Love should end with Hope. Hope is what guides us. It gets us through the day and especially the night - Knights Tale
Warning: My dear happy lovely readers this is just another long sad sordid post about wanting to be fertile and a few revealing and hopefully inspiring links for those traveling down this same journey. If you aren't in the mood or don't have the time just wait until the next post cause this may be a little lengthy. Sometimes the Infertility Monster likes to rear it's ugly head and remind me it won't be forgotten!
I had quite a discussion with MrD recently . I brought up a taboo topic or rather one we had shelved momentarily when we left the USA. And by momentarily I should clarify as Forever Shelved by hIm and Things That We Bring Back Up Eventually by mE. As life tends to do some topics will come up in a cyclical fashion like say on blue moons, every other holidays, the thirteenth Thursday of every month and hypothetically the only Sunday we have had off together in about 6 weeks. [Insert deep sigh here.]
The Subject: Babies aka Pregnancy aka Me Pregnant.
Is there really any other topic for the Married Without Kids Couples That Seek To Have Them? Or any topic that should be drug out of a closet and beat senseless with a wet noodle besides that in which that almost destroyed by marriage? I think not!
I didn't bring the topic up to make him want to pull out his hair … or wreck the car. I brought it up because recently I tripped backwards over a pole and got blindsided with it. [Read: the little bastards Remorse and Regret forced me into a vicious game of Duck Duck Slap and won't let me be about my business.] In my thought process it made sense: Vicious Pity Me Thoughts regarding an Us Item came up, so Let.Him.Know. (Part of my former infertility depression problems came from me burying these types of items and not being honest with him.)
Wow, sometimes the simplest trains of thoughts can derail in a blink of an eye. I broached the topic mid traffic circle or rather I took the long and convoluted route to get to the core of the It Sucks state of mind I was in. I tend to forget that with me life is like spaghetti. I can see the connection between the hordes of impregnated females seeming to stalk my every move on base with my deep seated desire to be pregnant once. For some reason 95% of the time I am blessed with blindness to their selfish selfless boasting breathing but that other 5% of the time they can not only find the limelight but continually plant their abundantly blessed asses smack dab in the middle of it no matter where I turn. The helpless Jealousy just burrows under my skin like a bulbous blood sucking tick leech that come fire, salt and boric acid ain't budging. Sometimes the busyness of the neverstopping work or hyperactive sinus allergies or online gaming or time difference with the states just isn't enough of a distraction.
I don't hate them … I can't even despise them. I crochet them booties and blankets and give them well wishes as I guess their due dates and fuss with the deliciously chewy fresh infant necks, toes and fingers. The oblivious moms smile and laugh and share that cute little anecdotal stories completely ignorant to the fact that they could be conversing with a barren womb who could most likely NEVER fully experience the joys and losses and pregnancy pains they live through. The seemingly most common occurrence for most woman, by accident or planning, can be the most heart wrenching angst of others. And, on occasion, I crawl into my car at the end of day and just want to chain smoke a carton of Camel menthols … and I don't smoke.
I know it all. I've heard it all. As those of you in my shoes can attest sometimes it's not about the 'in God's times' or 'have you tried adopting' or all the other little noncommittal gestures people can come up with while all you're wanting is to be close enough to another in your shoes that you can share a martini in the adults lounge and vent and bitch about That topic together. You can speed chat and compare horror stories of how your spouse responds to the whole process. The ostrich mentality … the racial ignorance [their men lacking ovaries and hormones] … the tangled web of communication between the feelings of utter helplessness and how the infertile state of mine can very well compare to the incurable disease state of mind. They think: but you really ARE healthy. Ours: Not in This way!
I discussed a new angle to our story when I was talking to MrD. Trying to get pregnant is like giving birth. The hope that maybe new treatments could work erases a lot of the memories of the pain of trying before. Kind of like how mom's will tell you the 3 weeks of intense vaginal-wall-tearing labor was totally worth the cost to birth their 9.8lb baby boy. When you hold him in your hands you forget the pain. Two years after we stopped taking the pill my mind kind of blurs the focus on all the marital discourse to focus on that last gem from the doctor: a few rounds of 150Clomid might work [also might not.] If we tried AGAIN since now we understand the OPK [ovulation predictor kits] maybe a few rounds could work. Regardless of the fact it's less than a 50/50 chance with my very irregularly charted ovulation cycle. Regardless of the fact that we went through two years of ignorant fertility testings. Regardless of the fact it made me borderline physically violent and a little psycho. Regardless of the fact it brought up a complete noncommunication barrier that turned me into a complete and utter wreck. Regardless of the fact the stress almost completely obliterated our 8 year marriage. Regardless of the fact it almost cost me my best friend. Regardless of the fact it can't be worth the cost.
You have to understand I more than likely won't be going back on meds any time soon. But sometimes when you look in the mirror and all you see is Lose staring you in the face your brain instantly reaches into the What If bag of merry tricks and tries to remind you: Does the End justify the Means? It all depends what the means will do in the middle. And sometimes … as I've mentioned a million times before I just want to become a mom through natural means just once … ONCE … before we adopt. And I wish adopting from Germany, as a military spouse, wasn't so complicated.
So C'est la vie friends. Thus is life.
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P.S. New blog read! Looking for a nifty photo to [INSERT HERE] when I into a new infertility blog to paw through. Stephanie [@StephanieBaffone.com] has this brilliant advice that I know Queenie, Grok and Angel can readily agree about ...
Suggestions
For the loved ones of those battling infertility, here are some tips on what to avoid and a suggestion of how you can be sensitive.
• Avoid the temptation to say, “Just relax!”
o This implies blame. Trust me, we are good at blame all on our own.
• Avoid asking “Why don’t you just adopt?”
o Adoption is a gift beyond measure for those who feel called to it, but it is not a panacea for the desire to conceive, birth and raise a biological child.
• Understand when we pass on baby showers, birthday parties and christenings
o Sometimes we need time to lick our wounds.
* Full post titled "How To Help Loved Ones Dealing with Infertility".
*Also another point to ponder by author Pamela, "Would You Tell Someone You Are Infertile?"
Infertility has been called the “silent disorder,” and remains something of an ugly stepchild among diseases -- a curiosity considering the large numbers of couples affected: 50 to 80 million worldwide according to the World Health Organization, and in the United States, one in eight couples of child-bearing age.
p.p.s. I always wanted to be afflicted with the ugly stephchild among diseases! Normalcy is utterly boring and lacks any creative genius.
p.p.p.s. Alfie and some of the BFF's ... you know what doesn't apply to you because you already knew all the right stuff.
