Friday, December 12, 2014

Hi, I'm Infertile

Living with infertility is not something I planned on as a child. I knew life would occasionally be less than perfect, but I only ever thought I'd end up with really bad bouts of strep throat or pink eye (my worst enemies in those younger years).

It's not all bad. I mean, there are times when everything is wonderful. In these moments, I have all the hope in the world that everything will work out perfectly and soon I'll have new, simpler worries to deal with.

There are other moments when that vision crashes on my head as if to say, "Don't plan on it."


You'd think that these moods would be kind enough to stick around for a while, and occasionally they do, but usually I swing between them several times in a day.

I worry because infertility is not something you just bring up in a casual conversation.

Hey, I know you said something cool just now but I was distracted thinking about how my body can't make babies on its own.

I worry because I want to tell my story, but some people only know how to respond with "helpful hints" for getting pregnant.

Could you stop suggesting that diet/method/vitamin now? I read about it three years ago and trust me, it will not fix me.

I can't help but worry when I'm talking to strangers that they'll see how hollow I am or, even worse, they won't see that I'm hollow at all.

Hi, my husband has a pretty low sperm count. Did you know that?

It's the monkey on my back. I hear a sad song, and I want it to be singing about me and my infertility, telling my story because no one else will.

I'd totally go to that rad event tonight, but I'm actually saving money for a thirteen thousand dollar procedure that might not work.

The only stories I hear told publicly are miracle stories. Infertile couples who, after years and years of pain and trying and doctors visits and adoption agencies and money, have finally achieved parenthood.

I kind of hate you right now for asking how I'm doing, because if I were honest with you, you wouldn't know what to say back to me.

I read a happy story, and I almost shout at my computer screen to keep its damn happiness to its damn self for a few days.

Wow, your baby is really cute. Could you get it out of my sight for a few minutes while I work up the courage to look at it without crying?

These are the thoughts that pass through my head while you're talking to me.This is what my life is like.

Oh, hello there, person who is a complete stranger. Could you not ask me when I'll have kids? I may punch you in the face.

My two options are 1. give up and move on with a different life than the one I have wanted since I figured out I'd grow up one day, or 2. keep trying. Trying sucks. Infertility sucks. Living this way is the worst. But I can't imagine a world in which I take option 1. I can't move on. I won't. And that's just how it's going to be.

If a single person comments on this post that I just need to do x, y, or z to get pregnant, I'm pretty sure the angry vein in my forehead will burst.

7 comments:

  1. I love your honesty, I love you telling your story, and even if I don't know what to say, I can listen, and sit with you, and be a witness as you tell your story. It's not much. It's not nearly enough. It may not help at all. But I'll sit by you and listen anyway, and continue to love your voice, and the story you need, want, can't not tell.

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  2. Lots of love to you babe. Though I can't understand (and I'm sorry for that, because I'd love to support you in that way), I recognise this anger and sadness and the encroaching despair, having experienced a measure of it in other ways and I love your honesty and desire to educate. There is everything right with raising your voice and saying "I hope you know, we're having a hard time." Xxx

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  3. Thanks for blogging about this, Brooke. I'm really sorry you're having to go through it, though. And I'm sorry so many of the rest of us only make it more difficult.

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  4. "The only stories I hear told publicly are miracle stories."

    Clomed had no effect whatsoever on us, nearly seven years ago. And we have nothing medical we can point to as explanations for our continued lack after 15 years of marriage. No miracle stories here.

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  5. Very brave post. I worked with infertile couples for 6 years and although I'll never know personally how you feel, I hear you, I see you, and your pain is valid.

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  6. I prefer hearing the truth. If we ever meet in real life, please tell me exactly what you're thinking and feeling.

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  7. Thanks for sharing this post and joining the link up! I always think about the two choices too. I am not willing to give up though because I know what I will miss out on!

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