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.
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.
Posted by: Sharon | 16 April 2006 at 08:43 AM
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.
Posted by: Boulder | 16 April 2006 at 10:07 AM
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.
Posted by: tess | 16 April 2006 at 10:21 AM
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
Posted by: Bea | 16 April 2006 at 10:42 AM
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.
Posted by: Jen-Mutt-AKA wolfette | 16 April 2006 at 11:59 AM
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.
Posted by: meg from the egg | 16 April 2006 at 01:07 PM
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.
Posted by: Sassy | 16 April 2006 at 02:27 PM
Thank you - for validating how I have felt for the last 18 years of my life!
Posted by: Isabel | 16 April 2006 at 02:52 PM
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.
Posted by: Bridgette | 16 April 2006 at 03:00 PM
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.
Posted by: Christine K | 16 April 2006 at 03:02 PM
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.
Posted by: Suzie-Q. | 16 April 2006 at 03:05 PM
BTW.. have you noticed on your poll today that more of us are willing to give up sex than our cell phones!!!
Posted by: Suzie-Q. | 16 April 2006 at 03:09 PM
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.
Posted by: Beth | 16 April 2006 at 03:13 PM
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
Posted by: Tertia | 16 April 2006 at 03:13 PM
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. :)
Posted by: Me | 16 April 2006 at 04:03 PM
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.
Posted by: Charmaine | 16 April 2006 at 05:37 PM
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.
Posted by: korin | 16 April 2006 at 07:21 PM
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.
Posted by: millie | 16 April 2006 at 07:26 PM
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.
Posted by: Samara | 16 April 2006 at 07:57 PM
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.
Posted by: Penny Farthing | 16 April 2006 at 09:24 PM
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.
Posted by: beth | 16 April 2006 at 09:29 PM
I will never, ever forget.
Posted by: Menita | 16 April 2006 at 09:38 PM
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.
Posted by: Alex | 16 April 2006 at 10:15 PM
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.
Posted by: Amy | 17 April 2006 at 12:09 AM
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
Posted by: Kathy | 17 April 2006 at 01:04 AM
Beautiful post.
Posted by: Michelle | 17 April 2006 at 01:17 AM
Thank you! I needed that right now.
Posted by: jenny | 17 April 2006 at 01:37 AM
Yes, infertility was/is pretty awful (and honestly, I never really admitted to myself just *how* awful until I read your beautifully written post), but I kind of feel like now I can handle almost anything life will throw at me - both the good and the bad.
Now coming through the other side via adoption, I wouldn't trade these battles scars for the world. They definitely made me who I am today.
Maybe some, or even most infertiles would disagree with me, but for me personally, I feel that I'm a much stronger, better person than I would have been without the struggle.
Posted by: Sue | 17 April 2006 at 03:52 AM
Thank you. Thank you for writing from your point of view, having made it to the other side. Folks who haven't been through it don't understand, and yes they think I'm crazy when I talk about how hard this is. It's more than "hard", please keep writing, writing about the hard times and the good times. Glad you found the other side.
Liz
Posted by: Liz | 17 April 2006 at 03:58 AM
We struggled for less than 3 years before we decided on adoption, yet that was a lifetime of 'trying'. I actually had a boss pull me aside and tell me to be 'happier when others announced their pregnancies, because I was making *them* feel badly!' I will never forgive her for that comment. People who aren't infertile, or have never tried to have children (possibly her case) cannot understand.
Now, though, when I look at my 3 year old daughter, I firmly believe we went through those three years of struggle simply to 'kill time' until she was conceived. SHE was meant to be my daughter.... not by biology, but in every other sense of the word. I no longer cringe when I hear of someone else's pregnancy. I was blessed beyond any measure they could design!!!
Tertia, I am so very anxious to purchase your book!!! Thank you for your writings....
Lisa
Posted by: Lisa | 17 April 2006 at 05:02 AM
thank you.
Posted by: Jill | 17 April 2006 at 05:21 AM
I just couldn't understand why people would go through so much with ART, until one day I read (on an IF blog) the statement that any parent would do whatever she had to do, for as long as she had to do it, to save her child's life. And ART was the same thing, just trying to give the child life in the first place.
All of a sudden it made sense to me in my heart and gut. Of course you do whatever you have to for your children.
Those of you who are still waiting, I hope your children come to you soon.
