Posts Tagged ‘Sadness’

Is this fair? Empathy and Prayers *BrokenBrownBellePost*

So, I was in prayer for our sisters in Japan when the FedFX guy interrupted by banging on my office door.  I knew it was him, I was expecting him. But I had forgotten that I was expecting him. He was there to give me a rush delivery of Repronex injections.  By the time I got to the door I was loaded with guilt and sadness, because of the prayers that I’d just finished. (more…)

Transparent

I’m in an awkward, awkward state of affairs at the moment.

While most bloggers and writers suffer from writer’s block and the feeling of having “nothing to say”, I’m feeling quite the opposite, but with similar results.  Not only do I have things to say, but I have too many things to say.  There are tons of tales and stories of the epic battle between my feelings and my progress, as well as a few scandalous rants that I just want to unleash.  Yet, I spend the wee hours of the morning writing to you about what I want to write, rather than just writing it.  Odd, huh?

You're Still Talking?

It is often hard for me to find clarity when my thoughts overlap and interfere with each other, and I’d rather not subject you to that.  Truthfully, I’m becoming a bit unnerved by the amount of things that I’m subjecting mySELF to. LOL  The transparency for which this blog has gained its momentum is not as easy a feat to uphold as some may think.  It is dreadfully hard for me to decide what to share boldly, and what to let fester in the corners of my mind for fear that I’ll run you guys all away.

For instance, (more…)

The Blessed Irony of Birthdays

So, my birthday is Friday.

I don’t know whether I’m excited or just tired.  As I go toward it, there are so many different areas that are mentally dealt with.  My birthday has always had a love/hate thing with me.  I’m always super excited to get to it, but then ultra-subdued when it comes.

There have been some awful birthdays, which led me to trying to make sure each one is special and important.  When I say awful, I mean awful.  LOL  To name a few:  I’ve been, caught in a lighting storm, had my purse stolen, gotten in TWO car accidents, and then to put the cherry on top, my grandmother died on my fourteenth.   So, birthdays haven’t always been the coolest things.  Eventually, I decided that I would try and make each one special and important, no matter what I had to do.

I’ve been successful for the most part, throwing parties for myself, and loudly proclaiming Librafest from the rooftops as soon as the season begins.  Though, where infertility is concerned, birthdays mean something different. Something far less festive.  To be blunt, they are the embodiments of those biological clocks everyone is always talking about.

It’s funny to think of all the milestone birthdays we have as we grow up.  Our first birthday is the one where our parents celebrate us being alive.  The fifth birthday symbolizes one level of maturity as we reach “learning” age and kindergarten.  The thirteenth birthday makes us a teen, and in some cultures, an adult.  The sixteenth is sweet.  The eighteenth makes us legal to smoke but not drink.  The twenty-first gets us into the club. The twenty-fifth lowers our car insurance.  And after that, you’re pretty much on a decade by decade shelf-life.

But in the child-bearing game,  you’re already falling behind if you haven’t procreated by the thirtieth.  At least if feels that way.

I feel like I’m behind.  And I only have one year to catch up.  To be a person who “had kids in their twenties”…I only have about 400 days. YES,… I said DAYS.

I try not to think this way.  I really do.  But to be honest, I’ve been thinking this way for about four years.  I gauge my quality of parenthood on how old I’m getting.  My mother had me when she was twenty-one and married.  I’m twenty-eight, (for a few more days), so I’m already seven years behind.  There is already seven years worth of energy and interest that I’ve lost.  Seven years worth of time, gone.

And I can’t shake that thought.

The thought that if I’m not successful by this time next year, I will automatically be no less than thirty years older than my children.  No matter what I do, or how I attain my family, I will already feel behind the curve.  And I know it sounds silly, and ridiculous, but I look at my mother who is pretty young in my opinion, to have an almost-30-year-old, and I look at my sister who will always be just a decade and a half older than her daughter…and I feel late. I am perpetually tardy for the family-building party.  As a 23 year-old bride, I have to say, I thought if anything, I would have been on schedule or a bit earlier than,…but then life threw me a curve ball.

