Tag: Alone

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In the Shadows

Perusing through The Infertility Voice’s Facebook page, my pointer slowly hovers over the ‘like’ button, and then it moves away, only to find its way back, but eventually leaves the page altogether.  With every blog post I write, or article I read related to infertility, I find myself on the fence of “liking” and “sharing”, but only to hold back.  I am still in the shadows…I still feel shame or embarrassment on some level and I shouldn’t, no one going through this should.  Only four people in my circles know about my blog and none of them have the url – that really says something.

As I wander the vast landscape of interconnecting articles, posts, and couples emotionally sharing with complete strangers online, I wonder if there is a privacy setting so no one else can see if I too chime in.  Sometimes I think it will be a relief, just to let it out and show my friends and family…all of them…that it’s been over two long years of trying to have our child.  Part of me thinks back to when Chrissy Teigen went public with her fertility struggle…it was so moving and inspiring (Tyra too), but then to find out weeks later she was expecting.  I wonder…would she have been so open if she wasn’t pregnant?  Will I be that way?  I know if my husband and I do have children I will openly share our struggle (sans some of the details of course!), but why not now?  Is it because our future is still unclear?  I don’t know the outcome for certain, and yes, I know that confines me.

I have a distant friend who adopted her son about two years ago and just gave birth to another son.  She calls them both miracles.  Some time ago, I saw her “like” a news post about a local doctor she went to – he specializes in treating endometriosis.  After visiting her Facebook page I noticed she followed an endometriosis group.  Now, here is a person to open up to – although it’s been quite some time since we saw each other, we both have endometriosis (I’m assuming) and perhaps she too has struggled with infertility.  And yet I haven’t reached out.  I am so fearful that my story will spread through the grapevine and people will start poking into our business.  It’s always been my instinct to gradually wade into the water… 

I wonder how many other couples hold back from loved ones…I wonder how many times we’ve sat across from friends or family who also struggled.  The prospect of knowledge gained should really overcome any fear we have, and yet often times it does not.  I don’t want pity, I want answers and perhaps opening up to others can provide me with those answers, or better yet, perhaps I can help someone else out.  So many of us struggle silently in reality, yet have no problems opening up to an online forum.  Perhaps that’s because we already know we have allies waiting online, complete strangers who can “get” what we are going through, more so than our closest friends and family to the best of our knowledge.

It’s a very personal thing, deciding who and when to share our struggle with…it doesn’t come easy at all.  My feelings on it change with every phase.  I don’t think I was strong enough last year or the year before to share my story openly, but I think I’m getting closer.  I know I would like to.

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Odd Woman Out

What is it with this fertility struggle that brings you back to feeling like you are in grade school?  As a 34 year old woman, I sometimes can’t believe the thoughts that enter my head when it comes to having a baby.  I sit with my two friends, one already has a 2-year-old, the other has just mentioned she and her husband are going to start trying, and the first thought that enters my head is “Oh F#ck, now I’m going to be left out”.  It’s reminiscent of not wanting to be last picked for a team, or making sure you have a seat with the girls in the cafeteria.  You don’t want to be left out…left behind in life.

The fact that I felt fear of being the only one without a child, well before my friend has even started trying, makes me feel that I have really gone off my rocker.  As we sit there and talk yet again about kids, (I suppose the topic will continue to come up when you’re in your mid-thirties), I try my best to hold back cynicism.  Sometimes I feel like a fool – sitting there, thinking to myself I’m the only one who can’t have kids.  I feel like I shouldn’t be part of the conversation, like I have no business chiming in and faking my smile. 

Just before Thanksgiving the girls and I met for dinner.  A week in advance I started preparing myself for my friend, we’ll call her ‘P’, to announce that she was pregnant.  She is the same friend who over the summer said she and her husband just started trying.  I just had a feeling this was coming.  As we order martinis, she goes for a ginger ale – this is a girl who drinks martinis whenever we get together, so immediately I knew.  She was cute with her announcement, it was very nonchalant, and after the congrats and hugs, the next 40 minutes (which seemed liked hours to me) was filled with baby and pregnancy talk.  My other two friends talked about their pregnancies, when they found out, and what it was like, meanwhile, my hands grasped firmly to the bottom of the tabletop; I literally had to keep myself from running out of the restaurant.

I’m sad to say that I couldn’t wait to get out of there.  As soon as I got in the cab, the tears swelled.  Arriving home, I could not look at my husband – I felt so worthless, ashamed, broken, as if there was something fundamentally wrong with me as a woman.  It’s as if we’re waiting on the platform and everyone else is getting on the train while my husband and I are still waiting for our ticket.  I wave happily and wish all the soon-to-be moms well, but I wonder, will we ever get to board?

I want to be encouraging and supportive to all my friends, but I’ve noticed these days I have to hold my tongue from “warning” them about waiting too long or putting your career on hold for something that may not come.  When I hear them talk about having a second baby by year’s end, immediately I want to warn about secondary infertility, but I don’t.  I hold myself back because my story isn’t their story, and chances are, it won’t be God willing.