Monday, August 22, 2011

The irony of it

So, today was yet another reminder that I will always be an "infertile." I had an appointment with my naturopathic doctor today to talk to her about my joint pain. I have had joint pain in my fingers, toes and knees since March. My knees actually feel better, but my fingers are a MESS. Particularly my right thumb. I am shocked every day by the number of things you do with your thumb that you can take for granted!! Anyway, my doctor referred me for some bloodwork and an xray. So I am sitting in a chair at the imaging place with my hand on a black base under the xray machine and the technician leaves the room to take the picture (or so I thought). She then comes back and carefully asks if I have had a hysterectomy. I tell her no, that I had a baby. Then she asks me if there is any possibility that I could be pregnant and I have a quick chuckle. Seriously?? Anyone else would not have thought much of it, but I wanted to say, "Lady, you have no idea- it took us SEVEN YEARS to have a baby, please go ahead with the xray since I have driven all the way here in the 113 degree heat. There is no way I could be pregnant." But, to my dismay, I was told that I would need proof (a blood test) before they would do the xray. Now, I totally understand the theory behind this, but really??! What infertile person enjoys having a pregnancy test done, much less one that they know for a fact will come back as a BFN!? I had a momentary panic attack at the thought after having soooo many BFNs, but my thumb hurts enough that I will just do it and get it over with.

I think if I were still in the thick of infertility, I would have fallen completely apart right then and there. Every day I read blogs of those who are still in the thick of it all and many times tears will start to sting my eyes. I came across a blog today that may as well have been written by me. The girl writing it described the experience of infertility soooooo well. I had all of the same thoughts as her at various points along my journey, but could never have articulated each of those thoughts as well as she did. I don't know which blog it was because the internet connection on my phone stopped working and I lost it. I will be searching it out, though.

I had always thought (hoped) that once I became pregnant or had a child that infertility would magically disappear and I would never get on that ride again. Well, I was mistaken. While I have been fortunate to get off the rollercoaster, I will always live in the park. I would call it an amusement park, but I am not sure that "amusement" is really the right word. Either way, I will forever spend my days walking around the park observing the reactions of those in line for the ride, hearing the screams of those still on it and waiting for others to get off. I don't want to leave my sisters in the park alone, but I don't think I will ever really "fit in" outside of the park. And that is okay. I think that we need to support each other at whatever stage we are in. I know that watching someone else get off the ride is a time of mixed emotion. Part of you is insanely jealous because that person has gotten what you wanted so badly and may or may not seem to have worked as hard as you did, but part of you is happy that one of your infertile sisters reached her goal. It is a tricky place to be emotionally. It is exhausting and schizophrenic. I know that some people who have read this blog (I see that 186 people actually have even though I am not really cool enough to have followers!) may not want to read any further because it is not always exciting to hear about the happy ending and I totally understand. Maybe my earliest posts will be helpful, though.

If you read back in my blog to the point where I was feeling more "comfortable" on the ride (Feb/Mar/April 2010), you can see that I had hope that things would be ok whether or not I had a baby. I NEVER would have thought that was possible if I had not experienced it myself. I was feeling stronger and thought that I would be ok no matter what happened. (Not that I would not always have had a hole in my heart for the child/children I never had). I had no idea what the future would hold at the point.

Not a day goes by that I don't think about my infertility and acknowledge how fortunate I am to be walking around the park and not on the ride. I wish I had known that all of the feelings I was having on the ride, no matter how bitter they seemed, were normal and okay. Really, nobody should tell ANYONE else how to feel. You feel how you feel and that is okay. I am thinking of all of you out there who are still on the ride and I am hoping that some of what I have been through could help even one of you. Please read my post about saving $15,000 from earlier this month as it gives a few last ditch ideas if you have already tried everything. Words cannot express the sadness I feel when I read of another failed ivf or disheartening diagnosis. I want to give people hope, especially since I was always told I had bad eggs and would never have a baby without medical intervention. I don't consider my child a bad egg. Eventually I will post a birth story, but I am still not quite ready yet. The after-effects of infertility suck (certainly not as bad as infertility sucks). I don't want to complain, but I also don't want anyone to think they get to leave the park...

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Looking back...

I find myself looking back on the past seven years lately and having a hard time believing that I actually went through all that I did. If someone told me I would have to endure that all over again, I honestly don't think I could bear it. I went back to my old job last week and was amazed at my ability to focus on my work without being distracted with thoughts of infertility for more than 7 seconds at a time. I couldn't believe how productive I was even though I get far less sleep nowadays. I knew that infertility had taken its toll, but I keep seeing new ways in which it did that.

I am so sad for the time lost. I apologize to anyone and everyone who met me during that time. I must have come off as such a bitter, angry person. I actually WAS a bitter, angry person, but just under the surface was a sadness that ran so deep it threatened my very existence. There is still sadness that comes with losing my babies, but it doesn't run with the level of anxiety that it used to. There is still some anxiety (well, more than 'some' anxiety) that comes with the thought of getting back onto a rollercoaster ride that I spent years trying to get off, but I am not ready to stand in line for a ticket for that ride quite yet. I want to bask in the stillness for just a bit longer.

I frequently find myself waking just before I fall asleep to thoughts of the other shoe dropping and squashing the life right out of me. Before getting off the rollercoaster, but toward the end of my journey, I felt a sense of being able to survive anything. Now that I am on "the other side" I feel a strange sense of guilt for being so lucky even though I endured more than many. My heart aches for those who have endured so much more. I sometimes feel like I didnt really "survive" infertility per se, I just had the good fortune of getting off the rollercoaster. I sometimes feel that it is those who did not get the original happy ending who are the true survivors. Having to carve out a new life different from the one they planned. Sometimes I feel like the little kid who whined soooo much that she finally got her way. Deep down I know that I earned my happy ending, but what about those who have worked harder, but didn't get what they wanted?

It makes me sad that infertility is such a mind fuck.

Now I am just rambling. I just wanted to get those thoughts out before I lay me down to sleep...