Ah.  But I’m thinking too much, no?  Still, you know what’s funny?  Funny strange, not funny ha-ha.  The fact that somewhere, someone else is feeling the exact same way.

Every single birthday once you start “trying”, makes you think of birth days.  Every year that passes feels like the culmination of 12 failures.  The one present you may want the most, is one that nobody can pick you up at Target.

Still, in my usual Libra form, I have to look at things from the other side.

On that side, I’m so grateful to have almost 30 years of thinking and learning to be prepared for whatever fate brings my way.  I’m grateful that in other areas of my life, things are blossoming, and for those reasons, I’m perhaps more advanced than my counterparts.

And at the very, very end of the day, I have to take heed to the fact that the truth of the matter is…no matter how I feel,…I’m really not that old.

Who I am and Who Infertility has Tried to Make Me

Infertility Today…and Every Day

The most important thing for infertility right now, is putting a face on it.  Which ipso-facto,   makes advocacy the most important thing for infertility right now.  However, as I’m sure you will learn as you step out of the gate, importance does nothing to diminish difficulty.
I’ve struggled with churning out a couple of blog posts this week.  Primarily because I’m fighting from two sides of this coin.  The advocate in me wishes to press thrrough it all and keep fighting for others to “get it”.  I want for people to keep having those “Oh…I didn’t…I didn’t know,” moments because they change the world.  Those moments create the change we need in this community.

But the hardest thing about advocacy is knowing that underneath all of your fighting and pushing for others…you still have your own heart to contend with.  It still yearns for you to pay attention to it, and create change internally.  Your own desires can get increasingly jealous of the attention you are giving to the rest of the world.  I fight with that.

So what do I do?

I try to remind myself that the bigger issue is more important than my personal battle, and on the days where it just isn’t, I take a break.
I am in a constant fight with who I am, and who this condition has tried to make me.

I believe myself to be capable of anything, yet this one thing has proven to be something I can’t do.

I am powerful and bold, and smart.
This thing, however, this STUPID thing has tried to make me feel less than so.

I am beautiful…I’m sure of it.

Yet this thing makes me feel unattractive and unnecessary.

And I can’t seem to shake that sometimes.

Infertility has robbed me of my ability to plan my life.  It has taken away my right to decide when and how I’d like to start my family.  It has stolen years from me, and caused me to lose track of my goals and the order in which I wanted them completed.  It has taken away my right to feel “normal”.  My modesty, dignity, privacy…all stolen.  And no matter how much I rationalize it and remind myself that I’m being proactive rather than speculated…it still feels like I’ve been robbed.

Who do you call when your dignity is stolen?  Where do you report missing You-ness?

There are so many parts of this fight that have nothing to do with babies at all.  This is why I find it astounding that there aren’t more people ready to rally around the fact that infertility is an emotional and psychological issue as well as a physical one.  There are so many thoughts and ideas that seem to care less about my everyday life.  In many ways, infertility in the body leads to a feeling of impotence in other areas.  There are some days where giving birth to a complete sentence is more draining than I remembered.  Days where I can barely keep my thoughts in order, let alone cycles.  And those days lead to doubt.
I doubt that I’m intelligent enough to understand these terms and medical phrases that are a part of life now.
I doubt that I have the willpower to embark on food and fitness choices that will help.
I doubt that any of this is doing more than opening myself up to more wounds and opportunities for words to attack me.
I doubt I have the ability to be anyone’s friend, not to mention, wife or mother.

Remaining steadfast when all you want to do is crawl inside yourself and wilt, is the underbelly to this entire beast.   These plagues of inadequacies and trips into our own minds are to be expected.   These feelings are common, I’m learning.  But I promise not to give in to them,…if you won’t.

