Infertility reflections

 

Before my infertility trip, I had no idea what infertile people went through.  I had never given it a thought. I knew no one who was infertile, and I could only guess at how much pain an infertile person goes through.

 

That guess didn’t even come close to how hard it is.

 

When I was in the midst of it all, I sometimes wondered when / if I got to the other side, whether I would look back at it all and think ‘oh, it wasn’t THAT bad’.  I wondered if it seemed worse while I was in it.  Whether it wasn’t that bad after all.

 

Having reached the other side, and looking back, I can say, without doubt, it WAS that bad. 

 

It was fucking terrible.

 

I suppose for someone who is totally removed from that world, it must be difficult to understand the pain and the anguish that an infertile person goes through. Perhaps you don’t want children. Or perhaps you are uber-fertile. Or perhaps you do want children, kind of, but not right now.  Either way, it must be hard to understand how being infertile can be THAT bad, THAT painful?

 

Infertile people can be so angry, so bitter, so woeful at times. They are so sad, so mad.

 

And for people on the outside looking in, it must be very hard to comprehend this sad, mad, bad world the infertile people live in. It must be so tempting to hand out platitudes, like ‘just relax’, or ‘just don’t think about it’. It must be hard not to get irritated with them. ‘Just get over it already, look at all the good things you have in your life’.  It is hard to be friends with an infertile person. They are so prickly.

 

It is difficult to explain to people what it feels like to be infertile in a fertile world.  Even when you do try and explain it, it sounds so trite, so ‘woe is me’. 

 

How do you explain it?

 

Well, in order to help you understand a little of what it is like, just think about what infertile people do in order to stop their pain, to find a ‘cure’. 

 

They pay thousands of dollars, they mortgage their lives, they take on extra jobs, they move states to try and find insurance cover. It is so expensive. No one would do this just for fun, or on a whim.  Clearly. And besides the mental and emotional anguish, they put themselves through all sorts of physical pain as part of the process.  They inject themselves in the belly, thigh, wherever. I remember injecting myself in the toilet at a party; I hit a vein and blood came shooting out my belly. There I stood, stabbing a needle into my belly, trying to stop the flow of blood shooting out.  While other people laughed, and danced and drank. I once heated up my PIO injection a bit too much and injected too hot oil into my butt, which burnt me from the inside out, leaving a massive welt of a scar.  Another reminder of my infertility days.

 

Infertiles will take all sorts of drugs and hormones as part of their treatment, KNOWING that these drugs make them ill, make them miserable, make them fat.  Knowing that these drugs could increase their risk of other diseases. 

 

I was recently chatting to a friend in the computer who was busy with an IVF cycle. She was feeling really terrible, very nauseous, puking everywhere. Nauseous, bone tired.  She thought it was ‘just’ a side effect of the hormone treatment, and dutifully carried on injecting.  Turns out she was actually really ill. The poor woman. The things she will endure as part of her quest.

 

You have to know that if someone is prepared to do all of these things, and so much more, to achieve their dream, that it is more than just a whim, more than just a fancy.  This is real, this is primal. Wanting a child for these women is not something they casually desire. This is something they yearn for, with every single fibre of their being.

 

And they carry on, cycle after cycle.  They do this to themselves again and again.  They face all sorts of resistance from people around them; they question whether they should continue. 

 

If what I have said still does not convince you, then consider this: According to some research, infertility patients are second only to cancer patients in what they will endure in order to find a ‘cure’.

 

That has got to tell you something.

 

I know infertile people can be hard to be around.  They are often so sad. And sometimes so angry. I used to be part of an infertility support group for people who had been around a long time.  It is an especially sad / funny / cynical / bitter / angry group.  It is a group of people who have been at it for a long time.  I still read the stuff they write, and I can see now why some people reacted so badly to me when I was in the middle of it all.  Because those girls are very angry, very sad. Bitter. The things they say are the same things I said, a few years back.  That used to be me. Sad / mad / bitter. Prickly. Angry. 

 

As I said, when I was in it I sometimes wondered if I would look bad and wonder if I was overreacting, that it wasn’t so bad after all.  But looking back, having just written my infertility story for my book, I can honestly say that it was that bad. Yes it might be irrational sometimes, yes we might be over the top sometimes.  I know we are hard to be around. It is hard not to be sensitive, over-sensitive when this is your everyday reality. But it is tough, very tough. 

