Words of Wisdom

Yesterday was my baby shower.  Many times over the last couple of years, I feared I might never know the joy of that celebration.  But my friends and family gave me hope and the strength to continue trying.  And yesterday, they were there for me…to celebrate the success that they all played such a big role in.  There is a lot I want to say about the shower and, once I have some more pictures to post, I will probably devote an entire post to the shower.  But today, there is one thing that I received at the shower that I want to focus on.

I love getting words of advice and decided to make a “Wishes For Baby” card for the shower guests to fill out, to encourage my friends and family to share their wisdom.  My plan is to make the cards into a scrapbook for our baby to enjoy later in life.  Everyone was VERY generous at the shower, but I think my favorite gifts may have been the words of love people chose to share with my child.  Reading through the cards today, I couldn’t stop crying.  I am so blessed and our baby is so blessed to have such amazing people in our lives.  I can’t help but to share just a few of my favorite responses from the cards…

I hope you learn: 

  -the world is a good place.

  -to roll with the punches.

  -something new every day.

  -life is what you make it.

  -to never give up on what you want the most.

  -to be loving and kind.

  -to ask for help.

I hope you aren’t afraid:  

  -of trying new things.

  -to let your feelings show.

  -to be yourself.

  -of anything!     

I hope you love:  

  -yourself.

  -your wonderful family.

  -to learn.

  -with all your heart.

I hope you get:  

  -wonderful friendships.

  -lots of hugs.

  -all you work hard for.

  -everything you need in life and some of the things you want.

I hope you laugh:  

  -merrily and often.

  -at your dad’s jokes.

  -at your own mistakes.

  -every day.

I hope you never forget:  

  -how much your parents wanted you.

  -how special you are.

  -to say “I love you.”

  -how much you are loved.

I hope you ignore:  

  -mean/rude people.

  -faults in others.

  -your own insecurities.

  -setbacks.

I hope you become:  

  -happy and healthy.

  -anything you want to be.

  -a gentleman.

  -rich and famous, but most of all happy.

I hope you respect:  

  -your mom and dad.

  -your grandparents.

  -the environment.

  -yourself, always.

I hope you grow:  

  -strong and wise.

  -happy and healthy.

  -loving, like your mom and dad.

  -as tall as your dad and as beautiful as your mom.

My friends are the best!!!

Change

Things change.  I’m an adult.  I know that is just the way the world works.  And change can be good.  In fact, it is probably ultimately good more often than it is bad.  But I’m not generally good with change.  I have a tough time letting go of what is comfortable and familiar to me.  It is hard for me not to see “moving on” as “leaving something behind.”   Lately, I haven’t been left with much of a choice.  Change is happening whether I like it or not. 

This weekend, starting on Friday, was a weekend of change.   The news we received on Friday changed my “Positive Polly” perspective into confusion and sadness.  Then, on Friday night and Saturday, my relationship with my family changed drastically.  My mother (mentally ill), brother (16 with cognitive disabilities), sister (we’ve discussed her previously) and niece (five years old) came to my house, uninvited, to spend the night.  I had a nice dinner and pregnancy announcement planned, but (not surprisingly) things did not work out the way I’d hoped.  My mother’s vehicle broke down about an hour and a half from my house and it had to be towed to a service station.  My husband had to drive the hour and a half each way to pick my family up at the service station and bring them to my house.  My mother told my husband that she would just have to rent a car the next day.  She failed to mention that she had no money with her, no money in her bank account, and she does not have a credit card because she declared bankruptcy a few years ago.  So, when it was time for her to make arrangements to leave on Saturday, you can imagine my surprise when she asked me for my credit card while on the phone with the car rental agency.  I told her she couldn’t have it.  Without getting into too many of the details, I explained that she cannot have hundreds of dollars of our money because: (1) we don’t have it lying around for her to take as needed; (2) we now have a baby on the way and need to save for what is going to be a tight budget;  (3) she already “owes” me tens of thousands of dollars that I have written off because I know I will never be paid back; and (4) she isn’t entitled to our money just because I am related to her.  She yelled and screamed and then went to the other end of the house where my husband was.  I heard her tell him that I told her to ask him for his credit card!!!  I couldn’t believe it!!!  It was like dealing with a teenager who is addicted to drugs.  How could she lie like that, and think she wouldn’t be found out?  The Prince and I had already discussed that my family was not to be given any money this trip (The Prince is the one who finally made me realize I can’t keep funneling our money to them because I’m not helping their situation, I’m just enabling them).  In my not at all hormonal state, I screamed at my mother that there would be no more handouts.  She is on mental health disability and I understand she is too crazy to hold down a job, but she chooses to buy $80 mail order “real life baby dolls” and new furniture at 26% interest rates.  Those behaviors are in her control and I’m not paying for irresponsibility.  She told me that she’s glad I’m pregnant so I will get to experience what it feels like to be stabbed in the heart by my ungrateful child.  I didn’t expect my family to be as awesome about the pregnancy as The Prince’s family, but I didn’t expect it to get that bad, either. 

