What I've learned so far...
Scars...
I have so many. One laparotomy scar. 2 front hip scars. 2 side hips scars.
But perhaps the worst scars are invisible. The one large scar on my heart from my miscarriage and the long scar of 41 cycles of infertility.
What I've learned so far....well...
1. Baby loss is horrible. Absolutely traumatic.
It has been almost a year since my little girl died at 8 weeks and 2 days. My first pregnancy after 29 months of trying resulted in something I never expected. You do die a little or a lot that day. You never forget. Losing a baby to a chemical pregnancy, 1st trimester or further, or after birth is traumatic. There are no degrees for what is worst than the other. It is all bad. Personally, I would've rather never gotten pregnant versus lose a child. Those women who've lost more than one are truly strong. I don't think I could manage it. One miscarriage really broke my heart a lot. I don't believe in the saying "It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all." Nope not one bit. You never get over it. It always stays with you.
2. I'm tired of everything.
Like you, this list could go on and on. I'm tired of others getting pregnant easily or seemingly easier. I'm tired of spending all this money on chances that don't work out. I'm tired of being moody, bitter, and generally depressed.
3. I know that no one understands what you've been through unless they too have experienced it.
Casual comments of "Just relax", "You're young", "It'll happen", etc. make my blood boil. I have become more assertive and easily offended anymore. From crying at Carter's while buying my future nephew clothes and being interrogated by the cashier while I didn't want to give my name and address to get coupons. A simple "My baby died" shut them up quickly and made them feel embarrassed enough to say it happened to them. Well, then why would you say anything about me not wanting coupons if you've experienced it? What does it matter to you?
4. I cry more than I ever used to.
Why? Between pills, shots, blood tests, procedures, and surgeries, it's a lot of time spent in clinics and hospitals. Is this how I ever envisioned my life would be after getting a Master's degree. I was so naive then. Thinking it would be just a few tries to get pregnant. I've had broken fingers, collarbones, and other injuries. I consider myself to be a tough person...sports did that to me. However, I am not that person anymore. Infertility has changed me. Pain has changed me.
5. I'm angry.
Yeah, you bet I'm angry. I spent $10 a month from the age of 18 to 27 on birth control pills. Could I please have that money back to do IVF? I spent my college life doing well in school. Crazily getting degrees in Early Childhood Education and Elementary Education to become knowledgeable about kids which I will never have of my own. "My kids" will most likely refer to my students.
6. Month to month roller coaster rides are no bueno.
Starting with CD1, you cry. Then the next few days you're just wishing you'd get to your baseline ultrasound You cross your fingers that if there's cysts, maybe your Estradiol won't be too high and they'll continue with your cycle. You move from being sad to kinda hopeful. You get to your mid-cycle ultrasound and see follicle sizes you're not happy with. Maybe one side of your uterus is "sleeping". You leave depressed or angry or both! Then you move on to injecting more. Hoping your trigger shot does it's magic. Your first IUI is more easy than the 2nd one of the cycle. You cry when that stupid cervix wants to close up and the nurse says "I'm going to get the other speculum". Ugh. You lay for your 10 minute wait playing on your cellphone and hoping those damn sperm swim like they're at the Olympics. You start your Crinone gel 2 days later hopeful and happy the egg and sperm are meeting up and implanting. The little white clumps from the gel are annoying, but you keep thinking this is just a same annoyance. Then after a week from your IUI you get your Prolactin and Progesterone done. And if you're like me, you worry that it's too low...like it's been like that forever. You hear a high number and suddenly are smiling. Your husband says that he hasn't seen a genuine smile on your face for who knows when. Then you wait another week and anxiously anticipate getting your HCG beta test only to have them say "Negative" when you call them. Cry again and repeat.