 

I am glad I have written my book.  For myself, and for other people.

 

I am not writing this post so that people can feel sorry for me.  Don’t feel sorry for me, I’ve made it to the other side.  I am one of the lucky ones. I am writing this for all the people still trying, for the friend / sister / colleague of yours who sometimes seems so sad, so angry.  And yet, I am not writing this so that you can feel sorry for the person.  Infertile people don’t want your pity.  That is not what they are after.  All they want is a bit of sensitivity, a bit of sympathy.  In fact, what they really want is just a bit of understanding.  Understanding that it is hard for them, that being infertile in a fertile world is very alienating, very lonely. Very painful. Terrifying.  And hopefully if you can understand some of that, you can be sensitive, and supportive.  Kind. And that is all infertile people really want.

 

It’s hard you know; it is really really hard.  Harder than you can ever imagine. 

Comments

[Sharon]

I do not know what it is like to be infertile. I do not want to know. I am so very glad that you are on the other side. I am glad that you have not forgotten what you went through because it is so much a part of you. At least the part that I have come to know through my short time reading your blog. Thank you for sharing this.

[Boulder]

This is why I love you, because you get it. Even though you are on the other side you haven't forgotten, and you care enough to try to help educate people about what being IF is like and about.

[tess]

absolutely. great post. even though boulder should be asleep, she sums it well...you haven't forgotten. having children doesn't make you forget the side emotions/actions infertility brings: the feeling that you are defective, angst when you see a softly rounded pregnant belly, the holding back tears at a baby shower, the frustration when someone asks, "so when will you two be having a baby?" the anticipation each cycle brings, how you divide your year into 12 opportunities to get pregnant, you compare everything to what that could buy you in a cycle, if everytime you are typing about a friend in hospital who needs an IV, you type in IVF, and if you have stopped trying for whatever reason, it still upsets you when someone calls themselves "a fertile myrtle".

you have written a great book, that will give comfort to thousands. not because you have beautiful twins, but because someone else has experienced their emotions, the exclusion that infertility sometimes brings...their lives. bless you tee, and have a wonderful Easter sunday.

[Bea]

Thankyou. I'm comforted to hear you don't forget, even if you succeed. I don't want to forget either. I don't want to go through this for nothing. I don't want to survive the experience just to have it taken away.

Bea

[Jen-Mutt-AKA wolfette]

Thank you...for taking the time to write this and compile your previous infertility posts all into one. One of the reasons I keep coming back to your blog is because of the fact that you didnt suddenly get amnesia of what its like to be infertile. You are still so in touch with what some of us are still trudging through. I believe that some other lucky ones who have made it to the other side...choose to forget or choose to ignore the infertility life because it is just too gosh darn awful...I mean, really...who would want to go back and dip your foot into a pool of man eating pirahnaas? Thanks..for not forgetting us...and most of all for acknowledging the pain..even though you are on the 'other' side.

[meg from the egg]

Tertia - You're right, it is just understanding we want. For people to know and apprciate why there is such urgency. Most of my friends are still in the late-twenties-living-in-share-houses-and-partying mode where they can barely imagine even wanting children at all. So they don't even nearly get it. Thank you for remembering. That said, I read your blogs and others like it so that I CAN see the other side. It's not always easy to remember "what it's all for" when you're right in it.

[Sassy]

Thank you for writing about it. I think having people understand makes a big difference during the bad times. I recently found this - http://www.helane.com/famguide.htm - at Meg from the Egg's blog and have sent it around to a few non-infertiles but one still managed to completely miss the point. It can be so frustrating which is why I'm so greatful for the internet.

[Isabel]

Thank you - for validating how I have felt for the last 18 years of my life!

[Bridgette]

Perfectly said T. My son is almost 3, and yet quite often when I look at him, I remember what it took to get him here, and I am so grateful. Even though I was one of the lucky infertiles (I already had a daughter) it was still a very painful time. Now that I am on the other side, I am so thankful. Being off that rollercoaster feels very nice. And yet I still visit IF blogs every day. I want to see other infertiles "cross over". I silently cheer them on every single day, waiting to witness their happy ending.

