of guilt, a lot of feeling inadequate, and a lot of smiling on the outside while you're sobbing on the inside. This post may suggest otherwise but I don't want anyone's sympathy-really. Empathy? Yes. Support and understanding? Absolutely.