7. It doesn't get easier the more cycles you do.
You'd think that you got this infertility thing down pat. Call RE's office on CD1. Buy meds. Start bloodwork. And so and so on. The months that you take off to either give yourself an emotional, physical, or financial break are ones where you put a teeny bit of hope in: maybe this month I'll get pregnant for free naturally. 41 cycles. I know that is not a lot compared to many infertiles. Some of you have already quit before hitting the over 3 years mark. Some of you are totally tapped out and are done for good. Moving onto the realization that this will never work, moving onto adoption or surrogacy. With each cycle that doesn't work out, a new list of worries and wonders starts to shift from the back of your brain to the front: when will we quit? Will we afford adoption? When will we start the process? Will we even do adoption? Are we going to still hope that things might work out? Questions, questions, questions. When insurance doesn't cover our battles and our dreams are crushed, the human spirit gets tattered and torn. You can't help be feel defeated. You shake your head in disgust how last month, you though this was the cycle. Or last year when you had that triphasic chart and your temps just seemed perfect.
8. I'm not any less than a woman because I'm struggling to have a child.
This is something that I've had a hard time with. Once you've been diagnosed with being infertile, you start to resent the body you've had. How can this be? I've always gotten my period or I've always been careful. With the short time period before having a child becomes too tricky, you think your time to become a mother is quickly dwindling And why shouldn't you think that? Egg quality is scientific and age continues to move forward. However, just because you cannot have kids doesn't mean that you are somehow less than a woman who can. It's just simply not true. You are a woman. You've fought hard through many obstacles in your life. This thing called infertility is a bitch. It will beat you down and comes in waves after waves of tiny triumphs and big waves of disappointment. Please don't ever think that because you are infertile you are any less worthy than any random fertile woman.
9. Seeking professional help and starting meds is what smart people do...not weak.
I'll admit that I used to assume only really 'crazy' people needed therapy. I thought it was for those who had some mental illness or weird thing going on. Why can't you talk to your friends or family about your problems? Well...what if it's the same broken record. I'm infertile. I had a miscarriage. Those are my main two sorrowful statements. All my weepiness, anger, and bitterness reside on those 2 statements. Will family and friends be there for you through all the ups and downs? Of course, if you tell them about it. My husband has been amazing. Does he get annoyed with me? Yeah, I'll admit it he does at times. But, I tell you what: I couldn't tell my friends and family about it until I was ready. And only certain family and friends had 'earned' the right to hear it from me. This is my story. I did find the more I shared with others, they too had go through the same things. Making the choice to go to talk therapy wasn't hard. I knew it was time to talk to someone that was objective. Someone that was a professional and trained in the coping skills that I needed to manage these feelings. After I didn't improve on my mood and feelings, my therapist recommend me seeing the psychiatrist. I wasn't embarrassed or worried: I knew that I couldn't manage on talk therapy alone. Since starting Prozac and Ativan, I can honestly say that I'm much better. Do I still get weepy and angry? Yeah, but it's not as often. This struggle of infertility will wear on you, so if you're curious about starting talk therapy, do it. If your insurance pays for it like mine did, do as much as you can. If your insurance doesn't and you have copays, maybe just do it as often as you can. I will hope that you'll feel better in dealing with your feelings like myself. You are not weak to seek out professional help. It is not noble to suffer through something when there's professionals who are trained to help.
10. You think you're the only one hurting, but you're wrong.
Since starting this blog/site, whatever you want to call it, I have had the amazing luck to be repinned on Pinterest and emailed...all from infertiles and pregnancy loss survivors like you. I've had friends who get pregnant easily tell me that they were moved to tears reading the real life struggles. I really did do this site as a way to get off my feelings about all this crap. Since starting talk therapy, I've educated my therapist on infertility methods and procedures. I've had others comment that they now know more about infertility and baby loss and they thank me for it. You see, if I kept quiet...which I did for over a year...I felt more alone. Don't get me wrong: I don't sing it from the mountain tops that I'm infertile. However, I do tell more people when getting asked those crazy questions. Most people are just inquiring without being rude on purpose. Some are of course. A friend of mine recently had her 3rd miscarriage. Because I was open with her about mine, she told me that she could confide in me about it. She could talk to me about the D&C, spotting, and when to try again. She said she couldn't talk to anyone else. Now, of course there could've been others who had similar situations, but if they're not vocal about it, you cannot connect. To each their own: if you don't want others to know, that is perfectly 'normal'. I wish I could meet every infertile woman and just look them in the eye and say: I know how you feel. This sucks. I'm right here with you. Let's battle this bitch called infertility together. Let's be strong together.
