...I don't have a punch-line, but lately it feels like I'm at the butt of a cruel joke. At this moment, between all my relatives, friends and coworkers, I figure I know at least six pregnant ladies (9 if you count Facebook friends). Now, of course, I am happy in different ways for each of them and downright ecstatic that this number includes another niece or nephew for me to spoil. But in the mean time, being the lone "infertile one" surrounded by all of this baby related excitement really does suck.
When we first considered that we might be struggling to conceive, it took a while to really understand what was happening and what it would mean. Of course, I was mildly disappointed each month when "Aunt Flo" arrived right on time, but I figured this was all part of our journey - that all the struggles would pay off, making our happy ending that much more gratifying. And when it finally did happen, that we would be all the more primed and ready for how becoming parents would inevitably change our lives. Looking back, I can see how naive I was but sometimes dreams have a poisonous power to make us a bit blind. So when we finally figured that we needed to get the advice of a fertility specialist, we had to quickly face a harsh reality as we learned the only way we would get pregnant was through invasive and expensive treatment, specifically in vitro fertilization. I wasn't prepared for how defeated that would make me feel. Nor was I prepared for how I could sink from defeat to depression after two attempts at in vitro failed.
I say depression although it wasn't medically diagnosed as such. But I felt it. I knew it, just as I knew my name. I was never going to have a biological child. I would never know what the genetic outcome of Matt and I would look like, sound like, or be like. All the times I'd day-dreamed about whether our child would have my unruly curls or Matt's perfect teeth... or whether they would play sports or love reading all just instantly died, taking a little part of me with it.During this time, I had friends and family who were pregnant and while I was glad for them, I was increasingly saddened every time the topic came up. I had to shop for shower gifts, and chat at family gatherings while pretending to be excited for someone else, all the while, I was hopeless and sad that it would never happen for us. On top of that grief, I felt tremendous guilt and self loathing that I wasn't able to just BE happy - that I had to put on an act that made me miserable. What I learned is that going through the process of IVF and failing was an honest to goodness emotional trauma that you don't just fake your way through. There is loss. There is grief and there is a lot of pain. Still, a year after coming to the reality that we were going to stop trying to conceive, it can hit me at any time and I can get lost at any of the stages of grieving process - denial, anger, bargaining, depression....even acceptance. I go through most of my days not thinking about it but there are definite triggers that can take be right back to any of these feelings. Baby showers. Birth announcements. Ultra-sound pics posted on Facebook. At any time during the day, I might be bombarded out of the blue and right now, it's coming at me from many angles.
I realize that there are a lot aspects of pregnancy that are uncomfortable and unappealing, but for me, I'd take any of that in a heartbeat if it meant I could have my husband's child. And I realize that someday, hopefully soon, we may still find a way to have a family through adoption, but in the mean time, I will still be suffering through every trip down the baby aisle and crying a little after every congratulatory post.
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