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.

The Pooped-out Princess (a.k.a. the Drained Diva)



This weekend was incredibly difficult.  I had three breakdowns during my friend's baby shower.  I would feel the tears starting to well-up in my eyes and I would make a hasty exit to the bathroom, where I would sob for a few minutes (hoping that no one was listening at the door), and then try to fix my make-up and put on a brave face to reenter the baby shower.  It wasn’t just the whole “baby shower” scene that got to me, it was all of the talk of pregnancy and newborns (there were three at the shower) and the constant questions about whether I had any children.  I had given my pregnant friend a ride to the shower and, given that she has gone through infertility, she could see what a mess I was two and-a-half hours into the shower, sandwiched in a seat between to newborn babies and their doting grandmothers.  She pushed me to leave and I can’t say that I put up much of a fight.  Even though I left a little early, I’m glad that I went to the shower.  I have an idea of what is going to trigger a crying fit now, and I know when I am reaching my limit of stress and sadness.  As for shower ideas to steal…I now know that I will never invite 40 people to my home for a baby shower and I will likely do gift-opening while everyone else is eating, so as to move things along.  There can be too much of a good thing...just ask my friend...her relatives stayed for 9 and-a-half hours before she finally shooed them away.

Surprisingly, my visit to the maternity ward to see our friend’s newborn, later in the day on Saturday, was easier to get through than the baby shower.  I held the baby for a long time, changed a dirty diaper and gabbed with the proud mommy and daddy.  Even as I sat in the hospital room, I wondered what was so different about holding my friend’s newborn and sitting next to the newborns at the shower?  Why did one feel good and the other send me into a tailspin.  I decided that the shower was more difficult because there was so much going on there that I couldn’t deep breathe my way through the whirlwind of emotions.  I couldn’t stay calm because I wasn’t in a calm environment…I was at a party.  When I’m not overwhelmed, I can make it through baby-time.  In the quiet I can find strength.  But organized chaos is not my friend.

I also had no difficulty at my friend’s house, on Sunday, tumbling around with her toddler twins.  I can’t say that I never got sad while playing with the little angel-faced babes.  Sometimes they would run into their mother’s arms, yelling “Mommy!”  And then they would smile as she scooped them up in a hug.  That was hard to watch without tearing-up.  I wasn’t jealous…it was more complicated than that.  It was like the intensity of the happiness they felt when they were in her arms radiated off them and onto me.  I was tearing-up because the intense happiness was so scary to me, and it felt so foreign to me, that it triggered immediate sadness and feelings of loss.  Luckily, those feelings would pass quickly…usually as soon as one child hit the other over-the-head with a block or whatever blunt instrument was available…as children do.

I had said going into the weekend that I would need to look at this weekend as a learning experience.  A chance to press up against my boundaries and see where they are at right now.  An opportunity to learn how to cope with my emotions in public.  In that sense, this weekend was a success.  But the lessons left me emotionally exhausted and I think I need to give myself a little bit of time before testing my own limits again.