The Prince barely held his tongue.  I told him we were stuck because we couldn’t give her money but we also needed to get my family back on the road and heading the four hours it would take them to get back home.  I was cramping and sick and couldn’t take anymore stress.  (I should add that my sister was incredibly kind and tried to act as a buffer during this ordeal…but she isn’t really equipped to stand up to my mother, so she ended up as sad and stressed as I was).  We ended up calling The Prince’s parents and asked to borrow their extra vehicle for my mother to use until her checks clear next weekend.  My in-laws are the sweetest people ever, so they quickly agreed even though it is an inconvenience for them.  The Prince and I are scared that my mother will try to keep the vehicle, as she isn’t going to have money to get her car fixed and she has no credit card (a requirement for most rental car agencies).  She won’t speak to me on the phone…and won’t acknowledge my existence while on the phone with The Prince.   I know she’ll speak to me again when she needs money, but she crossed a line with her comments this weekend and our relationship will never be what it was before this weekend.   I’m saddened by that change, but I’m handling it better than I usually do.  I now have a good reason to distance myself from my mother’s craziness and distance is what I need right now. 

Also, after writing yesterday’s post about the comments made by my friend, I received a message from her that she was none too happy with my post and that our friendship was essentially going to be placed on hold, as I don’t appreciate her efforts to stay friends with me even though my pregnancy causes her some sadness.  I understand where she is coming from.  In hindsight, posting about the insensitive comments she made instead of addressing them with her directly was bad behavior on my part.  I think I was afraid of the confrontation that would ensue and so I took the passive (if you can call it that) approach.  But here is the thing…I’m not sorry that our friendship is changing.  I have a couple of friendships that I’ve made throughout my IF years that I really value but also realize that I have to really work at.  This friendship was one of those…I think we were both working really hard at staying friends.  A couple of my friends make comments that hurt my feelings on a regular basis, but I’ve been afraid to address the issue with them because I don’t want to lose them as friends, or I’m afraid that our friendship will change into something stiff and awkward.  But what I realized, reading my friend’s message yesterday, is that our friendship already had changed…I just wasn’t acknowledging it.  We are in such different places in our lives and our journeys, and we have been since even before I got pregnant, that we would be better served appreciating each other for what we are – two amazing strong women who have gone through IF hell - and not trying to make our relationship something that it just isn’t anymore.

So, in summation, there are some changes happening that, while uncomfortable, are healthy and ultimately positive.  You can try to swim upstream, or you can turn over, put your feet up and surrender to the current....it's going to keep flowing anyways.  It’s sad that, as usual, it has taken me so long to grasp a concept that is so basic…but at least I’ve got it now.  And while I am certainly not a “go-with-the-flow” kind of girl yet, I’ve got potential.

It's Official...

The blood test was a positive, and for that I am so thankful.  My level was 117, which is way above the 25 my clinic requires to consider it more than a chemical pregnancy.  It was also above the number they look for to indicate a healthy pregnancy – 50.  I feel good about my 117 and am looking forward to Monday (Yeah…I have to wait four days instead of two for my second blood test because my fertility center won’t test on weekends…not crazy about that extra two days of waiting), when I can have the reassurance that the number has doubled and things are going well. 