The one thing I have struggles with a bit is finding out who I am without infertility/TTC. I spent so many years living that life, it seems like now something is missing. Its hard to explain, but it had become such a part of my life. It had become who I was. And now I am in another (much better) place, and while I wouldn't go back for ANYTHING, it is a bit strange.

[Christine K]

Thank you for expressing it so well. I look back sometimes and wonder how we survived it.

I had a very interesting conversation with a stranger back when I was leaving my ob checkup. I got in the elevator after my appointment and another woman (also obviously preggo) got in too. The next floor down, we stopped and an older woman (I'd guess around 65) got on. After a brief silence, she asked how far along we were (both 32 weeks). Then she made a comment about take good care of ourselves, we have no idea what miracles we have. I forget exactly what I said, but something to the effect of truly understanding how lucky I was. Which led to a discussion of fertility treatments. This woman had tried to have children years ago and gone through a massive amount and had no luck. She was at the clinic that day for followup after treatment for very agressive breast cancer. I was stunned by what she said next. She told me that infertility was much harder than cancer in her experience. I'm sure not everyone would feel the same way, but this lady sure did.

[Suzie-Q.]

A very thought provoking reminder for those people who have forgotten.
My journey was not so long, nor rocky, nor difficult, yet, it was hellish and unforgettable.
The best thing i have done as a result is just be there for other IF friends. I am their touchstone and it feels good to be of use and help when in the past i felt so useless and helpless.

[Suzie-Q.]

BTW.. have you noticed on your poll today that more of us are willing to give up sex than our cell phones!!!

[Beth]

Tertia - all I can say is thank you for this post. I am in one of the dark places today and I know that everyone around me thinks I am so melodramtic - that it isn't *that bad*. Oh but it is to me, it is to me.

[Tertia]

Christine, I have a close friend who lost her leg through cancer. She is also infertile. She says infertility is harder to deal with.

I got chills when I read your comment.

Tertia

[Me]

Great post. I am struck about how your words just ring so true. I am about to undergo IVF #3. The last one ended in an early miscarriage. The one before turned out negative from the get-go. Today would have been the day we would have told our families we were finally expecting if we had made it this far. However, it wasn't meant to be. So, we're back at square one. Reset - if you will - hoping for another chance. Though I am only at IVF #3, I feel like I have been doing this for a lifetime. I don't remember my life before IVF. EVERYTHING revolves around /encompasses it and insensitivity from relatives/strangers doesn't help. I actually had one person ask me why I wasn't pregnant yet. I am getting old. I should really get on it. I was 28 at the time, married for one year. Just about to start IVF #1. She went on and said "What is it? Do you hate children and that's why you are still without one?" I didn't know what to say to that. I wanted to run away and hide in a corner. Me? Hating children? It's so far from the truth! So far!
Infertility is an extremely lonely journey with all these reminders that you are not "normal". That even if you manage to succeed and get pregnant - you are still so not out of the woods. I am scared for the next cycle. I can feel the bitterness bubble up with every unsuccessful cycle. I admit I have a hard time imagining this ever working out and the thought is immobilizing cuz I don't know what I would do if I don't ultimately succeed.
This comment is turning out longer than I meant to have it but I guess your words just struck me in their honesty. You managed to say exactly what I feel and since I haven't come out to the other side and don't know if I ever will - I appreciate you bringing out these feelings/thoughts. I feel when I talk about it with fertile or non-infertile friends (which I have done less and less of) that I am being whiney. Self-absorbed and depressing. So I don't talk. I change subjects cuz really they don't understand and I can't make them. This is a choice I took - undergoing multiple IVFs to achieve my biggest and most innate desire. However, really, it hasn't been a choice for me all along. In my mind, I have no other choice. This is the only path I can be on where I can have some control (though really that's a farce! :)). It maddens me at times that for so many people this is not even a thought. It "just happens"! If I live in a bubble, I am ok - but once I am out and about in the real world - I feel exposed. Raw.

