It’s National Infertility Awareness Week.
Last year at this time, I was in one of the
darkest places of my life. This year for NIAW, I am 34 weeks pregnant. My, how
much can change in a year.
Right now, I’m focused on baby showers, car
seat bases, and crib mattresses, but I am still infertile. My first 14 weeks of
pregnancy were wrought with anxiety, and even now I have moments of terror that
my baby will be born still. I picture my life in shambles after such a tragedy.
When people are excited about my pregnancy –
when they want to touch my belly, or talk about names, or ask how I’m feeling –
it shocks me. I never really learned how to be excited for pregnant people. I
only knew how to envy them in a deep, dark, painful place in my heart, and I
shut down around them because of this horrible feeling.
I don’t expect people to be happy for me,
but they are, and I don’t deserve their kindness. Deep down, I still feel like
a bitter infertile.
I am still infertile because pregnancy
announcements still hurt. It’s a little easier to be enthusiastic, and I
certainly don’t feel like someone is carving my heart out with a dull, rusty
spoon anymore. But it doesn’t feel good.
I will always be infertile because I cannot
remember my positive pregnancy test from IVF #2 without also remembering the
many, many negative pregnancy tests. Those negatives are like tiny pebbles in
my heart, as opposed to a giant boulder crushing my chest, but they are still
there.
And I am still infertile because my son is
not even born yet and I already worry that I won’t be able to give him a
sibling.
Infertility has colored every aspect of my
life. It has taught me how to be a better friend, wife, person. I am more
patient. I am far, far more humble. I understand that I am not in control. I
have learned how to advocate for myself as a medical consumer. I have learned
to never assume anything about anyone’s family situation. I have learned to
keep my mouth shut.
These lessons are valuable, but they were
hard earned. Infertility is a life crisis. Don’t ignore it – don’t ignore
friends going through it, don’t ignore those of us who are temporarily pregnant
infertiles. Don’t ignore your support system when everything goes dark around
you.
3 comments:
Great post Lulu! I agree with every word!!
I agree and understand you completely and yet in my case I'm blissfully happy and enjoying my miracle pregnancy. I don't think on the pain I went through, I'm leaving it behind. I'm aware of it, but I don't pay importance to it anymore. I'm a different person now.
I completely agree with every word! My baby girl is almost 6 months, and I still feel like a bitter infertile. I dread starting to try to give her a sibling. Infertility changes us in so many ways.
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