The nurse who called me with my results and the nurse who set-up my appointment for my second round of intralipids were both squealing and congratulating me over and over.  I felt a little guilty that I wasn’t more excited.  I don’t know if this anti-climactic feeling is because I was pretty sure that I would get a positive, given all the POAS, or if I am unwittingly returning to self-preservation mode.  I thought that I had overcome my doubts and fears.  I thought I would continue to be Positive Polly and would ride the Happy Train all the way through the pregnancy.  I thought wrong.  I feel like something is “off” right now, and I hate it.  I want to be jumping up and down and yelling and celebrating.  I would be happy to even feel some butterflies in my stomach over the good news.  But instead I’m just numb...and maybe sad.

I think that part of the problem is that I have been struggling with “survivor’s guilt.”  It sucks that I am pregnant and my fertility friends are not.  I’m not saying it sucks that I’m pregnant, nor are they saying that.  But it isn’t fair that they aren’t pregnant with me…and I can’t fix it.  So the guilt I’m feeling about this is making me second guess everything I have said in this blog.  Have I been too excited and too happy?  Am I that obnoxious person who is unintentionally rubbing my good fortune in the face of those who are less fortunate?  I think about conversations I have had with my friends, and I groan at some of the statements I’ve made.  For example, I’ve talked about my symptoms…the unpleasant ones…the ones that those struggling with infertility long for.  I’ve talked about them because I’m perplexed by them and it is all so new to me.  But what if it sounds like I’m complaining?  I have a tough time with former infertiles who complain about their pregnancy symptoms to people still on their journey to motherhood.  I think it is just something you don’t do…but what if I am…or sound like I am?  Or what if I am reminding those who have experienced losses of their pregnancies...and their pain?

I thought I would feel like my pregnancy was a victory for us all.  That I would be that inspirational character who struggled for three years and then got pregnant…the one that makes people not want to give up when they hit two years of trying to conceive…or three years of trying to conceive.  But I don’t think I am that person.  I’m just another friend who got pregnant…and I hate being that.  Then, I feel guilty for “hating being that” because I feel like I’m somehow not appreciating my pregnancy enough…and that is equally unacceptable.  I feel like I need to appreciate this pregnancy enough for everyone…like there is an obligation that I suck every drop of happiness out of this situation, or I am not worthy of the gift I’ve been given.  Basically, I feel guilty about feeling guilty.

I knew infertility would be an unwanted companion during this pregnancy.  I knew infertility wasn’t going to just leave me alone because I had gotten a positive HPT.  But I underestimated infertility’s resolve and power over me.  I’m fighting to not allow infertility to steal my joy this pregnancy…but today, of all days, I’m losing the battle.  This should be a happy post and I’m sorry to all of you that it is not.  Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

Yes...Another Obnoxious POAS Picture...



Day Four – It is Tuesday morning, and I still have a positive.  I’m almost done with this part of “The Experiment.”  I will POAS again tomorrow and then I will have my first beta test on Thursday morning.  I freaked out and contacted the nurse yesterday, to see if I should come in for the blood test a couple of days early.  I was most disappointed when her answer was, “No.  You’ve got to wait it out so we can compare your levels to everyone (insert “all of the sane people who can wait the full two weeks”) else’s levels.” 

I think that there needs to be an end point to my POAS.  I’m not doing it for fun anymore.  I’m not enjoying every time it comes up positive.  I’m doing it with shaking hands and a tight chest, irritated to be peeing on my hands at 3:00 a.m. and terrified that the line is going to disappear on me.  That was never what POAS was supposed to be about, and I refuse to let my pregnancy be dictated by fear.  I am determined not to lose out on this experience just because infertility has stolen my naivety and has made me aware of all that could go wrong.  I want my blissful ignorance back and if I can’t have it…I’m going to fake it.  I will still probably buy an “emergency” Clearblue Easy Digital kit…a “break open in case of emergency” kind of thing…for the mornings I wake up in a panic and only the comfort of seeing the words “Pregnant” will squelch the fear and let me fall back asleep.  But no more staring at and analyzing pink lines at 3:00 a.m. each morning.  After tomorrow, that part of this experiment… of this journey… is done.