I have so many. One laparotomy scar. 2 front hip scars. 2 side hips scars.
But perhaps the worst scars are invisible. The one large scar on my heart from my miscarriage and the long scar of 41 cycles of infertility.
What I've learned so far....well...
1. Baby loss is horrible. Absolutely traumatic.
It has been almost a year since my little girl died at 8 weeks and 2 days. My first pregnancy after 29 months of trying resulted in something I never expected. You do die a little or a lot that day. You never forget. Losing a baby to a chemical pregnancy, 1st trimester or further, or after birth is traumatic. There are no degrees for what is worst than the other. It is all bad. Personally, I would've rather never gotten pregnant versus lose a child. Those women who've lost more than one are truly strong. I don't think I could manage it. One miscarriage really broke my heart a lot. I don't believe in the saying "It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all." Nope not one bit. You never get over it. It always stays with you.
2. I'm tired of everything.
Like you, this list could go on and on. I'm tired of others getting pregnant easily or seemingly easier. I'm tired of spending all this money on chances that don't work out. I'm tired of being moody, bitter, and generally depressed.
3. I know that no one understands what you've been through unless they too have experienced it.
Casual comments of "Just relax", "You're young", "It'll happen", etc. make my blood boil. I have become more assertive and easily offended anymore. From crying at Carter's while buying my future nephew clothes and being interrogated by the cashier while I didn't want to give my name and address to get coupons. A simple "My baby died" shut them up quickly and made them feel embarrassed enough to say it happened to them. Well, then why would you say anything about me not wanting coupons if you've experienced it? What does it matter to you?
4. I cry more than I ever used to.
Why? Between pills, shots, blood tests, procedures, and surgeries, it's a lot of time spent in clinics and hospitals. Is this how I ever envisioned my life would be after getting a Master's degree. I was so naive then. Thinking it would be just a few tries to get pregnant. I've had broken fingers, collarbones, and other injuries. I consider myself to be a tough person...sports did that to me. However, I am not that person anymore. Infertility has changed me. Pain has changed me.
5. I'm angry.
Yeah, you bet I'm angry. I spent $10 a month from the age of 18 to 27 on birth control pills. Could I please have that money back to do IVF? I spent my college life doing well in school. Crazily getting degrees in Early Childhood Education and Elementary Education to become knowledgeable about kids which I will never have of my own. "My kids" will most likely refer to my students.
6. Month to month roller coaster rides are no bueno.
Starting with CD1, you cry. Then the next few days you're just wishing you'd get to your baseline ultrasound You cross your fingers that if there's cysts, maybe your Estradiol won't be too high and they'll continue with your cycle. You move from being sad to kinda hopeful. You get to your mid-cycle ultrasound and see follicle sizes you're not happy with. Maybe one side of your uterus is "sleeping". You leave depressed or angry or both! Then you move on to injecting more. Hoping your trigger shot does it's magic. Your first IUI is more easy than the 2nd one of the cycle. You cry when that stupid cervix wants to close up and the nurse says "I'm going to get the other speculum". Ugh. You lay for your 10 minute wait playing on your cellphone and hoping those damn sperm swim like they're at the Olympics. You start your Crinone gel 2 days later hopeful and happy the egg and sperm are meeting up and implanting. The little white clumps from the gel are annoying, but you keep thinking this is just a same annoyance. Then after a week from your IUI you get your Prolactin and Progesterone done. And if you're like me, you worry that it's too low...like it's been like that forever. You hear a high number and suddenly are smiling. Your husband says that he hasn't seen a genuine smile on your face for who knows when. Then you wait another week and anxiously anticipate getting your HCG beta test only to have them say "Negative" when you call them. Cry again and repeat.