Posted by: Moxie | 17 April 2006 at 05:46 AM
I never went through assisted reproduction but I specialised in pregnancy loss. My first son died on April 11 and was born on April 14. Those dates are associated with Easter in most years. We cremated him on Easter Thursday.
I'm a different person than I would have been if I hadn't gone through stillbirth and then several early and late miscarriages. And then having my two living children diagnosed as autistic.
It's hard. Really really hard. The autism is far easier than losing children.
Posted by: anna v | 17 April 2006 at 12:04 PM
I also never want to forget what infertility is like. I want to feel that deep, raw wound at times, just to know that it DID happen and is STILL happening and will be with me for the rest of my life.
This isn't a morbid need to feel pain, it's not that at all. I'm proud of having survived it and I won't let anyone brush such a profound experience away with words like "Once your baby is here you'll forget it all". It was too important a part of my life to forget.
We are leaving this week on a life changing trip to meet our future adoptive child and that fills me with joy. It has nothing to do with the pain of infertility though. I've often compared it to the death of a loved one: just because someone died doesn't mean you can't ever love again, but you will never forget the pain of the loss.....
Posted by: Carmen | 17 April 2006 at 01:48 PM
You've hit the nail on the head. It doesn't just go away, even if it does eventually work. I know that I am a different person for having gone through IF and IVF. I don't always like the person it has made me (the anger, depression and second guessing our choices) but I think it has helped me respect the choices that others make.
BTW, the other day a woman (who is pg with her 3rd) on a non-IF board I frequent was asking how she should interact with her SIL who has been dealing with IF issues. Although her heart was in the right place, some of her suggestions were "no-nos" so I told her my thoughts and then pointed her to your "how to be good friends to an infertile" post and it seemed to open her eyes somewhat.
Posted by: Andy | 17 April 2006 at 04:20 PM
I'm hyperfertile, so it might seem strange that I spend as much time as I do on the infertility blogs. But having had a child with autism, I somehow identify with the pain involved.
And former-infertiles, like special needs parents, generally "get" the miracle of their child's existance, and have suffered out of their competitive parent streaks. I'm annoyed by parents who are obsessed with the general superiority their child (he's a genius! she's wise beyond her years AND prettier than your child!) and I don't often encounter that on the infertility blogs.
The need to have our own children physically, emotionally, and cognitively present in our lives is too big and profound to be explained away. I totally understand why infertile parents do what they do; anything that stands between you and your child a dragon to be slain at any cost.
Posted by: Ingrid | 17 April 2006 at 06:16 PM
I went through four years of infertility treatment before having my daughter using donor eggs. At this point, two and a half years after getting pregnant, my memories are softening at the edges a little bit. I still carry the ability to go from zero to b*tch in less than 60 seconds when I hear someone suggest that another person should just "relax" to get pregnant. And, I still haven't told my brother about my daughter's origins, because of his and his wife's insensitive comments about how I was just too old to have kids as I was going through that hell. Like I said, I'm getting over it, kind of.
Posted by: abogada | 17 April 2006 at 07:20 PM
Thank you, my dear, for keeping the flame burning for us still in the trenches.
Posted by: Pamplemousse | 17 April 2006 at 10:41 PM
I hate myself right now. I went to a gathering yesterday with 5 couples. One is getting engaged, one was newly dating, and one was married with a 3 year old and a new baby. The last was married, but I don't know for how long. I didn't really talk to the wife. She seemed a bit cold and thought maybe she was a little stuck up. We were 2 hours late because the kids were napping. I apologized, and warned the group that usually people decide not to have kid after we leave with 16 month old twins.
I was having a great time, the other mom was naturally gravitating towards me. We were talking amongst ourselves about all the stuff that used to send me over edge, running from any social situation, holiday gathering ect. I don't think we missed a subject, from pregnancy to birth, to formula and tantrums.
The "cold couple" and newly dating couple eventually left. The other mom and I still talking about all things mom. Then the mom tells me that the "cc" were on their 5th IVF, this next one with all the testing and such running up a bill of 30 grand.
I tell you my heart sank. FUCK. I'm an idiot. Loser. I am an insensitive bitch. That's how I felt. I really wish I would have known that. I'd bet 30 grand that "cc" went home and soaked their pillow with tears.
IF SUCKS. It was the worst 5 years of my life, and it still colors things. I might as well have been throwing daggers at this woman. It probably would have hurt less.