In other news, I have the most amazing fertility friends EVER!  (I have the most amazing blog buddies, too…but that’s another whole post).  Since Mother’s Day, support has been pouring in from my “real life” fertility friends who read my blog.  Some of them are still in the midst of their struggles, some are pregnant, and some have “graduated” to motherhood.  All of them have been amazing.  No one has told me that they are happy for me but sad for themselves, even though I know that is how some must feel.  No one has yet asked that I give them some distance, even though I’ve been expecting for that request to come.  My biggest fear about getting pregnant, even bigger than losing the pregnancy, has been losing all of my friends.  I’ve been so blessed to have friends who are stronger than I am…friends who are putting a positive spin on my pregnancy, even though I haven’t always been able to do the same in the face of my friends’ announcements in the past.  I know that feelings will ebb and flow, and I will ride out every wave of emotions with each of my friends…giving space when needed and being there through the rest of their journeys whenever I am allowed.  But I just had to share that I am so happy that I haven’t been faced with the loss of friendships yet…and that I recognize and am grateful for my friends’ strength and support.

On a less fun note, a couple of weeks ago, before I was sure of the timing of this cycle, I had set up a dinner/support group for tonight with my other fertility friends.  The support group that is usually held on the second Tuesday of each month is being dedicated to making vision boards this month…and some of us already have a whole gallery of them.  So, we planned our own get-together…a non-vision board carb-fest if you will.  The timing ended up being terrible.  I have fretted the last two days over whether I should contact the people who are coming, to tell them about my positive HPT’s, even though I think it is too early to be “spreading the news.”  I don’t want them to find out through the grapevine later on, or worse…at dinner tonight… and feel like they were deceived.  On the other hand, most of my friends who are going tonight already know because they read my blog, and I’m glad they found out through the blog…because I’m really not ready to write “the email.”  So, for now, for better or worse, I am in a situation where most of the people at dinner tonight are going to know that I am a little bit pregnant, they know that not everyone at the dinner knows, and they know that it will be best if the status of my cycle does not become a topic of conversation at dinner.  I can honestly say, if asked, that I am waiting for my beta on Thursday.  It’s not a lie…just an omission…and an omission that I think a lot of people would make if they didn’t even have their first beta under their belt, yet.  But I am scared…scared that I’m going about this the wrong way and that the couple of people who do not know will feel hurt later on, if they find out that I knew but didn’t’ say anything to them.  What do you feel is the best way to handle this…keeping in mind that I am only about twelve hours out from the dinner, so I don’t have time to implement any change of plans that is too elaborate?  Thank you as always for your input.

The "Others"

It is rare in a fairy tale for the princess or prince to meet other princesses or princes.  It is rarer still for the “others” to help the principal character in the story to achieve the “happily ever after.”  Usually there is antagonism and sabotage involved in the relationship.  Not so in my fairy tale.  I have met so many other princesses (and even a prince or two) who are helping me along my journey by inspiring, teaching and supporting me.

Last night I had my infertility support group.  There were only three of us there…the smallest showing by far.  One woman is just starting her journey and is dealing with the initial emotions that go along with an infertility diagnosis.  The other woman was on day 12 of her two week wait, and started spotting during support group.  She had tried to do her first IVF, but was converted to another IUI due to lack of response by her ovaries.  Prior to that, she had dealt with a miscarriage.  She is relatively new to the world of infertility, but she is struggling as her positive attitude tries to slip from her grip with each disappointment.  Then there was me…swinging wildly from hopeful to depressed, depending on the topic of conversation.

Last night we discussed how to avoid “what if’ing,” which we all do on a regular basis.  

I distract myself with lists and spreadsheets and planning. 

The newer IF’er has started a “bucket list” of sorts, filled with things she wants to do but won’t be able to do with a baby.  When she is between cycles, she checks one or two things off the list.  Sky diving is her next endeavor.

The intermediate IF’er approaches negative thoughts by putting a positive spin on everything…she really is the embodiment of Positive Polly and I adore her for it.  When she had a miscarriage, she thought “the baby would have been sick, so it just had to happen to save the baby from pain.”  When her cycle seemed to be slipping away last night, she said that perhaps this wasn’t the right time for her…that the perfect child for her wanted to come into her life during her next cycle.