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Infertility Prejudice

From The Broken Brown Egg

Picture it, Sicily, 2010,

Ann, 26, has been trying to get pregnant for a year. Her husband assures her that it is okay, and that they will go for fertility workups after another six.  He doesn’t quite get what she’s so worried about since his mom had him at 33 with no problem and believes they have plenty of time to grow their family.  Ann isn’t so sure and feels upset that he is blowing off her fears.  Though she’s the only person in her group of friends that is married, she’s also the only one without any children.

Felicia, 37 has had it up to here with the infertility journey.  She and her partner, Brianna, 40, have had two miscarriages and rounds of IVF between them, and are now taking a break even-though they know that at their age, the idea of waiting could seriously cancel their hopes for a baby of their own.

Lisa and her husband Terrence have been married for five years.  After two years of trying, Terrence finally let go of his pride and gave in to Lisa’s pleading that he go in for a workup.   As Terrence feared, the problem is with him and he’s been diagnosed with azoospermia(no sperm).  Though they want a biological child, they are now forced to think about what other options there are.  Lisa considers donor sperm, which Terrence emphatically refuses to allow.

Chris, 30, has never been married.  What she has been, is suffering from long, painful, heavy periods.  All through high-school and even younger, her mother told her things like “that’s why they call it the curse”, and other little jokes, but never treated the situation seriously.  Doctors usually just gave her birth control pills to control the bleeding without much more diagnosis.  Chris has been dating Shaun for two years and they are seriously considering marriage.  To stop taking her pills though, could bring back her period, so she doesn’t know if she wants to do that.  Also, now she’s reading up and discovering that those heavy periods could have been much more serious than she thought.  She’s already thirty, five years from “advanced maternal age”, and now she feels like someone should have told her sooner that there could be something wrong.

Every single scenario I’ve created above can be traced to a real situation I’ve heard from a real person. Some of the things are jumbled around, but make no doubt, these are REAL issues people are facing.  Each story breaks my heart on different degrees, but each one is VERY real to the person who is dealing with it.  For that reason, I pose this question?

“Has your story caused you to become prejudiced of other people’s stories?”

If you have paid over 40k for your medicines and treatments, is there a small part of you that looks down your nose at someone who is only on round 2 of a $15 Clomid prescription?

Does your having had a 2nd-trimester miscarriage make you MORE sad than someone who may have miscarried at 6 weeks?

When you visit personal infertility blogs, do you find yourself not giving credibility until you’ve read which cycle they are on?  How about whether or not they’ve been to an RE yet?

Is another woman’s fear of being infertile less valid than your diagnosis of infertility?

Do you turn your nose up at women who already have a child, but are struggling to get a second?

Do you believe that just because you’re married, your struggle means more than a single woman who wants a child as well?

Does a lesbian deserve LESS emotional support than you because she chooses to raise a family with her female partner?

If so, please grab a stone at the door and locate your nearest glass house.

CHECK YOURSELF.

This is yet another area where I feel  it is imperative that we begin self-evaluating.  This thing is REAL, to whomever is going through it, at whatever stage they are in the fight.  You can’t judge someone else’s pain to make yours more plausible.  Doesn’t that make you JUST like those who may have used the infertility profanity (“Just Relax”), on you?  Your downgrading someone else because they haven’t gone through as much as you is similar to a woman with five kids that she can’t control getting upset with YOU for wanting a baby.

As lonely as infertility is, it should be the goal of each of us that we find a way to embrace one another in this awareness movement.  This should be done regardless of whether they’ve “put in as much time”, money, or effort as you feel you have.  And remind yourself, other people do not OWE you the privilege of knowing the liner notes to their situation so be careful who you judge, they may have been through more than you think.  If they ask for your support, give it, in whatever (non-financial) manner they say that they need it.

It’s REAL.
For any and everyone touched by infertility in any way, it is REAL.
And pain is pain, no matter how it manifests.

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