Sorry for the long post. You obviously hit a nerve. Thank you for your amazing post. I cannot wait until your book. :)

[Charmaine]

Tertia, hopefully you only get one post my first only had your name (very emotional day). Thank you so much for this post. Today being Easter and another "holiday" just makes the whole reality of being childless more horrid. If it wasn't for my parents coming over today we'd be all alone. I do have 2 grown step sons that work on the holidays but they are not my children and time does not heal the emptiness. I love you for never forgetting those of us left behind so to say and those that still struggle.

[korin]

Another person writing to thank you for this post.
My struggle wasn't as long or as arduous as most. We got lucky on our first IVF. I have had (thankfully) no losses. However, what we endured was hard, painful, life sucking. We lost friends (I dont' think they were really friends in the first place) we lost time, we lost ourselves.
Once the IVF was successful, i tried so hard (and still do at 32 weeks) to be a 'normal' pregnant person. I feel so weird around fertile pregnants, I feel different. I had one friend say "oh you should relish every moment of pregnancy it goes so fast"... to which I thought, 'oh, i do. i do. you have NO IDEA.'
In many many ways i'm thankful for what we went through, we learned so much about eachother, ourselves and the world around us. I am a different person thanks to IF. I like who that person is. (well once I shed the bitter angry stuff). I have done something that many people will never experience. We have conquered, we have survived. We are not alone.
Thank you for being real, and for reminding us.

[millie]

I'm so very glad you wrote your book and this post as well. You have done so much good with your writing already and I'm so thankful to have found your words and your friendship. It helps so many to have someone who while just speaking for herself, speaks so very well for all of us.

[Samara]

Tertia- Thank you for writing your story, for posting about the other side and for remembering and understanding what it's like to be on the infertile side. Understanding is something that I wish more would have in my real life. Thank goodness for the internets or I'd probably be a lost shell of the person that I am. Again thank you for speaking for us.

[Penny Farthing]

Tertia, what a perfect post. I wish I could add something deep and meaningful, but I honestly don't feel that I can make that any better. Thankyou, I needed that today :)

I've seen studies that show that IF is harder than cancer, because patients with cancer usually feel that there is an end in sigh, even though one possible end isn't very pleasant at all, whereas IF patients usually feel there may never be any end to the struggle they are going through, and may have to live the rest of their lives with this terrible agony.

[beth]

i may not know firsthand what it's like, but i don't doubt its misery--the need to reproduce is a human need like sleeping or eating or anything else. if it's thwarted, the pain must be on a deep and fundamental level. i'm not saying i understand, but i'm not skeptical either.

[Menita]

I will never, ever forget.

[Alex]

Thank you for this post.

This has been a hard weekend for me, only for the mundane reasons typical for IFers around holiday times. By IF standards I'm usually pretty darn perky but I'm feeling sad. Reading your post helped.

Dealing with IF has made me a better person and has introduced me to a wonderful, if ironic, sisterhood through (mostly) the internet -- none of us wants to be here and I, at least, am shocked and appalled that such a high percentage of the women struggling with IF are so, well, wonderful. But I will be grateful when through some route I have found my way to the other side, though I hope that like you I will never forget.

Thanks.

[Amy]

Funny...in the ironic way not the ha ha way...I just asked my SIL today (she has 1 son who is 20 and was never fortunate enough to have the technology at the reasonable (HA) cost we do today but had to endure years of trying on their own before getting pregnant) if it still stung when she learned of the pregnancy of others. She said yes...kinda not the answer I wanted to hear because I hoped their was hope for me to someday not cringe when I learned of someone else's pending parenthood.

IF has made its mark on me and its one that will never leave - and I think I'm naive to think it ever would. It does sting less with time and I don't necessarily think of it every day but it is always there....and I have the PIO scars on my ass to prove it.

[Kathy]

Great, wise words. I still look at my twin boys in awe. I think, like you, I thought that maybe in hindsight, the whole mess wouldn't seem so bad. I can be so naive.

I remember back now and I don't know how I found the strength. How did I carry on? How did I put on a happy face for most of the world when I felt like spitting at them? How did I keep from turning on the one person who was closest to me, my (mostly)sweet husband? Under what rocks did we have to dig to find the cash?

Now I know.

I am one strong woman. Incredibly lucky. And very strong.

Thanks for this insight, T. We are G&D, we are!

Kathy