All of us last night had ideas and strategies for coping that helped the rest.  And we all shared in each others pain.  As I listened to the new IF’er choke back tears while she explained that she never dreamed she would be sitting in an infertility clinic, I remembered feeling those emotions three years ago…in shock…but believing that all we needed was a little help to get pregnant.  I try to remind her that “a little help” is all it takes for the majority of IF’ers, but there are just some of us who have a longer journey. 

And then there was the pain of Positive Polly.  She didn’t let a single tear fall during support group, even though you could tell that she wanted to bolt out of the door from the beginning and just go cry it out at home.  I am NOT a hugger…but I hugged her when she left…and cried for her.  I tried to tell her that progesterone can do funny things and maybe this isn’t what she thinks it is, but as she said “We know our bodies.  We know when it is a period.”  I am still praying she is wrong….

I’m excited by my cycle…excited at the prospect of being pregnant.  But something occurred to me last night.  I don’t want to stop supporting my IF friends.  I don’t want to stop sharing in their pain…or offering advice.  I know that many of them won’t be able to stay friends with me when I get pregnant.  I get it and accept that.  But I want to remain a part of their story.  I want to give back, and that will never change, no matter what the outcome of this cycle.

Learning to Say "No" When I Want To Say "Yes"

Fairy tales have a plot line.  No superfluous sub-plots or stories.  Everything is about the hero/heroine getting to the end of their journey quickly and linearly.  I’m trying to take a lesson from the fairy tales and streamline my life right now because I feel like my story is currently nothing but sub-plots.  I have friends having baby showers and babies and, while I am so happy that I have made it to a place where I’m not panicking about these things anymore and can look forward to the happy events, those events are still stressful, if only in a good but “busy” sort of way.  I have new infertility friends and old infertility friends that I am constantly writing to and saying, let’s make plans…but then I start to panic because I realize I am running out of time between doctor’s appointments, work, injections, acupuncture, etc.  I truly want to get together with everyone, but I keep making plans and sometimes I have to break those plans because I’ve made too many for my psyche to handle.  And the recent issues I was having with the pill (the health problems are improving, by the way) really cut into my schedule because for a couple of weeks it has been hard for me to do anything after work.

On top of all of this, I have the sub-plot of my sister-issues.  Thank you for all of the support on that front, by the way.  To update you on that, her husband got his notice that he is being deported in May because he did not finish one form that he needed to fill out.  Never mind that he has been given over a year by the immigration judge to get that form filled out.  Never mind that churches and family and friends have spent thousands of dollars trying to get him his green card.  He’s decided to walk away, knowing that he won’t be able to attempt to re-enter the country for 10 years (not that I’m exactly crying over that aspect of this situation).  To avoid being detained while he awaits deportation, he has opted to leave voluntarily before the deportation date.  He has bought a plane ticket for himself (and my nephew will fly for free) for April 15^th.  I spoke with my sister yesterday and she started to explain her reasons for sending my nephew away, insisting it is temporary and he will come back.  I told her that she has no custody order in a U.S. court so, even if the government of Belize would be inclined to honor a custody agreement, she will have no grounds at all for fighting to get my nephew back once he is gone.  Having fallen in love with my nephew on sight, I doubt that my sister’s husband’s family will be inclined to let my nephew go once they have been raising him for awhile.  I think it is more likely that, when my sister and my niece go to Belize this summer for a visit, no one will be coming back to America.  Given the urgency of the situation, the Prince and I visit my sister’s family next weekend (the 9^th and 10^th).  I told my sister that I do not want to talk about why we are there.  She knows how I feel about the decision she is making and I know her reasons for making the decision.  We are never going to agree on this, so why make things uncomfortable.  It is going to be so hard to say goodbye, but I’ve decided that it would be harder to regret not saying goodbye.  So there’s that going on.

