I’m just sayin’, this world of infertility is strange. It’s staring at HGTV with dozens of other couples in the waiting room watching Property Brothers and doing your damnedest not to smirk when a man gets called back to “the room”. It’s the pharmacist calling you into the private consultation area rather than ask in front of everyone if you need more of the vaginal medication or just the Prozac. It’s bills, and bloodwork, and sperm counts, trigger shots (why all the needles???), hopes, dreams, sweat, abnormal irritability, disappointment, joy, and seemingly, not a lot of bonding over arms that look like we are heroin addicts (that joke fell totally flat, dude!).
I would love to tackle infertility like some women do with perseverance, intellectualism, and grace but I’m just not sure that’s who I am. I’m the comic relief. I married the class clown. Our journey is different. It’s not gentle tears that course down my cheeks at bad news, it’s sobbing and mascara rivers. Tammy Faye Bakker-style. It’s not “oh well, there’s next month!”, it’s crap! I really thought this was it. It’s not stoicism during procedures and tests and results and more tests and results all in the quest for a baby and to the point that we no longer recognize our lives anymore. It’s laughing, and crying, and sweating, and yelling at your husband in the middle of IKEA because he’s talking super quietly and you can’t hear him. This is our journey. It may not be yours and that’s ok.
Blogging is not something I have ever thought I would do. It feels slightly voyeruistic and 100% terrifying. But where do I take all these questions, these concerns, the hilarious stories that seem impossible but are really happening. So you get to benefit (?) from them and perhaps gain insight into anyone else in your life who has gone through infertility. I have been journaling about this process since we got started last July. Having read some other women’s blogs, I feel like I’ve found a lot of blogs written for women that inspire hope and health. Shoot, some of the women could have MD’s in reproductive endocrinology with everything they learned. But I had a hard time finding the people who were frustrated, who were transparent, who were overwhelmed like me. More than once I thought, am I just the most immature, emotional woman who has ever been unable to conceive? So I thought, maybe I’ll write a blog of what we have done, what I have felt, and the unexpected laughs (and sadness) on the way. Over the next few weeks, I’m going to be posting about the procedures, medications, and tests we have experienced 1.) because they are strange and funny and 2.) because they might feel more like your girlfriends guide to infertility than reading a medical blog.
Reading some infertility blogs I think, where are the women like me? The whiners? The complainers? The ones who don’t think that vaginal progesterone is amazing and a medical marvel? Where are the women who giggle and cringe when the RN tells you to go in past the clenching muscle, to the second knuckle. I can’t make this stuff up! There is nowhere on earth where this is appropriate conversation for polite company and it is my everyday life. Baby making, baby birthing, and problems therein are just for behind closed doors. Baby raising, and now apparently, breast feeding, are things we talk about all the time. They are the beautiful parts of children but the sad story of how we get there is not talked about.
You should know, I don’t want to be the one who changes that stigma. I am actually perfectly fine with our segmented society where I don’t seem a woman’s breast at dinner or a woman who ran a marathon without a tampon to advocate for women’s rights. You do you, girlfriend. I don’t need to see that. I am actually quite uncomfortable with the idea of other people knowing my business and my life. But I think I struggle more with the thought of going through this alone and not telling people what is really going on in our lives. It is isolating but it is only isolating if I don’t say anything and I suppose saying something is also my style in my quest to be authentic. As I said, this is our journey and no doubt, it’s very different than anyone else’s but I want to encourage you to share yours. Please, share yours. Because the world needs to know. You matter, your uterus matters, and more importantly, your heart matters.