7. It doesn't get easier the more cycles you do.
You'd think that you got this infertility thing down pat. Call RE's office on CD1. Buy meds. Start bloodwork. And so and so on. The months that you take off to either give yourself an emotional, physical, or financial break are ones where you put a teeny bit of hope in: maybe this month I'll get pregnant for free naturally. 41 cycles. I know that is not a lot compared to many infertiles. Some of you have already quit before hitting the over 3 years mark. Some of you are totally tapped out and are done for good. Moving onto the realization that this will never work, moving onto adoption or surrogacy. With each cycle that doesn't work out, a new list of worries and wonders starts to shift from the back of your brain to the front: when will we quit? Will we afford adoption? When will we start the process? Will we even do adoption? Are we going to still hope that things might work out? Questions, questions, questions. When insurance doesn't cover our battles and our dreams are crushed, the human spirit gets tattered and torn. You can't help be feel defeated. You shake your head in disgust how last month, you though this was the cycle. Or last year when you had that triphasic chart and your temps just seemed perfect.
8. I'm not any less than a woman because I'm struggling to have a child.
This is something that I've had a hard time with. Once you've been diagnosed with being infertile, you start to resent the body you've had. How can this be? I've always gotten my period or I've always been careful. With the short time period before having a child becomes too tricky, you think your time to become a mother is quickly dwindling And why shouldn't you think that? Egg quality is scientific and age continues to move forward. However, just because you cannot have kids doesn't mean that you are somehow less than a woman who can. It's just simply not true. You are a woman. You've fought hard through many obstacles in your life. This thing called infertility is a bitch. It will beat you down and comes in waves after waves of tiny triumphs and big waves of disappointment. Please don't ever think that because you are infertile you are any less worthy than any random fertile woman.
9. Seeking professional help and starting meds is what smart people do...not weak.
I'll admit that I used to assume only really 'crazy' people needed therapy. I thought it was for those who had some mental illness or weird thing going on. Why can't you talk to your friends or family about your problems? Well...what if it's the same broken record. I'm infertile. I had a miscarriage. Those are my main two sorrowful statements. All my weepiness, anger, and bitterness reside on those 2 statements. Will family and friends be there for you through all the ups and downs? Of course, if you tell them about it. My husband has been amazing. Does he get annoyed with me? Yeah, I'll admit it he does at times. But, I tell you what: I couldn't tell my friends and family about it until I was ready. And only certain family and friends had 'earned' the right to hear it from me. This is my story. I did find the more I shared with others, they too had go through the same things. Making the choice to go to talk therapy wasn't hard. I knew it was time to talk to someone that was objective. Someone that was a professional and trained in the coping skills that I needed to manage these feelings. After I didn't improve on my mood and feelings, my therapist recommend me seeing the psychiatrist. I wasn't embarrassed or worried: I knew that I couldn't manage on talk therapy alone. Since starting Prozac and Ativan, I can honestly say that I'm much better. Do I still get weepy and angry? Yeah, but it's not as often. This struggle of infertility will wear on you, so if you're curious about starting talk therapy, do it. If your insurance pays for it like mine did, do as much as you can. If your insurance doesn't and you have copays, maybe just do it as often as you can. I will hope that you'll feel better in dealing with your feelings like myself. You are not weak to seek out professional help. It is not noble to suffer through something when there's professionals who are trained to help.
10. You think you're the only one hurting, but you're wrong.
Since starting this blog/site, whatever you want to call it, I have had the amazing luck to be repinned on Pinterest and emailed...all from infertiles and pregnancy loss survivors like you. I've had friends who get pregnant easily tell me that they were moved to tears reading the real life struggles. I really did do this site as a way to get off my feelings about all this crap. Since starting talk therapy, I've educated my therapist on infertility methods and procedures. I've had others comment that they now know more about infertility and baby loss and they thank me for it. You see, if I kept quiet...which I did for over a year...I felt more alone. Don't get me wrong: I don't sing it from the mountain tops that I'm infertile. However, I do tell more people when getting asked those crazy questions. Most people are just inquiring without being rude on purpose. Some are of course. A friend of mine recently had her 3rd miscarriage. Because I was open with her about mine, she told me that she could confide in me about it. She could talk to me about the D&C, spotting, and when to try again. She said she couldn't talk to anyone else. Now, of course there could've been others who had similar situations, but if they're not vocal about it, you cannot connect. To each their own: if you don't want others to know, that is perfectly 'normal'. I wish I could meet every infertile woman and just look them in the eye and say: I know how you feel. This sucks. I'm right here with you. Let's battle this bitch called infertility together. Let's be strong together.