...and the cost not listed on the Doctor's Treatment plan.
I have avoided blogging for years because when I sit down to blog, I just don't have much to say. Not a lot has changed for us. How do you keep writing and typing the same things over and over? Just trying to post something fun on Instagram is a challenge, but here it goes anyways. My not so fun blog post.
I am not much for talking about what is going on in my life more than just what is growing in my garden or how work is going. Opening up to others about how I really feel or sharing struggles with others because I hate to feel judged or looked down on for it is a huge anxiety I have. I know that practically no one would look down on me because I can’t have children, but in my head, I feel like I am less of a person because of it and I don’t want other people to look at me the way I look at myself. I also know so few people can bear that burden with me. When I do share with others, I often regret it, for fear of over sharing. ---Disclaimer, this is a post that is probably over sharing.---
I have thought about this for years. Literally years. The cost of Infertility is so great. Not just monetarily (and that it does pretty much cost you your first born child), but what it takes away from you emotionally, physically, socially, and spiritually. The toll it takes on you is so great. My heart literally breaks almost all the time.
Emotionally, I feel like a border-line basket case. Instead of being the happy person that would wake up in the morning excited for the day, I am discouraged. I am discouraged because instead of thinking I am one day closer to becoming a mother, I am one more day behind what I had hoped to become. Days turn into weeks, weeks to months, and now months to years. I dread thinking of the poor women who battle this for a decade or longer. For some, it’s a lifelong state. How terrible for those ladies.
I am also in a small state of panic almost constantly—- is someone going to ask me about my infertility? Are they going to go on and on about how they knew so-and-so who struggled with infertility who got pregnant or adopted and than got pregnant or some other miraculous story? Am I going to have to state why I can’t afford to do IVF right now? That I am too scared to ask for financial help from my parents even though they have all offered to help? All of these trigger anxiety almost instantly. The hardest part is, like 99% of the people who take the time to talk to you about it, care about you and want to give you hope. Only, it just makes you want to scream.
Physically my body has endured, but still has a long flippen’ way to go. I have done the shots, the ultrasounds (I cry through most of them because their is no baby on the screen—just emptiness), the stupid sonohypasonwhateveragram that also made me cry, the IUI treatments that make you cramp and sit on a table with all of your a-hum-hum hanging out, the progesterone that makes your body think it’s pregnant (but you're not), the lack of desire to take care of my body, the polycystic ovaries that make you feel like a small part of your body is exploding (oh wait, it is!), the clomid that makes you have hot flashes and craziness, and the trying to keep intimacy intimate and not a chore.
You lose so much sleep when during all of this too. You lay there awake at night thinking about your past; did I do something to deserve this? What could I have done differently? Am I paying for something I did?
You think about your present when your laying there at 2:00 in the morning. You think, "I have to wake up to go to work tomorrow. I can’t call in sick. I can’t afford to miss a day; the medical bills are stacking up faster than I can pay them. What will the doctor say at this next appointment? Will they even remember me?"
You think about your future when you're tossing and turning. Thoughts creep in and remind you, you are going to be the oldest mom at church or showing up to your kids school. Your friends are all on there 1st, 2nd, and 3rd children. You can't even have one. When I do have kids, my kid won’t have any cousins to play with in their age range. My nieces and nephews will have children before us. Will I be alive to see my children have their children grown? Will I be able to have more than one? Will I have to work all the time to pay for the medical debt just trying to get one? I can't afford adoption either. Ugh.
Your social life seems to tank too. It seems like the only time I am ever invited anywhere is to a party where you have to purchase something to make the hostess feel happy. The other thing I get invited to are baby showers. Oh my goodness, I used to love baby showers. It was so fun to spoil a mom-to-be with teeny-tiny baby clothes and talk about baby names and nursery colors. Now it breaks my heart into pieces smaller than baby powder. I remember the last baby shower I went to, I cried the whole way home and bawled for another hour. I was so happy for my friend, but I felt like a complete failure at the same time.
Once, I remember being invited to a very nice family's house with my husband for a meal. It was so fun, but I remember the host saying, “We weren't sure if we should invite you or not because you guys don’t have kids yet. We didn’t know if ours would be too annoying or if we would be too boring.” How wonderful the host was to invite us even though we didn’t have kids. Seriously. Most the time, I feel like it is much easier for people to be social with other people when they can invite friends over who aren’t gone all the time at the doctors or invite another family with children over so all the kids can play. It’s also terribly hard to entertain families with kids. I don’t have toys your kids can play with. I don’t have kids your kids can play with. My house isn’t kid proof. Your kids would get bored in like five minutes at my house. That sounds like a blast-NOT!
When I do get invited to a party that isn’t a baby shower or a come with your wallet party, I try and go, but it seems like I always sneak out early because all the other girls at the party are moms. Moms talk about their kids. That’s the way it should be too. Sometimes, it’s so hard to sit and listen though. Once again, you cannot be apart of this conversation. You feel like you have nothing to offer. When moms need to vent to others, part of you wants to scream because you would do anything to have a trashed house and a mom body and no time to yourself. Sometimes you snap and tell others to be grateful, but than you feel like a freaking jerk because being a parent is so hard and you had no right to tell them to pipe down.
I feel like I have lost so many friends on this journey. I also take the blame in that. I shut down after every bad doctor appointment or failed treatment and it takes a long time to bounce back. It’s hard to be a good friend when you feel like you have nothing to offer. I think friends are also scared to cause me greater pain and not tell me when they are having a baby or a get together or whatever. I feel like I have inadvertently burned a lot of bridges because of my infertility and lack of self esteem.
Spiritually, I often feel like I am on empty, just coasting by on fumes and need to not only have full tank, but enough to help others fill their tanks as well. I know without a doubt, the best way to fill your spiritual tank is by helping and serving others, but crap-it’s hard when you are depressed. When I go to church, I am instantly reminded of everything I am not. Seems like baby and family central at Church- go figure. I beg the Lord just to help me get through a meeting. When a baby is blessed, I step out. Don’t get me wrong, I am thrilled for you and this great event for your family, but I wonder when my husband will have the opportunity to hold his child in his arms and give it a name and a blessing and than show it off Lion-King Style with pure adoration showing on his face. I wonder when I will get the chance to dress my child in white and look into it’s blue eyes and have a moment of bliss while my family is fighting over who gets to hold my baby next.
As a woman, I often feel like it is my divine right to bear children. You also feel punished when you are baron. These are both not truths, but they are often thoughts I entertain and try to push out. I was reminded by a friend, some of the biggest trials talked about in the scriptures are of woman who desperately want a child, but cannot.
I promise after having a “woe is me” moment, I am not bitter all the time. I really am trying to find the rainbow after the rain. I know we will be okay, but I wanted to express what infertility has taken from me and what it takes from me in hopes that other woman could find some peace that they are not the only ones suffering and feeling spent. I know without a doubt going through this has made me a better person. I have learned so much. I am so incredibly grateful for my husband and family who has supported us through this challenge. I sincerely appreciate those ladies who take the time to open up about their struggles with infertility because it gives me more courage to keep on going.
So, wherever you are staring at a failed pregnancy test, know I love you and I am truly so sorry for you, but don’t give up! I'll share a couple midol with you, go buy tampons for you, eat chocolate and drink Diet Coke with you when your staring at that stupid negative sign!