Because I am now going away for that weekend in April, I have had to reschedule things I had planned for that weekend…moving them to the next weekend.  The problem is, that next weekend I am registered for (and have paid to attend) the annual MENSA Mind Games event…where toy companies submit prototypes of new games for MENSA members to play and judge.  You must play 30 games between Friday at 4:00 p.m. and Sunday at 9:00 a.m.  So, it is essentially a game marathon.  You aren’t expected to sleep.  I am also supposed to be attending a friend’s baby shower and marriage counseling that Saturday.  I have written to the Mind Games director and explained that I have a health issue that will make it next to impossible for me to fulfill my duties as a participant.  I will give my spot up for one of the people on the waiting list or someone who could not afford the registration fee, and will just volunteer as my “condition” allows.  Realistically…I’m not lying.  IF is a health condition, and how am I going to handle taking Lupron injections and estrogen pills, while playing games for 40 hours?  I know how I am on those meds…I’m liable to cry every time I lose a game…and cry every time I win a game.  Plus, I get so fatigued, I don’t think I can stay up for 40 hours straight.  I’m not even sure that it is a good idea to go to my friend’s baby shower, even if I can get out of Mind Games, because I foresee mental exhaustion and terrible hormone imbalances making me a mess that day.  Sprinkle in a little morning marriage counseling and it is really a recipe for disaster.

The medium/intuitive I saw on Wednesday night (I know…I have to get back to that at some point) said (as I was walking down the hall towards her) “Your mind is like a rolodex…stuff just spinning and flying all over.  You really need to slow it down.  Make some space.  Clear your social calendar and focus on making space for a baby.”  I’ve got to say, I feel like she’s right.  But it is so hard to say “no,” especially when there are so many things I want to do.  I keep crying today.  I don’t know if it is because of the Lupron/coming off the pill, because of exhaustion or because I am sending out all of my emails telling people I just can’t do things this month.  I wish I had some catchy April Fool’s themed post to offer today, but I don’t.  Even writing is taking a lot of effort today.



Lucky Me...

Lately, I have been trying to get onboard the gratitude train.  But I have to say…if one more person tells me how “lucky” I am to have the resources to go through fertility treatments, my head is going to explode.  I get it.  Not everyone can afford IUI’s, IVF’s or donor egg cycles.  I’m blessed to have insurance and savings to cover the treatments.  But I really have to disagree about being “lucky.”

Recently, someone told me that I am lucky that I am dealing with infertility now, as the technology today offers more options for family building.  I also was told that I should feel lucky beacuse there are lots of women who want a baby but don’t have the resources to even try assisted cycles.  The person who recently said this to me is just one of many people (including infertility friends) to tell me why I am so “lucky.”  I’ve had it with the insensitive statements and I've had it with keeping my mouth shut about it.  Maybe the people making these statements didn't mean any harm, but that's kind of irrelevant when it feels like I got punched in the gut whenever I hear the words "You're so lucky."  So here is my rant about why no woman dealing with infertility should be told that she is lucky.

First, no one would ever say to someone diagnosed with cancer that they are lucky that they have chemotherapy and radiation therapy available now, because it wasn’t available in the past.  I’ve watched people go through the side effects of cancer treatments and the emotional pain and fear that goes along with a cancer diagnosis.  There is nothing “lucky” about any of it.  Maybe those with cancer today have better odds of survival now than they would have had in the past.  But they are not lucky and I don’t think anyone would dare tell them that they are.  Likewise, I am not “lucky” to have infertility treatments available to me that weren’t available in the past.  I still have infertility.  I still may never have a child.  The treatments available may give me better odds of having a child, but those treatments also include horrid side effects to medications that I have to inject into myself multiple times per day, every day, for a month at a time, or more.  I am glad that infertility treatments have come a long way, but I don’t think it is fair to say I am lucky to have infertility now, as opposed to infertility in the past.  I’m pretty sure that infertility is equally sucky, no matter when you have it.

Second, I know how blessed I am to be able to pursue ART options, especially the very expensive endeavor of using donor eggs.  I appreciate that there are women who haven’t had the opportunity to pursue ART because of financial considerations, and I think it is deplorable that there isn’t a system in place to make sure that infertility treatment is available to anyone who needs it.  However, again I would argue that I am not lucky to be able to pursue ART.  I would never say to someone who had a miscarriage: “You are lucky.  At least you got a positive pregnancy test.”  I wouldn’t say that because I am acutely aware of the pain that a miscarriage brings, especially for someone who desperately wants to be a mother, and I am aware that the only thing scarier to me than not getting pregnant is getting pregnant and then experiencing a loss of the pregnancy.  And yet, it seems to be perfectly acceptable for people to say to me “You are lucky.  At least you got to try 12 cycles of ART.”  Nevermind that they didn't work.  At least I got to try, right?  Yeah, I’m so lucky that I got to go through three years of side effects and have had more people looking at my nether regions than most strippers.  I’m so lucky that I got to go through three years of being sure that science’s involvement in my baby-making process would mean that I was going to get pregnant…only to find out that even science can’t seem to fix my broken plumbing.  I’m so damn lucky I can’t stand it.