Posted by: satwins | 17 April 2006 at 11:03 PM
My husband and I are in the beginning stages of the adoption process and we are very excited. I am coming out of the fog of infertility and I am in a good place, most of the time. My SIL just had a baby- her second since we started trying. I came home from the hospital and sat on the couch and cried. Even though we have chosen a different path and we are excited about what the future holds, I continue to grieve.
I have Crohn's disease and have had multiple abdominal surgeries and I have to watch what I eat every day of my life. I'd take Crohn's disease over infertility any day of the week. Thank you, Tertia. Can't wait to read your book!
Posted by: AMY | 18 April 2006 at 12:25 AM
....crying as I write this.......Thank you once again for your insights and for putting what I feel into words. In the last two years I've done 9 IUI's and 2 IVF cycles with my own eggs and one IVF cycle with my partners eggs. On my last attempt with my partners eggs I got pregnant and I thought this nightmare had ended. I celebrated too soon.
I thought every time I didn't get pregnant my heart would surely break, but I had no idea a miscarriage would seemingly shatter it all but beyond repair. It has mended in the last few months, but I will NEVER forget my baby and this pain. It means so much to read your post and know that others understand this. It helps me to accept that I am no crazy in my grief.
My post name of "One of Two Mommies" was selected when I was pregnant and I posted a first, excited comment for the first time. Now I feel like I can't even give up the name because it links me to my unborn baby....even thought I'm not a Mommy. Only hoping to be one one day. Trying a frozen transfer in about 4 weeks and am terrified it won't work.
Thank you Tertia.
Posted by: One of Two Mommies | 18 April 2006 at 12:43 AM
Great post. You always say things so well. Thanks.
Posted by: Meg | 18 April 2006 at 02:47 AM
Thank you... for writing the words that I still couldn't find... even though I am (after much less effort than some) finally on the other side and have an amazing 3 month old. I don't know that the scars from infertility ever completely go away... but sometimes we get so excited at finally being a part of the "normal" world (i.e., all those people who kept getting pg while we were dealing with infertility) that it is easy to forget a little... thank you for the reminder.
Posted by: Melody | 18 April 2006 at 07:27 PM
Wow. Thank you. Thank you for the words that I have searched for, but which have always eluded me, to describe what is going on inside of me during this tough time in my life. I am so very grateful for your post.
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and those ppl have 2,3,4 kids of their own, yeah you can talk!
Posted by: Yolanda | 03 May 2007 at 03:06 PM
I well remember the "black hole" of infertility and the way it sucked all enjoyment out of so much of daily life. The frustration, helplessness, anger, financial struggles (I remember once commiserating with my husband when my period appeared after an IVF cycle that we could have put down new hardwood floors with the money we'd spent!). The damage it did to our marriage. We've made it through to the other side via adoption, so I now can only view the IVF years as what we did to keep busy until our kids came along. We were meant to parent the kids we've got and I wouldn't want it any other way! But I've never been through anything tougher than IVF, and will never forget the pain. Wish a blog like this had been around then - it was also very isolating.
So...my only advice: set IVF limits early and stick to them...and remember that you WILL get to the other side eventually. And please consider the blessing of adoption - it brought the light back into our lives! p.s. most hubbies are slower to consider/accept adoption, but put their new child into their arms and there's no stopping the love!!
Posted by: Janer | 16 November 2007 at 01:33 AM
Over the years, some dietary foods predominant in vegetables and fruit have been thought of as protective. In contrast, fatty foods have been thought as increasing the risk for Crohn's disease. The literature however has been inconsistent. As such, the controversy continues as the precise cause of Crohn’ s disease remains an enigma.
Posted by: crohns disease | 08 April 2008 at 02:04 AM
I just wanted to share with everyone a great book that I just finished reading that has been extremely comforting to me in my quest to conceive a child. The book is titled "Tiny Toes," and is written by Kelly Damron. The book is very is educational, entertaining and enlightening. It is a must read for anyone who is going through infertility issues.
Posted by: Becky | 01 September 2008 at 08:13 AM
I know you wrote this 3 years ago and it's speaking to me right now, been having a bad time since yesterday, although it made me cry more, it explained to me that what i'm feeling is normal. Yes it's hard and people just don't get it. But i'm determined to move on, with or without encouragement. The most important thing is to reach my goal! Thank you Tertia!
Posted by: ByGrace | 16 July 2009 at 12:02 PM