I know I sound like a brat right now (and brat probably isn’t the word a lot of you are thinking of).  Really, I am not as ungrateful as I sound…or maybe I am.  I’m not sure, because I’m so angry.  But, on this day before St. Patrick’s Day, I have to say that I am not feeling particularly “lucky” and I would be much obliged if people would recognize that my pain isn’t lessened by having undergone 6 IUI’s and 6 IVF’s.  I still don’t have a baby in my belly or my arms, just like the women who need, but don’t have the resources, to go through ART.  I’ve suffered enough pain to deserve some validation that my situation isn’t lucky.  It sucks...because infertility sucks...no matter what the circumstances.



Positive Polly Doesn't Live Here Anymore



Last night, I went to the support group (hereinafter “group”) held at my infertility center for the first time since November.  I have been on a hiatus because I had already befriended most of the group members during the last two years, and I had watched as, one-by-one, they graduated out of the group when the stork visited each of their houses.  I just didn’t feel like I could handle watching another “class” of IF gals move on in their journey, while I sat watching from the support group sofa.

But, for whatever reason, I decided to try going to group again…last night.  I’m glad I went.  It was nice to be in a supportive environment.  However, everyone at the group was new, except for my one friend (left behind from the second round of group’ers that got pregnant…we’ll call her “Patience”).  Patience has had four miscarriages in a row and, somehow, she is still standing and still getting her butt to group each month.  Patience deemed us the “senior members,” at the beginning of the meeting.  We were the only two veteran IF gals.  I think the title made me feel a little conflicted.  You never want to be the “senior member” in an IF group.  You want to be a “graduate.”  But, there is also a weird sense of respect that goes along with “senior membership” status.  You almost wear it as a badge of honor…something to prove how much you have survived…a testament to your strength and resiliency. 

Newbies looked to Patience and I for guidance last night, and our words carried a lot of weight, so we had to choose our words carefully.  I really censored a lot of what I said and what I shared because I was trying not to be too negative, given the crowd.  There were so many women there who had only just received their infertility diagnosis, or had just survived their first miscarriage.  They were all so hopeful that this was going to be a very short journey for them.  They all truly believe that they will get pregnant this month (or their next cycle) and will leave all of this sadness behind them.  And some of them will be right…their journeys will be short…but most of them will be wrong.  They don’t yet realize that they are in a marathon, not a sprint.  How do you tell someone to prepare themselves for the worst without quashing their hope?  As the group went on, you could see that a couple of women, frequently the ones who had suffered losses, exhibited signs of cracks in the hard exterior of hopefulness they’ve cloaked themselves in to get through the awfulness.  I didn’t want to be responsible for making those cracks deeper…but I also don’t want to mislead anyone.  Patience and I worked had to be realistic, discussing ways to prepare emotionally for the possibility that the journey may take longer than anticipated.  But we also tried to remind them that a lot of women had graduated from the group and a lot of women just need a little help to get pregnant.  There is a reason there are only a couple of senior members.  We are an anomaly.

As I watched the effect that our words had on the newbies, I was saddened.  I heard the contrast between my outlook and theirs.  They are all a “Postive Polly,” certain that sunshine and rainbows and lots of babies are right around the corner…waiting for them to round the bend and trip into their “happily ever after.”  I’ve become a “Negative Nelly.”  I don’t believe there are rainbows and sunshine around the corner.  In fact, when I get to a corner, I peek around it to make sure I’m not walking into a wall of heartache and emotional devastation.  I’m not excitedly running to see what comes next.  I’m standing back and wondering if it is even worth taking another step.  This journey has been too long, already.  Please let it be over soon…so I can go back to being Polly.